Gege rly said "I never felt a woman's touch and now I'm going to make it everyone's problem"

Dreams {Ellie HC}

The day started out like most. Alarm clock. Get up. Take a shower. Get dressed. Go down to the bakery, say hi to the staff, have breakfast, ask if any help was needed but nope, they had it under control. Take a few sweets for later. Tease dad, make a joke to mom about something or other, upstairs, work on homework. After finishing what needed to be done for the day, and the hours counted down to the right hour, tell the ‘rents she was going out, skateboard on down to the crib, make sure no one was looking while slipping into it and spending time with the crew. Maz was there now. It was the four of them, like it always should  have been.

Day after day. Some good days, like April Fools when she and Maz put worms in Babyface’s clothing drawer at the crib where he kept some spare sets. Valentine’s Day dates where it was just her and Babyface together, having a makeshift dinner and he presented her with some flowers that he picked out of someone’s garden on the way there. Shopping days with Maz. Jax finally came into his powers. He couldn’t die of ordinary means. He fell and impaled himself on a fence but he was able to climb off and was healed within a couple of hours. Completely healed. Happiness.

And there were bad days. Getting into fights among the crew over little things like treats being left out and getting ants all over the place. Accidentally freezing half of the living room when she blew out the candles on the birthday cupcake that Maz made for her. The day when Babyface did come up short on cash, due to no fault of his own, and he had to deal with the consequences and it was so hard to see him beat up like that. Bad days. Not horrible ones.

One rainy night. It was just the two of them at the crib. Jax and Maz were spending the night with the dads. Babyface’s room. Virginities were taken. It was sweet, somewhat short, but definitely special. Fumbly and awkward but there was some laughter after, because they were just too close for it to be entirely serious. There wasn’t any regret. There wasn’t any feeling of having rushed it. They’d do it again a couple of hours later. Less short that time. And then watch a movie and eating treats.

Graduation. There wasn’t actually a ceremony. It came to her in the mail. But did the Bjorgmanns throw a party? Hell yeah. Everyone was invited. Dale and Piper came back out, since things were settled in Peru by then. The crew, of course. Maddy, Bastien, Wulf brought Agnes, treats were brought out, Ellie got applause. Was she going to university? No. A gap year, she’d call it, while she made up her mind. But mostly, she knew she was going to keep working with Babyface. Nothing else was as appealing as being with her boyfriend.

Jax found someone. She was pretty cute. She didn’t necessarily fit into the crew as easy as the original four but she was welcome and she was trusted. Maz - she joined in sometimes with Babyface and Ellie for some things. Nobody wanted her to feel lonely. She was more than welcome to come and cuddle up in their bed. Ellie unofficially moved into the crib, but kept a part time job at the bakery so that she could have some income coming in and people wouldn’t question where she got money. Her parents - they were worried about her, obviously. They didn’t like what they thought that she was doing. But they didn’t want to drive a wedge in their family either, so they’d just keep it to light questions, and knew that she was lying.

Not everything was perfect. There were still arguments. There was still tension sometimes. It was life. But overall, things weren’t terrible. Until there was a night when a lot of alcohol had been drunk during a crew party, and Babyface and Ellie forgot the protection one night and there was a plus sign on the pregnancy test. Though stressed, it wasn’t Ellie’s initial reaction to want to get rid of it. She was an adult now, a grown woman. She sat down with Babyface and they talked through it. There was going to be another Beagle coming into the world - and then Babyface proposed that there should be two, and she should become one as well. A proposal. An acceptance.

It wasn’t going to be a big thing - until the Beagles found out about it. And then it turned into a big thing. No church, nothing fancy, definitely nothing expensive. A trailer park wedding. Ellie wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. She wore a simple white sundress, had Elsa and Maddy as her bridesmaids because one turn deserved another. Maz was the ‘Maiad of Honor’ though it was a title more that showed her best friend than having any real responsibilities. Her parents disapproved. Majorly. So she asked Dale to walk her down the aisle, which was more of a dirt road than anything. Watching Elsa have to walk with Bouncer was worth it alone. Pictures were taken by their friends because why hire a photographer when everyone was going to have their phone out anyway? She barely even showed in those pictures, but her happiness did as she kissed Babyface and said I do.

They got a trailer of their own, but they always had the crib. The area beneath was still sitting empty. It had been years and Babyface still didn’t know what to do with it. He liked it to still be a private thing. Somehow, the rest of the Beagles never found out. They didn’t do a honeymoon thing. They didn’t need to. They could love each other right in New Orleans, they didn’t have to go anywhere else to do it. Besides that, there was work to do. Always work to do.

Pop went the Ellie. And out came the newest Beagle boy - Blaise Beagle. And wouldn’t you guess it, the name fit. Little guy got his mother’s fire blowing powers. Another dragon to add to the bunch in NOLA. Definitely a handful. That’s when the Bjorgmann’s would start to come around to the way that Ellie was living, but only just. She stayed home with the kid, since Babyface was always deeper into Circe’s shit than she was. He’d keep bringing home the money and she would count it for him, on top of managing their own money. At least she was good at that. She could handle the books just fine.

Days went by. Up came the age of twenty-nine. Every time that Ellie looked in the mirror, she saw more and more of her mother. It - wasn’t nice. She loved her mom, yeah, but that fake happiness, that never-stop cheerfulness, that was something that she saw as a flaw. Their parenting styles were different. Their wife styles were different. Babyface would find her that night, crying in the bathroom, having a bit of an identity crisis, half of her hair cut off with kitchen scissors. The next morning, she put on a brave face, went to a salon and got her long red hair cut to her shoulders, something younger, something - less Anna like. But she’d never get rid of the fiery color. That was all her. That same day, she fell ill and found out she was pregnant again. A girl. Brianna Beagle.

Did Babyface ever mature? A bit. Enough. He never finished his high school, but that mattered very little. He still put on that tough guy persona a lot, especially when they weren’t in their trailer or in the crib. He backed it up well. But Ellie never fully stopped worrying when he went out to do whatever it was that he needed to do that particular day. She mothered him a bit. She couldn’t help it. Not with the lectures, no, but taking care of him. Making her own ice packs and making sure that his food was never cold when he got home.

Blaise and Brianna were a lot like their parents. Mischief. Ellie had her hands full with them. Especially when Uncle Jax and Aunt Maz came over and played with them, then things got intense. Usually she just gave in. She never wanted to make her kids feel confined in any way, not like Elsa had when she was a kid, or the way that she felt when her parents really began to disapprove of Babyface and realized that he wasn’t just a phase. Outright fantasy battles happened in the trailer with Blaise on Jax’s shoulders, blowing fire, being a menacing dragon, Babyface being a Lord Farquaad in this instance because of course the kids knew about Shrek. Ellie was the Fiona in distress, since her hair was the right color, tied with skipping rope onto a laz-e boy chair, while Maz and Brianna were Shrek and Donkey coming in to save her.

She loved this family. Oh fuck did she ever. Well into her thirties and not really showing any sign of slowing down. They were her energy. They were her fuel. Her husband, her kids. Her friends. Things weren’t always perfect, but day to day, she was mostly happy. The kids were happy. They tried to put them into school buuuuut it didn’t work out too well. There was too much Beagle in them. Ellie had to meet with the principal of an elementary school to even get the kids in, since they were rejected just by the name alone. Nope. No more Beagles. Not in their halls. There was a pretty big shouting match which ended up in middle fingers and burning paperwork and their kids were going to be homeschooled by her and Babyface - she could do the academic stuff, Babyface could do the real life stuff.

The dreaded teenager years. Blaise and Brianna never lacked friends. There were so many Beagles. Uncles, cousins galore. There were Chip’s kids. There were Maddie’s - Frankie came over once in a while too. Of course there was drama. ‘Mom, Blaise tried to set my hair on fire again!’ ‘Well if you didn’t use so much fucking hairspray, it wouldn’t have caught!’ ‘Mom, Brianna made Wiggins mow a dick onto our lawn’ ‘I did not, he chose to do that himself!’ But after dealing with the problems, Ellie would always relay them back to Babyface, and they would laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

It was a good life. Which was exactly what Oogie wanted her to have. Oh, she was there, lurking. This, though it felt like it was twenty years, this was one night. This was one dream. Like most ‘good guys’, Ellie’s biggest fear was losing the people that she loved. She didn’t have one big enemy the way that Maz did. She just had a secondhand account of loneliness and never wanted to feel that way, and had enough faith in her friends and family that the only way she would was if they died.

She created love so that she could take it away. Ellie, nearing her fourties, would go to bed with Babyface one last time. Snuggled up to him. Planning on working with Brianna on her calculus the next day, since she was struggling a bit. If she did well, then she’d take the kids to a skate park and show them a couple of moves. She wasn’t Tony Hawk, even old Tony Hawk, but she could still do a couple of ollies, and a few other tricks. And then she would wake up, a teenage girl, long messy hair, not a wrinkle in sight, all alone in her bedroom above the bakery which had long since been turned into a guest room for the grandkids.

She was dazed, at first. Not remembering where she was. Then took in the posters and signed pictures on her walls. The pictures that she printed off of her and Maz during their sleepovers and put in tacky frames with feathers and glitter all of them. She ran her fingers through her hair. It was long again. Her hands. The chipped green nail polish. And they were smooth. Hands showed age, and all that this showed was youth. It took her a couple of minutes of just sitting there, staring at her own hands, at her cherry print comfortable pajamas, to realize that the life that she had thought that she lived, the husband, the children - they were all just a dream. It hit her like a freight train. The loss. Raising the two Beagles, loving them with all of her heart, every moment, just to find out that they weren’t real and she had a very big hole in her heart for some time.

She wouldn’t keep it entirely to herself. She told Elsa. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Babyface about it because it was just too embarrassing. They only just said that they loved each other and meant it in a romantic way, not just a friendly way. They never got past just a bit of light groping. To tell him that she had this whole life with him in a dream - it was too much. Too cringe.

On top of the homeschooling that she did, and found that she was pretty proficient in learning things by herself, she didn’t need someone over her shoulder explaining every little thing to her, not when she could just look up how to do it if she had trouble, she was taking those mindfulness lessons that Koda had taught to Elsa, and that she in turn was now being taught. But a bit of that damage was done. There didn’t need to be a second nightmare. There didn’t even really need to be a first one, since life had been good in the dreamworld. She kept expecting to see the blue eyed teenagers come into her room once she got settled into bed or she’d accidentally put cranberries into her morning oatmeal, which she didn’t like but Brianna did. Maybe once things got a little more serious with Babyface she’d tell him how Oogie didn’t entirely let her go, but if he asked if there were any nightmares - she could honestly tell him no. Just good dreams.

I swear I ain’t in it for the money, but I can’t stop thinking about sugar daddy shoto. Maybe he sweeps a cute little college kid or barista of their feet, just something fun and casual. But this man starts falling harder, needing a way to lock them down to him. Money isn’t quite cutting it anymore, so he decides fucking a baby into her would do the trick. Shoto would push her down into the mattress, large frame twisting her into a sweet mating press. This way they could stay together forever and Shoto would have absolutely no problem providing for his sweet family <3

but fr tho I feel like Shouto is NOT the type for kids.

Mans will tolerate them when they babble or wave at him, but he very actively Does Not Want them.

Always uses condoms, and even though he’ll threaten not to, it’s never a legit thought in his mind to cum inside. Shouto doesn’t want to be a dad.

-----

You’ll be sittin on a park bench, fading sunset dark and pretty in front of you yet all you can do is cry. There’s not really any people around so it’s not like you’re bothering anyone - you hadn’t wanted to cry in your shabby apartment (half the cause of your worries) just in case you received a noise complaint.

“Are you alright?”

A somber, smooth voice is heard. You’re swiping at your tears quickly as you look up, trying to laugh off your state of distress. “Oh, haha, yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” It’s hard to smile with your puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

The man in front of you frowns, hands in his coat pockets, scarf draped around his neck. “You don’t look fine. Mind if I sit?”

He’s already claiming the spot next to you on the bench before you can say a word, turning to you with a passive expression. “Why are you crying?”

And that’s all it takes to have you breaking down all over again, tears streaming down your face. Just one person offering to listen to the heavy burden you have to bear.

‘’M sor-sorry...” You sob, wiping at your eyes with frigid fingers, successful in doing nothing more but smearing tears around your face.

“Here.” The man’s taking off his scarf, gloved hands offering it you.

“I ca-can’t use your sc-scarf sir.” But he’s insistent, pressing it into your hands up by your face.

“I’ll just get another one. Keep it, you’re in need of it more than I am.”

The kindness makes another fresh bout of tears roll down your cheeks, but this time you're able to dab them away with soft fabric as you sniffle.

It takes a moment for you to calm yourself. When you do, you can finally engage in conversation with the man.

You tell him about your job hours getting cut, how you’ve been turned down or ignored by every single place you’ve applied at for a second job. How you’re barely affording to wash your clothes - you have to hang them or drape them across things in your apartment because you don’t have the money to pay for a dryer cycle.

And to top it all off, you’re still short on rent, despite how you scrimped and saved and even forced yourself not to buy groceries this week - you’ve gone hungry for the past three days.

“You haven’t eaten?”

You glance up at the man and his incredulous expression, shaking your head. “I’ve been trying to save money, I thought I could afford my rent if-”

“What kind of food do you like?” The man is pulling out his phone, swiping and tapping immediately. 

“Thank you, but I’m not-” looking for charity is what you want to say. Plus, you shouldn’t accept favors from strange men.

But the handsome man is waving you silent. “I’m cold, plus I’d like to grab a bite to eat before I head home. I don’t like eating alone though, you’d honestly be doing me a favor.”

You take a moment to process. Is he telling the truth? He sounds like an honest guy.

“Seems like the only place open around here is “Joe’s 24 hour Diner”.... You mind burgers?”

So that's how you end up in a booth opposite the man (”Shouto” he had told you as you both headed to the diner), munching away at warm food. It tastes so good, you hardly have time to worry about the man watching you as he eats.

You’d been shocked at his looks the moment you’d seen him in the light of the diner. Pretty two-toned hair, different colored eyes, perfect skin, expensive clothes. Why was he even talking to you? It’s obvious the two of you led very different lives.

“How does everything taste?”

“Delicious.” Is your response, and Shouto seems pleased, nodding before taking another bite of his meal.

Maybe it’s stupid... but you feel weirdly safe with this man. He doesn’t seem to bear any ill-intent towards you, nor has he made any comments about your body or let his hands or eyes stray. He seems like a gentleman.

Conversation flows easily between the two of you, even sharing a few chuckles at times. He’s some fancy rich businessman, you learn, and you share about your own life, laughing at the comparisons. Shouto can’t fathom growing up in a house with less than five bedrooms and a personal servant.

He asks for your number, and you’re hesitant in giving it - he surely can’t be interested in you? But he seems so sincere, it’s hard to say no.

When the two of you part ways, Shouto gives you a wave, “Hope to see you again soon, and under better circumstances.”

“You too! And sorry for being such a mess and stopping your walk-”

Shouto shrugs, cheeks beginning to pink from the cold air as you two stand outside the diner. “You needed help. I like to assist.”

-----

The next morning you wake to find an atrociously large sum deposited in your Venmo account by none other than a Shouto Todoroki.

Immediately, you’re calling him. “It’s too much, we just met. How can you give away that much money to some low-life?”

You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’re obviously struggling. I was wondering what your hours are this week, perhaps we could talk about this over dinner? Or lunch, if that fits better with your schedule. I’m flexible.”

It’s a few days later, days spent questioning yourself, questioning his intentions, before you see him again, both of you deciding to meet for lunch to further discuss... whatever had just happened.

“Was what I gave you adequate to cover your rent?” Are the first words out of Shouto’s mouth after you greet each other.

“Yeah, more than enough-” You squirm. “But I need to ask.... why?”

“Why?”

“Why me.” 

“Oh.” Shouto’s expression clears. “That’s easy. I told you a few days ago - I like to assist. I’m quite lonely, and it feels nice to use my money on someone other than myself. I think providing for someone brings me... I wouldn’t quite say joy, but... contentment.”

You contemplate his answer for a moment. 

“Well... you saved me with my rent, I don’t really know how to thank you.”

The man leans forward. “Well.... I know it might be a bit sudden, but how would you feel accepting me as a.... benefactor of sorts?”

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Is your immediate, blurted response. You want to slap yourself for speaking before you have the chance to think about your words, but luckily Shouto just lets out a light laugh.

“If you’d like to call it that. I’m willing to provide financial assistance for you, in exchange for companionship, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your face heats up as you drop your eyes, fidgeting nervously in your seat. “I don’t feel comfortable with a... a sexual relationshi-”

“That’s perfectly acceptable.” Shouto cuts you off before you can continue. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate a contract of that nature. I’m thinking more along the lines of accompanying me at meals, sharing experiences with me, providing company and friendship to a lonely man. If it seems that we’d like to progress further than that after we get to know each other, well, that will be addressed then. For now-” Shouto meets your eye, dipping his head a smidgeon so he can look at you directly. “All I ask for is a simple, non-intimate bond between two people.”

This is crazy.

And yet you accept.

The situation may be wild, and completely absurd, but you’d be a fool not to say yes.

Shouto is charming and handsome, respectful, courteous - you could go on and on about his positive qualities. He just seems like a sad, lonesome man swallowed by work and responsibilities, too stressed and busy to put the effort into making friends the conventional way. 

-----

Months pass by.

You’re eating at every meal, sated and never going hungry. You’re able to move into a new place, one that doesn’t smell like cigarettes and sits right next to a railroad.

Clothes aren’t a worry anymore, you have your own washer and dryer in your new apartment (Shouto offered to buy you a house, or a penthouse at the least, but you couldn’t justify it to yourself). You’re able to afford new things, and pretty dresses, shoes that are comfortable and fashionable and that fit.

You no longer have to wear clothes down until they have holes in them. You’re able to go to the doctor’s when you feel sick, able to pay for health insurance.

Life is good.

Shouto is a personable man, serious, but he can be rather funny and even crude at times.

The doubt and thoughts of “Why is he doing this for me?” and “I’m not good enough for this.” plague you, but Shouto always seems to catch on, reassuring you that you’re exactly what he needs - a friend.

And you’re more than happy to be that.

You think sometimes, that even if he wasn’t paying you, you’d still like to be friends with Shouto Todoroki.

Until he starts acting weird.

“You should just stay at my place. I have more than enough room,, it’d be easier for both our schedules. We’d get to see each other more often.”

“Uhm...” You don’t really know what to say. You like your freedom, and having your own place where you can walk around in your (expensive) underwear without being bothered.

“I think it’d be nice, don’t you? We could have breakfast every morning, you wouldn’t have to worry about traveling to and fro, we could spend more time together. We don’t see each other nearly enough.”

He’s pushing, insistent. How are you supposed to tell him no? He’s paying for your entire life. Plus, it wouldn’t be that bad to actually live with him. Shouto’s an amicable man.

So you move in.

“I bought you a few things, they’re on your bed.” 

Shouto’s striding into the kitchen where you’re making coffee, buttoning up his shirt as he comes closer. You’ve found that the man likes to sleep in nothing but boxers, shrieking and flushing an embarrassing shade the first time he’d come to wake you up with a sweet “welcome” breakfast in bed.

It’s taken a while to adjust, but you finally feel that you’re fully settled in.

“Oh, you really don’t ha-”

“I wanted to. I went through your closet - your clothes are nice, but your underwear seemed to be lacking.” He’s so matter-of-fact.

All you can do is stare at the back of his head.

“Could you pass me a spoon please?”

-----

Shouto had splurged on expensive, fancy lingerie. 

At least eight different sets were laid out on your bed. It was overwhelming. It also felt.... a bit intrusive? They were all in your size, in a complementary color for your skin tone. 

Weird.

Not as weird as the onset of Shouto’s casual touches.

You’d be reading, or drinking tea and watching cars race by on the street so far below, and Shouto would come up behind you, caress your sides before intertwining his fingers with yours on one hand. He did it as if it was a normal thing, but it felt anything but normal.

Or you’d be on the couch together, and Shouto would shuffle closer until his large body was pressed to yours, almost curled around you. The faux-cuddling was a bit more off putting. How do you tell him no?

The touches became more and more intimate, Shouto’s gifts more and more frequent until you weren’t even spending a penny, the man taking care of everything.

The arrangement was beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Shouto’s bi-colored eyes seemed to always be on you, tracing the shape of your body, watching you move, or breath, or sit. It was distracting, and you felt bad for feeling this way towards the man who’d pulled you out of poverty, but it was so unnerving.

He seemed to notice.

“You’ve been so stressed these past few days. Is something wrong?” Shouto’s rubbing a hand into your shoulder, hovering over you at the dinner table.

“No?” Is all you can manage, wiping your hands on your napkin as you finish your food.

Shouto frowns. With a sigh, his hand drops from your shoulder and the man leaves your side, heads toward the kitchen.

You clear your plate from the table, following after him so you can wash it and put it in the dishwasher before you head off to get ready for bed. 

But Shouto is rummaging in a cupboard, pulling down two wine glasses to accompany the bottle of wine that’s standing proud on the island.  It’s your favorite, a sweet wine that Shouto knows you like, always brings it out when he decides to drink whisky or bourbon after dinner.

He pops the cork and pours you a glass while you finish with your dishes, handing you the glass when you turn away from the sink, pressing it into your hands. “Let’s relax a little bit, it’ll be good for both of us.”

You’re fine with that, knowing that a little wine won’t hurt you, especially when it’s of such fine quality. You’d never dreamed that you’d be able to taste such richness in your lifetime, spend frivolous amounts of money on wine and fine eateries. Yet here you are.

Shouto pours himself a glass, barely a sip filling the bottom. The man raises it to his lips and takes a swig, grimacing a bit in his flat, unexpressive way. You giggle a little.

“Too sweet?’

The man nods, setting the glass back down. “I’m not entirely sure how you can stand to stomach it. But if it makes you happy-” He shrugs, before pulling on of the bar-stools out from under the island so he can sit facing you, long legs stretching out before him.

You look at him, and he looks at you, and then you take another sip of wine to avoid the awkwardness.

“You’re distancing yourself from me.”

The accusation is quiet, Shouto’s eyes focused on your fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.

He’s always been straightforward with his words. “Is there a reason you keep drawing away?”

The wine disappears from your glass, sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You fill your glass again before speaking, struggling to find the right words without upsetting your... benefactor.

“Well, Shouto... I don’t really know how to...” You trail off, hoping Shouto will say something, change the subject, say it’s alright and move on to something else.

But the man stays silent, eyes appraising you.

Taking a deep breath, and another gulp of sweetness, you try again.

“Sometimes the closeness... like, physical closeness? Makes me, well, uncomfortable.”

Hopefully, that would satisfy his curiosity for now. That wasn’t the only reason you’d been avoiding Shouto seeming distant, but you didn’t think sharing the others would result in anything good.

Said man accepted your response, dropping his eyes to his lap as he mulled it over. More wine was consumed, glass re-filled. You felt nervous.

“You’re saying that my touch isn’t something you’d prefer.”

Biting your lip, you soften at his confused expression, at the hint of sadness swimming behind his eyes. “Kind of. I don’t mind you Shouto, you’re really kind, and you’re good company, and a wonderful friend. I just don’t think the.... the intimacy is for me.”

Shouto raises his head, stares at you with those pretty eyes, lips parted as he comes to terms with your words. 

“It sounds like you don’t trust me. I would never hurt you, you know this.”

You scramble to assure him. “I do! I do trust you, and I know you wouldn’t.” (at least you hoped) “But I guess I just... Coming into this agreement I wasn’t ready for that type of... thing. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

The man rises, shakes his head as he steps closer to you. “Don’t worry, I remember our first conversation about that aspect. I see that for you, that type of relationship would only begin after you really cared for the other person, trusted and wanted to see them happy, am I correct?”

“Oh, Shouto-” You rush. “No, I care for you, and I trust you, and of course I want to see you happy. I think it’s just, y’know, my last relationship like that went really bad, and it sucked. I don’t want to go through that again.”

Shouto nods, understanding. “I see. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me then.”

A smile crosses your face, and you feel relived that he accepted your rejection with grace and understanding instead of violence or anger. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

The mood of the room shifted, from tense and uncomfortable, to easy and light, and you poured another glass of wine, laughing a little at how worried you were about the conversation with Shouto, only for it all to turn out fine.

“I’m going to go drink some of the liquor that’s kept in my room. I could mix a few drinks for you to try, you might like how sweet they are. I know hard alcohol isn’t quite your thing.”

You beam a smile, nodding your head eagerly. Before, you’d feel apprehensive about going into his room with him to drink alcohol. But with the conversation the two of you just had, you knew - things would be fine.

-----

The room was spinning and you felt giddy and light. You were definitely tipsy.

“You can lay down on my bed, you’re getting wobbly on your feet.” Shouto had offered, and you’d gladly accepted, flopping down onto his comfy bedspread with a laugh at how the motion made butterflies rise in your tummy.

Shouto leaned against his dresser, swirling whiskey in his glass as he watched you, a half-smile across his face. You smiled back, before closing your eyes, a little bit tired as you realized that you might be a bit more than just tipsy.

Shouto had mixed quite a few drinks for you, and you’d drank each one eagerly, impressed with how little alcohol you could taste in each one. You don’t remember how many you had, but it didn’t really matter.

The next thing you know, hands are on your waist, scooting you further up the bed so your legs no longer hang off the edge. Cracking open an eye, you’re met with the visage of red-and-white, eyes soft and warm as they regard you, Shouto’s face tinged a bit pink from the few drinks he had consumed. The man had never been too good at holding his alcohol.

When those hands started to slip beneath your shirt, you wiggled like a little worm, not really comprehending the situation. Maybe it was a dream.

Your shirt was discarded, then your pants. It felt much more comfortable now, and you mumbled a “thanks” to the man helping you settle for bed. He was so nice, Shouto took such good care of you. You still kind of couldn’t believe the turn your life had taken with him, the good luck pushed into your path.

Someone was kissing you.

With a grunt of surprise, you kissed them back, meeting their feverish pace and trying to keep up, soft lips puckering and pushing against your own with intent. Kissing felt good. You liked kissing.

Then a hand was cupping your face, stroking tenderly over your cheek before it began sliding down, down your neck, into the valley between your breasts, trailing over your bra. It felt funny.

Pushing back for air, you gasped when the hand on your chest started squeezing at you, eyes flying open with the startling, sudden sensation.

Shouto was hovering over you, lips puffy, panting as he stared at you with lusty eyes, an uncharacteristic look on his face. This... this wasn’t supposed to be like this. You knew. Hadn’t the two of you just talked about something... important? Was it important?

You didn’t feel panic until a hand cupped your sex, feeling your skin through your panties.

This wasn’t right.

Alarm bells were ringing, dull and far away, but you didn’t think that Shouto should be touching you in such a way. you should be going to bed.

“Mm, Sho, can you stop?” But your words felt funny on your tongue, and Shouto didn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t hear you.

His hair tickled your chin as the man bent to mouth at your tits, pulling the cups of your bra underneath them so he could feel your hot skin, let his saliva drag slick and wet against your chest. 

Your hands instinctively rooted themselves in his hair as you gasped again, not expecting such a move, tugging lightly at his head to pull him up. Shouto just groaned, teething gently at your breasts and not moving an inch. His hips were grinding against the bed though, as he stood between your spread legs.

Before you knew it, your panties were gone, bra clumsily unclasped and discarded, and you were completely bare. Shouto was undressing before you, struggling with the buttons on his shirt before giving up, easily ripping the fabric of his body with one tug, grumbling.

You didn’t feel so tipsy anymore.

“Shouto, what’re we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, we need to stop-”

“Stay down.” Was his firm command, a hand splayed across your naked chest and pushing you back into the mattress as you tried to sit up. It made you breathless, the growl in his voice, the dominance emanating from the man. You stayed still.

“This’s gonna make us a stronger couple.” The man slurred, eyes dark and hands wandering, effortlessly keeping you pinned against the bed as he ground his hips forward against the edge. You were getting scared.

“Wait-”

You fell silent as one hand pushed down his pants, his underwear going with them, pink cock bobbing free. He was so pretty down there, and it made sense, all of him was pretty, but you suddenly realized the weight of the situation, what was happening.

“Shouto, no, oh my god. We gotta stop right now, we’re drunk, we’re-we’re-”

“Don’t care. Not gonna let you hide away from me this time.” Shouto shook his head, taking his cock in one hand and giving it a long, slow pump, flushed tip weeping precum and wetting his hand.

“No, no, this is wrong. I don’t want this, I could get pregnant!” You cried, beginning to panic for real, pushing against the one strong hand anchoring you to the bed.

Shouto just chuckled, letting go of his cock to crowd against you, getting up in your face to press a wet finger to your lips, the salty taste of his precum threatening to slip into your mouth unless you kept it shut. “Shhh, shh. If you stay nice and still, if you do what I say, I’ll use a condom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“You’re gonna listen to me, you always do.” The man nodded to himself, once again dragging his cock against the bed between your legs, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “Or else I’ll fuck you raw.” The finger was pulled from your lips, only to be wagged teasingly in your face. 

You couldn’t believe how he was acting.

“Be nice.”

Shouto tapped your nose with a neatly manicured finger, before groaning as he heaved himself upright, red cock bobbing against his stomach, desperate for attention. The man gave you a look, as if to say “don’t move” before he took his hands off you, heading for his dresser.

Once you saw him pulling out a strip of condoms, you were on your feet, stumbling toward the door.

Although panic had sobered you somewhat, you were still struggling with the effects of the alcohol, so your reaction time was maddeningly slow. Slow enough that you weren’t able to truly fight against Shouto when he grabbed you from behind toned arms wrapping around your middle and heaving you into the air, only to throw you back on his bed.

You were almost sick on the bedspread, world spinning and stomach protesting, but you were able to calm yourself.

But then Shouto was on you, flipping you onto your back, a soft hand pressing against your throat threateningly. 

“You want to have a baby? Want me to cum in you so you’ll get all fat with kids? Hm?” He was so intense, almost choking you, straddling your waist and keeping you pinned. It was too much

You were able to manage a tearful, desperate “No!” despite the hand around your throat, and Shouto backed off, releasing the pressure to instead stroke his hand against the sides of your neck.

“Stop acting like this, it’s the next logical step for us. You said you cared for me, wanna make me happy. This’ll make me happy. I won’t be like the last guy.”

His cock was pressed against your stomach, and you could feel it twitching. Shouto clambered off of you, letting go of your neck so he could grab the condoms he’d tossed on the bed before snatching you up.

“Do what I say and I use these.” He waved them in your face before tearing one off, beginning to open it. 

You stayed still, gazing at him blearily, limbs feeling fuzzy, mind feeling the same.

The condom was rolled onto Shouto’s cock, the man spitting into his palm and giving the latex a few rubs to make it slick before reaching for you.

He dragged you to the edge of the bed - the perfect height for him to fuck you - and you didn’t fight, terrified of his threat. You couldn’t stand the thought of a baby.

(You didn’t know, but neither could he)

“Wanted to do this since I met you.” Shouto mumbled, pushing your panties to the side with a few fingers so he could guide his tip to your hole. “Want you so bad.”

You didn’t know what to think of this side of Shouto. This unreserved, uncareful, slurring mess of a man that loomed before you, gaze dark and wild, limbs everywhere as he groped and squeezed and appreciate the shape of your body.

But he must’ve gotten impatient, because then he was pushing inside.

It hurt, stinging pain rippling up your back and you keened, causing Shouto to pause. One of his hands darted down to wrap around your calf, hauling it up on the bed so he could lean forward and press it to you chest, sinking his cock a few inches deeper.

“You’re gonna take it.” He hissed before messily kissing you, pressed so close together that it was hard to breathe. “I’ll make it feel good after you do.”

alternative universe buddie fics recs :)

note: the links weren't working the first time i wrote the post but i edited and they're okay now!! if it still isn't working for you is probably because you're trying to open from a reblog from before i edit it, so try open directly from the original post on my profile.

Blind Date by @sassypopstar [complete | teen and up audiences | 3.8k words]

Buck feels a little ridiculous dressed in a jacket and a shirt. But Maddie had insisted on him dressing up for the occasion and even Chimney had quipped that it’s the right thing to do. So Buck, who never went on a blind date before in his life, listened to his big sister and her boyfriend because apparently that’s who he is now. Or the one where Buck goes on a blind date with someone called Eddie.

Buckley's Bouquets by awashleyno [complete | teen and up audiences | 23.4k words]

A world where Buck owns a flower shop and manages to develop a huge, massive, ridiculous crush on a handsome firefighter that comes in for a visit one day. Or, 5 times Eddie gives flowers to other people and the 1 time he gives them to Buck.

Call It What You Will - Fate? Destiny? (A Tsunami) by @abow123456 [complete | mature | 20k words]

Evan Buckley's day of relaxation is cut short when a tsunami hits the beach he was relaxing at. He has to fight to keep himself and a lost little boy safe from the water, as well as anyone else he finds. After, he meets the boys father and family, and it causes a snowball effect of good things for him, for once.

Capuccino with extra, extra sugar by buckbng [complete | teen and up audiences | 2.7k words]

Buck is the cute barista and Eddie is the grinch that hates coffee. Until, he doesn't. Because if Buck says he looks like the kind of person that would love a cappuccino, who's Eddie to disagree with him? OR Eddie really doesn't like coffee but pretends he does just so he has an excuse to see the cute barista at the coffee shop.

Confirmation Bias by strifechaos [complete | mature | 31k words]

After the fallout with his ex-wife, Eddie believed he could only trust his family with his son. He hadn’t imagined falling for his son’s sweet-hearted nanny, Buck. With his own family so distant, Buck never considered that he’d be lucky enough to find a home for himself, let alone people he could count on. Not until he meets the Diaz boys. AU: Buck was never a firefighter, and becomes Christopher's sitter when Shannon's job takes her away from Eddie and Chris for the summer. Eddie tries to not fall for his son's nanny, he's not very successful.

dream of some epiphany by extasiswings [complete | mature | 7.3k words]

Evan Buckley is lost. It’s happenstance that he wanders into the navy recruiting center—he’s been in San Diego for a few weeks, bartending late nights and weekends, living in a house with three other guys not because he needs the roommates but because he doesn’t want to be alone, and the military is…respectable. Stable. So Buck thinks maybe and opens the door. Buck leaves ten minutes later with a set of printed instructions for sending his first letter, assured that he can drop it off whenever he’s ready, and a name. Staff Sergeant Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz.

Frequent Flyer by red_to_black [complete | mature | 13.4k words]

In his entire time being a firefighter, Eddie has never met anyone as accident-prone as Evan Buckley. And Buck - well, he's quickly becoming the 118's best customer. (Or - the one where Eddie is a firefighter, Buck isn't, and Eddie finds himself rescuing Buck from increasingly sticky situations. Sometimes literally.)

Gave me no messages, gave me no signs... by @reallysmartladymariecurie [complete | teen and up audiences | 7.4k words]

"Buck is beyond nervous, and he’s really trying to convince himself that the familiarity of the situation is not some sort of bad omen. Just because there are parallels of the start of his relationship with Eddie to that of his relationship with Abby doesn’t mean that this new adventure is destined to end in the same miserable fashion. He hopes it won’t, has to believe it won’t. Because even with Abby, he hadn’t fallen this hard for her before their first official date. With Eddie, everything is already intensified by a thousand." Or, Buck covers a shift for a firefighter at the 136 and it leads to a budding relationship through text messages.

Gotta Find My Corner (Of the Sky) by doctornineandthreequarters [complete | general audiences | 31.3k words]

It was the last day of 2016 and two lost souls found themselves in a quiet dive bar, as the loud noises of the city celebrating New Year’s Eve buzzed around them. Most people chose loud, flashy bars with DJs and entrance fees and promises of champagne for New Year’s Eve. But both occupants of the dive bar preferred the quiet. They both didn’t need the added chaos when everything around them already felt chaotic. --- Or, Buck and Eddie meet on New Year's Eve, 2016, a meeting that sets of a series of events that changes the trajectory of both of their lives.

I Didn't Know I Was Lonely 'Till I Saw Your Face by @hmslusitania [complete | general audiences | 10.4k words]

After the ladder truck and the blood clot and the tsunami, Bobby makes Buck go to therapy before he does something stupid (like sue the city). Buck's not totally comfortable being alone with a therapist, but fortunately he makes a friend and ally who's willing to help him out - Eddie Diaz from the 136 who's just been caught in an illegal fight club. OR Total strangers Buck and Eddie go to couple's therapy together to get out of the therapy requirements their captains have placed on them.

i want your midnights by allyasavedtheday [complete | teen and up audiences | 36.3k words]

In which Eddie decides to rent out his spare room to help with mortgage repayments right around the time Buck decides to move out of Abby's place after some not so gentle prodding from Maddie. It's a coincidence. Or serendipity. Or maybe just really good timing.

i wanna be know (by you) by @starlightbuck [complete | general audiences | 12.5k words]

“I didn’t mean to do it.” Hen glances down at Eddie’s phone then back up at him in disbelief.

“How do you ‘not mean’ to download a bunch of dating apps but still have them on your phone?”

Or  In which Eddie delves into the intimidating world of online dating.

if i got locked away (would you still love me the same?) by @firefighterhan [complete | general audiences | 3.7k words]

Buck gets accidentally thrown in jail after meddling in a fight outside of a grocery store. There, he meets an unexpected guest, famous music artist Eddie Diaz, who is being suspiciously quiet about how he ended up here in the first place.

if only in my dreams by @buttercupbuck [complete | general audiences | 5.4k words]

Years before Eddie joins the 118, Buck meets him at an airport bar on Christmas day.

in a week by @buttercupbuck [complete | explicit | 78.9k]

in which Eddie joins the U.S. Forest Service and in the meadows of California, finds the things he thought he lost and the things he thought he'd never have.

It Started With A Bang And A Hostage Situation by JayJay__884 [complete | general audiences | 6.6k words]

Buck goes to the store one late night to buy food because of Maddie's pregnancy cravings. Whilst at the store, Buck accidentally gets caught in the middle of a robbery and gets knocked out. After waking up in the backroom, Buck finds himself as a hostage with a handsome and caring stranger.

Leading with the Left by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels [complete | explicit | 84.7k]

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico." And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?" In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

Lift me up by @captain--sif [complete | teen and up audiences | 5.5k words]

Buck gets stuck in his apartment building's broken elevator with his good-looking neighbor from the sixth floor.

Love and Bullets Both Shatter Hearts (But Only One Can Put You Back Together) by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels [complete | explicit | 11.2k words]

Agent [Redacted] Diaz is the best at what he does. Usually. But lately there's this real pain in the ass* who's been ruining his missions: Code Name "Buck."

*stupidly handsome and annoyingly talented rival spy

Mr. Buckley's After Hours Detention by aresaphrodites [complete | mature | 11.4k words]

It’s not like Eddie Diaz planned on this. Really, there was no scenario in his mind where he would ever be bringing his son’s teacher a freaking goody basket to class; a homemade goody basket, no less. Then again, Christopher has never had a teacher quite like Evan Buckley.

MukbangsWithBuck by @reallysmartladymariecurie [complete | teen and up audiences | 19.3k words]

After growing tired of eating alone in his loft, Buck decides to start a YouTube channel where he records himself eating dinner and telling stories about crazy things his team has encountered on calls. He eventually gains a substantial fanbase, and he is led to the channel of another LA firefighter who uploads informational videos and also casual vlogs with his ten-year-old son. It isn't long before the two start a friendship through messages, both of them secretly hoping it will turn into something more. Or, Eddie and Buck are both firefighters/YouTubers and they end up falling in love.

Objects in the Mirror by SevenSoulmates [complete | explicit | 139.1k words]

The voice had always been around, Eddie remembers it, like a stream of consciousness that babbled incoherently to the point where Eddie just tuned it out.  But then the voice started speaking directly to him. Conversing like he was a whole person standing right in front of him. Like he could see what was happening around Eddie. Eddie shook his head. No one was talking to him, and Eddie most certainly was not talking back. He wouldn’t talk to the boy in his head ever again. There was no boy in his head. 

Passive Aggressive Flirting by @starlingbite [complete | general audiences | 4.5k words]

Buck and Eddie have never met. They both work at the 118 but just on different shifts. That's all about to change when Buck finds a sticky note message, signed E.

String of hearts... by @reallysmartladymariecurie [complete | teen and up audiences | 11.1k words]

“Now. Eddie is this incredible presence. He’s funny and smoking hot, and he has a son who sounds wonderful. And he’s serious and vulnerable at times. But so enjoyable to be around, every single second that he’s there. And how can I put myself out there when the expectation is so high? When the thing I might lose is so beautiful?”

In which Buck owns a plant shop in LA, and Eddie becomes his new favorite customer. Pining ensues.

check out my post of buddie fics with dad!buck

Paperwork // Hyunjin

🍄 | genre: smut (18+ only) ☁️ | pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 5.1k 🌸 | includes: switch-dom!hyunjin, switch-sub!reader, oral (both receiving), PIV riding, pet names, begging, kinda goofy at first, cum swallowing, “sir”, a lil bit more but not too much

☀️ | synopsis: You’ve been working at this office for five painstakingly long years, but despite your best efforts, you never get a raise or promotion. When the CEO retires, his son takes his place, and seeing as you’re around the same age as his son, this could be your chance to get ahead. 

🌊 | If you want to skip to the smut, look for the [🔥] because there’s a lot of set up for this one, but I know some people just want to get off lol.

He has finally stepped down. After 60 long, long years, the CEO of the company you work at has retired, as if he didn’t have enough money to retire 30 years ago.

The amount of times you’ve been told off by that man is practically uncountable. It felt like at one point you were going into his office every week to ask for any sort of promotion, raise, or even kudos, but every time, he turned up his nose and shooed you away like some kind of stray cat. You’ve worked too long and too hard to not be given proper treatment. Despite everything, you stay at the company, knowing no where else in the city will pay nearly as well.

The company now belongs to his oldest son, Hyunjin. He’s never worked in this office, yet the old man still thought it would be appropriate for him to run the entire company (supervised by a few HRs, of course). Hyunjin looked like a complete fool trying to command the floors of burnt out office workers just trying to pay next month’s rent and put food on their tables, not that he would know what it’s like to work for anything. The first job he’s ever had and it’s the CEO of a multi-million dollar enterprise, who would have thought?

This is your chance. He’s right around your age, give or take a few months, and he seems marginally more friendly than his father. If you were ever going to climb the corporate ladder to finally move out of your studio apartment, it was right now.

Wearing the tightest, shortest skirt you own with the perfect button up to match, you step into his office after scheduling a meeting with his temporary secretary. When you sit down in the chair across from him, he just sighs and waits for you to speak your piece so he can get back to his grueling job of signing documents that he never reads.

“Good morning, sir. I was just coming up here to compliment you on how well you’ve been running the place since your father stepped down. It seems like company morale is at an all time high, and I can’t imagine thanking anyone other than you.”

“So you want a promotion, right?” He scoffs, grabbing a pen to click repeatedly as you struggle coming up with a response. You weren’t expecting him to be so quick on his feet considering he would stutter over every word talking at meetings. “I assume you didn’t come in here just to kiss my ass.”

“Alright, you caught me, but can I at least make my case?” He looks up from the pen to wordlessly incite you to keep talking. “I’ve been working here since I got out of college. This is really my dream, and it would mean the world to me if I could get farther, work harder, and, if you’re feeling so inclined, get a bit of a paycheck raise.”

“Well, you caught me on the right day, miss...”

“L/n. But you can call me Y/n if you want.”

“Y/n.” Hyunjin puts the pen down and leans on his desk, elbows propping himself up. “If you’re up for the task, I am looking for a new secretary.”

“As I’ve heard.” The rumor has been going around that his father left his secretary for Hyunjin, but all they’ve been doing if fighting, so they had to bring in a temporary one, the one you spoke with, to hold him off until Hyunjin finds a secretary he likes. “Not to be rude, but wouldn’t you rather have a male secretary like your father had?”

“No, no. I know what I want.” He runs his hand through his black hair, slipping out the ponytail that was holding the long strands out of his face. “I want you to be my secretary. No one else.”

He drags his fingers through a stack of papers on his desk, stopping at a five page contract booklet. He slides you the papers and the pen he was just fiddling with.

“If you really want this promotion, you’ll sign on that dotted line right now.”

🖊⌚️🗄🗞🪙📞

Working for Hyunjin wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Once he warms up to you, he’s actually really sweet. If you mess up his coffee or misscedule a meeting, he doesn’t fire you immediately, but rather just assures you that it’s okay and you’ll do better next time, a total 180 from what you saw that first time in his office. After a few weeks, you’re a dream to work with, and the job is a lot less stressful than you had assumed.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was beyond stressed. Meeting after meeting, signature after signature, decision after decision: it was all too much. The only time he smiled was when you brought him coffee in the morning, or when he’d hear your voice through the phone. He always looked forward to seeing you, even if it was only for a brief minute. You were really the only thing keeping his sanity together.

“Here’s your coffee, sir.” You put the cup on his desk as he reads a random document. He thanks you, as usual, and takes a quick sip before immediately regretting his decision when he felt his tongue begin to burn. You quick go to his mini-fridge and pass him a water bottle, standing back as he gulps half of it down to relieve at least some of the pain. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for it to get that hot!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Don’t worry about it.” He sits back in his chair and slowly turns to you, meeting your eyes in a light-hearted stare. He laughs before finally speaking again. “You’re holding this company together, you know that?”

You laugh right with him, rolling your eyes at his statement. “Oh please, I just forward emails all day.”

“No, I mean it.” He holds his hands out and grabs yours, interlocking your hands in a soft grip. You could easily move back, but you don’t want to. “Without you, I’d be losing my mind.”

“Aw, you’re too kind.” You stand in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say next. The silence isn’t awkward by any means, but you can’t help but wonder why you’re holding the hands of your boss. “You’re doing very well, though. You have some big shoes to fill, and I feel like you’re doing the best you can.”

“Of course you’d say that. You work for me.” Hyunjin lets go of your hands and leans back in his chair again, crossing one of his legs over the other and lazily putting his hands behind his head, lounging back. “Y/n, can I say something crazy?”

“Say whatever’s on your mind, sir. I’m all ears.”

“Ugh, drop the formalities. Just call me Hyunjin, okay?” You nod, letting him continue with his speech. “I really appreciate you, Y/n, and it’s no secret that my family is loaded, so I want to ask if you’d come live with me downtown.”

“W-what?” Your eyes practically bulge out of your head. Living with your boss sounds absolutely insane, but any chance to get out of your shitty apartment is promising. This is the opportunity of a life time, no doubt, but is it worth taking? “Sir, I...”

“For fuck’s sake, call me Hyunjin.” You’ve never heard him curse before. “Listen, I live in a penthouse on the top story of a high-security luxury apartment complex. I’m all alone in a five bedroom apartment with a full view of the town. Going home alone every night is wearing on me, and it would mean a lot to have someone else there, even just to talk to.”

“I need time to think.” You look anywhere but his eyes as he leans forward and looks up at you from his chair.

���Take your time and think it over. I’ll give you until the end of the day.” Hyunjin turns back to his desk and looks at the paper he was reading before he burnt his tongue. “Go back to your office for now, but right after your shift, I want you here.”

“Yes, s-... okay, Hyunjin.”

🖊⌚️🗄🗞🪙📞

Everyone is gone except you, finalizing one last email before heading up to Hyunjin’s office. An office with no workers is eerie to say the least, and as you take the elevator up to Hyunjin’s office, you can’t help but notice how nervous you feel inside.

This is the right decision. As difficult as it might be, you’re going to say no to his offer. It’s extremely unprofessional to have any sort of out-of-work relationship with your boss. Thinking back to the outfit you wore when you took the promotion, it’s no wonder you assume you’ve made Hyunjin think you want this. Your apartment may be shitty, but at least it’s yours. Living with Hyunjin would cause too many problems in your life, and the last thing you need right now is problems.

He was waiting for you. With his head in his hands as you walk through the door, he darts his attention to you as you sit across from him. While it was certainly a familiar sight by now, he was just glad you didn’t run away from him after such an intense morning.

“Hyunjin, I just want to-”

“Stop.” He holds his hand up, pausing you mid-sentence. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I’m just stressed, and I’m not thinking clearly. I shouldn’t have offered you to live with me. That’s not who I am, nor is that something I should have sprung on you like that.” He reverts back to his former position with his head in his hands, staring down at his desk. “I just... I’m so lonely.”

You feel for him, you really do. He’s been thrown into this situation obviously not by choice, and he knows absolutely no one he’s working with other than you. With a stressful job and no one to turn to, it was clear why he was acting so rashly.

You pull his hands away from his head, holding them in yours like you did this morning. Rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand, you give him a gentle smile as he meets your eyes. The bags under his eyes are present, and his tiredness is visible. He looks so worn out to you. You really do feel bad.

“I’m not asking you to move in, but would you like to come back to my penthouse? Just for tonight?” He returns a smile to you, lowering his gaze blankly. “We can have a few drinks and talk. I just need someone with me right now.”

“Only if you’re paying for the taxi.” You two laugh together, appreciating each other’s presence.

“I’ll have my chauffeur drive us back to my place, and afterwards, he can drive you home.”

🖊⌚️🗄🗞🪙📞

Saying that Hyunjin’s apartment was massive would be an understatement. You felt like you walked into a penthouse from a dystopian future with shiny metal counter tops and black leather furniture. It didn’t look lived in, but to be fair, there was only one man living there. You felt cold even though it was room-temperature. 

“Follow me, doll.” Hyunjin takes your hand and leads you to the living room to sit on his L-shaped couch. If his pet name didn’t throw you off, you very well would have just walked there without his assistance, but you didn’t know how to react after being called ‘doll’ by your boss. “Want anything to drink? Wine? Vodka?”

“I’ll take wine, thank you.”

“Red or white?”

“Red.”

Hyunjin pours you both a glass and meets you back on the couch, lounging next to you, letting the soft silence fall over the room as you each take a sip of the expensive booze. As you drink a bit more, Hyunjin’s eyes are glued to you, and you start to break a sweat as the temperature in the room seems to rise. He’s just... staring at you. You feel uneasy, but this alcohol should help calm your nerves, right?

Hyunjin easily notices that you’re starting to slip into deeper thought, so he carefully puts his hand on your knee to bring you back into the moment. His gesture isn’t charged in anyway, but you still jolt at his touch. You dart your eyes towards his while looking like a deer in headlights. 

“Are you alright?” Hyunjin slides his hand up and down your leg only from your knee to mid-thigh. With his other hand, he puts his glass of wine on the coffee table in front of you so he can totally focus on your needs. Even though you hesitantly nod, he isn’t convinced in the slightest. “You want to know why I invited you here?”

“Sure, Hyunjin. Why did you invite me here?” The more he rambles on, the less you have to talk, so you gladly let him fill the silence. 

“Well, to put it simply, I’m interested in you.” You tilt your head in confusion. Was this a confession? “You’re a very intriguing person to me. When you walked into my office for the first time, you suffocated me with your aura. You truly do command a room, you know? That’s probably why you’ve gotten so far in your career.” His chuckle is awkward, and you don’t respond in any way to help his nerves. “You’re a woman that knows what she wants, and I admire that, especially since I don’t even know what I want.”

“How don’t you know what you want?” Your confidence was slowly coming back, although you weren’t sure if it was from the alcohol or your want to pick at Hyunjin’s brain. “You have everything anyone could ever want! Look at where you live!” You gesture to the room around you. The modern art-deco custom paintings, the abstract sculptures, the fake plants that looked too fake to even be considered plant-like. It was a dream, especially for those that lived in the city. “You have the perfect house and the job position people can only dream of.”

“I don’t want this, Y/n.” He stands from the couch, walking over to the wall of glass that separates the living room from the balcony. “This house means nothing. This job position means nothing.” He can’t face you, fearful that you’ll see how weak he is. “I want someone. I want you.”

Silence. You stare down at your legs, unable to even process what Hyunjin just said. Your thumbs rub against each other, fiddling so you can focus on anything else. Hyunjin sighs loudly and turns around, walking back over so he can tower over you. His shadow consumes you, shrouding your figure in slight darkness. A hand slips under your chin, pulling your face up to see him. His eyes sparkle when he looks at you as if he’s enamored by your existence. 

“What do I have to do?” Hyunjin ponders, leaning in closer to you. The scent of his cologne clogs your senses, and all you can think about is Hwang Hyunjin. “What do I have to do to have you?”

Your hand goes to his chest, grabbing his tie. You pull him into you, crashing your lips against his in a heated kiss. Hyunjin puts all of his emotion into this kiss, promising himself that he’ll show his love through his actions. 

Pulling away, you both catch your breath and enjoy the brief silence. For once, it isn’t awkward; the silence is welcomed. 

“Hyunjin,” you twirl his tie between your fingers, “if you want me, then prove it.” 

[🔥]

Hyunjin takes your hand in his, pulling you off the couch. He drags you up to his bedroom without saying a word, assuming you know what’s about to happen. His sheets are all black, neatly made without a stain in sight. Hyunjin sits on the edge of the bed, tapping on his lap to invite you to take a seat. 

You straddle him, feeling heated the second your thighs come in contact with his. It feels unreal, but you want this now more than ever. You didn’t drink even an entire glass of wine, so you can’t blame this decision on any ounce of alcohol. 

“Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” He wraps his long arms around your waist, pulling you into him so your body is pressed against his. “I need to hear you say you want this.”

“Yes, Hyunjin. I’m sure I want this.” You shoot him a smile that never fails to make his heart melt, and he can’t help but kiss you again, his lips perfectly fitting against yours. When you open your mouth to allow his tongue to slip in, he feels like he has reached nirvana. Hyunjin was been wanting this for so god damn long; he could bust in his pants just thinking about it. 

His mouth moves from your lips to your jawline, not leaving any hickeys because he knows you have work tomorrow. His kisses along your jaw and neck make you moan quietly, and your hands slip behind his head into his hair. You curl your fingers into his hair, pulling it ever so slightly. He grunts against your neck, sucking harder than before, accidentally leaving a red mark. 

He pulls off of your throat, breathing heavily, looking into your half-lidded eyes. Your hands rest on the back of his neck, holding him close to you. Hyunjin smiles lightly and pecks your cheek, making you both giggle from his cute gesture. 

“I know I told you not to call me sir, but... maybe just for tonight, you can call me that.” Oh, he’s like that? You kiss him for a moment before pushing him back, his body falling against the sheets. Your body hovers over his, and you roam your hands over his chest and abs, feeling him from over his shirt.

“Alright, sir.” You smile innocently, leaning down, kissing his neck to test his dominance. He doesn’t fuss at this. He accepts your kisses, throwing his head back to give you better access to kiss his neck. Your hands roam all over his body, paying special attention to his chest, or more specifically, his nipples. He groans quietly, biting his lips as your fingers rolls over his nipples. “Oh, you like this?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Sit up. Let me take your shirt off.” He laughs at your commands as he raises his body from the bed and unbuttons the top of his shirt before you step in and unbutton the rest. The slow reveal of his torso his haunting, causing your eyes to dart every which way across his body. He really looks like a Greek god. “This is what you’ve been hiding from me?” 

“Oh please, I’ve been wanting to fuck you since I first laid eyes on you, doll.” There it was again. That damn pet name. He really was going to be the death of you, so you might as well enjoy this. “I’ve had dreams of bending you over my desk and fucking you during work, but that wouldn’t be very appropriate, would it?” 

You gulp out of nervousness, unsure of where to go from here. You were in control for the moment, but now that Hyunjin was letting his emotions out, you keep getting flustered, wishing he would take the reigns over this situation. 

“Aw, is my little doll getting shy?” He brushes his hand across your hot cheek, making you stutter out nonsense. “You’re so cute, baby. I could flip you over and ruin you right now, but we should take our time, right?” 

You nod, tracing your hands on his chest again. Your thumb and pointer finger grip his nipples and twist, causing him to arch his back and fall against the bed once again. He’s putty in your hands again, so you up the ante by pressing your heat against his painfully large bulge in his tight work pants, teasing him just enough to make him weak. The sounds he’s making can only be described as sinful, and you love every minute of it.

You dive your head down to his chest, sucking hickeys into his defined pecs. Your tongue around his nipples makes him keen from pleasure, his hands petting your back up and down. When you lean up to look at all the marks you’ve made, he’s desperately trying to catch his breath. 

“I was supposed to be showing you how much I like you, not the other way around!” He giggles through deep breaths, running his hands down the sides of your body. “Lay back, baby. Let me take care of you, alright?”

You shrug in agreement, dramatically throwing your body back on the mattress for Hyunjin to pin you down under his lean figure. His gaze eats you alive, skimming over your skin like he was about to devour you. 

“You’re absolutely stunning, baby.” He kisses you on the lips, short and sweet, before unbuttoning your dress shirt and revealing your bra, feeling your tits over the fabric. His hands perfectly cup your tits, moving your bra down to play with your hardened nipples. You arch your back into his touch, relaxing and letting him worship your chest. He’s a master with his hands, making you moan and whine just enough for him to get even harder under his tight pants. “Can I take your bra off?”

“Of course, sir. Take it all off for me, alright?” You wink up at him, stirring a fire in his heart. He wants to take you, all of you, inciting him to rapidly strip you of your shirt and bra, tossing them to the side. His lips attach to one of your nipples while his hand goes to the other, playing with the bud between his fingers. His other hand snakes down your body and unbuttons your pants, sneaking down to play with your cunt over your panties. His middle finger pushes your panties into your pussy, saturating them with your wetness. “Please finger me, Hyunjin.”

“Oh, needy already?” He leans up from your chest, sitting between your spread legs as he unbuttons his own pants and pulls them down enough to see his bulge under his tight boxers. He looked so big, bigger than you’ve ever taken. Your cunt becomes drentched in a second of you imagining his cock going inside you. “Staring isn’t polite, you know?”

“S-sorry, sir.” He pulls your pants down your legs, leaving your panties to be the only thing covering you. His hands hug your hips, pulling you right up to him. You feel his bulge against your cunt, making you bite your lip.

One of Hyunjin’s big hands comes down to your cunt, a finger hooking around the bottom of your panties to move them to the side, allowing him to check out your sopping heat. His fingers feather through your folds, circling your needy hole just to tease you. He smiles as you whine and buck your hips up, physically begging him to fuck you dumb.

“My baby’s pussy looks so pretty. I can’t possibly fuck her before I get a taste.” You watch Hyunjin as he scoots down the bed and leans down to be eye-level with your cunt. He licks his lips before diving in, sucking on your clit and running his tongue through your pussy. One arm hooks around your leg while his other comes up to play with your pussy, his fingers teasing your hole before sliding in just enough to make you whine for more. “You’re so sweet, princess.”

“T-Thank you, sir.” You throw your head back when he bends his fingers inside you, curling into your g-spot. Hyunjin hums as you moan loudly, hinting to Hyunjin that you’re close. “C-cum, sir. Need to cum.”

“Aw, my baby’s ready to cum?” Hyunjin teases, going right back to sucking on your clit and mercilessly fingering your tight hole with two fingers. His tongue flicking over your clit is making you so close, your legs shaking as he continues to assault your cunt. “Cum on my fingers, babe.”

Your legs violently shake as you reach your orgasm, all your nerves on edge as waves of pleasure drown your brain. You moan Hyunjin’s name over and over, holding his hair in an iron grip. As you come down, his mouth slowly detaches from your pussy, fully lapping up all your juices.

“Open your mouth.” With your eyes still closed, you open your mouth wide open and let your tongue out, letting Hyunjin do whatever he wants to your mouth. His wet fingers dip into your mouth, pressing against your tongue to make you taste your cunt. You suck lightly on his fingers, tasting yourself before he slips his hand out of your mouth, separating his spit-coated fingers to admire your hard work. “Good girl.”

Your eyes goes back down, staring at the outline of his cock in his boxers. He notices your stare, pulling his waistband down to reveal his long, thick cock, leaking with precum, ready to be stuffed inside you. “W-wanna feel you inside me~”

“Aw, but baby, I’ve fucked you dumb just from my fingers. You think you can handle my cock?” He presses the tip of his cock against your hole, pushing it in just enough to make you whine loudly. He smiles, seeing how fucked out you are so easily. He leans down to your ear, holding your hips in his hands. “Do you really want it?”

His voice is so deep and quiet that it makes you shiver, biting your lips before you can even speak. You breath for a moment to collect yourself. “Yes, sir. I want it.”

“Alright, baby.” Hyunjin gives you a peck on your lips before laying next to you, putting his hands behind his head. You look over at him puzzled, still collecting your breath. “Ride me.”

Hyunjin takes a condom out of his nightstand while you whine and breath more, trying to bring back any feeling to your legs. You regain your strength as he rolls the comdom onto his thick shaft.

You huff and sit up, wobbling before getting balanced on the soft bed. You finally pull off your panties before straddling him. Hyunjin throws his head back as you start to jerk his cock, feeling him twitch in your palm. With your free hand, you pull his pants down more to let you comfortably straddle his hips. As you lower yourself into him, you both groan loudly, you from the stretch and him from the tightness.

Hyunjin’s hands hold tightly onto your waist as you fully lower onto him, halting your movements to allow your cunt to adjust to his size. He bites his lip and stares at your face, admiring your beauty despite your messy hair and sweaty forehead. You slowly raise your hips, gripping Hyunjin’s cock with your cunt as you lower back down.

“You’re so tight, baby- fuck.” Hyunjin’s groans are loud as hell, echoing through the bedroom as you ride him, establishing a slow pace. You feel so full, his tip reaching deep inside you, and you love it. The stretch doesn’t bother you anymore, speeding up slightly. He watches your tits bounce on your chest, teasing him with their perky nipples and forming hickeys.

“Is sir close?” You feel him switch inside you at your question, his eyes squeezing shut as he nods and whines. His grip on your waist looses before his hands fall next to his head. You lean down and pin his wrists to the bed with your hands. Having your tits right in his face makes it even harder to keep his cool.

Suddenly, Hyunjin’s hips buck into you, fucking up into your tight cunt while you force yourself to stay still so he can let out his energy... and your legs were getting tired. He hits your spot with every thrust, desperately fucking you so he can release into the condom. You feel him inside you, his cum ballooning the tip of the condom, making you moan as he whines, saying your name like a mantra. He looks so hot under you, you can’t help but lean down and kiss his pretty, plump lips while he sits inside you.

“I thought I could last longer.” Hyunjin wipes the sweat from his brow as he pulls out of you, pulling off the condom, tying it, and tossing it towards his trash can. “You really know how to break me.”

He doesn’t realize that you’re still on top of him, moving down the bed to take his cock into your mouth. He winces when your hot tongue hits the tip of his cock. You lick up his shaft before taking him into your mouth, testing your gag reflex as you take him down your throat, your nose hitting his pelvis. His hands find home in your hair, pulling tightly as you bob your head on his member.

He’s totally speechless, his brain empty as you suck his cock like a pro. Your tongue feels like heaven on Earth, quickly making him fully hard again and bringing him close to another orgasm. He’s never been over stimulated like this before, whining like a cat in heat as he watches his cock disappear down your throat. You stare up at him, keeping eye contact even if he doesn’t look at you.

He twitches in your mouth, his cock spawning against your tongue as you increase the pace. He bites his lip harsh enough to draw blood as he cums again, your head raising so only the tip is in your mouth while one hand jerks his cock, milking him dry. His vision is fuzzy, mind even foggier. He can’t believe you just did that without a word.

You swallow his cum, wiping the drool off of your chin as you hop up and lay next to him, nuzzling into his chest. He puts an arm around you while you two cuddle in silence.

“You’re really good at that, Y/n.” He huffs, smiling as he looks down at you who’s drifting off to sleep. “Are you gonna sleep over?”

“I was hoping I could. And who knows? Maybe we can fuck in the morning before going to work.”

“Fuck, work.” Hyunjin sighs loudly before groaning from the reminder of all of his stress. “This won’t change our relationship ship at the office, will it?”

“Not publicly, no, but if you ever need to releive some stress during the day, just invite me up to your office and I’d be happy to help you, sir.” You both laugh, finally at ease in each other’s arms. As you drift to sleep, you can’t help but be excited for the proceeding weeks at your work.

This is exactly the raise you needed.

You Dance With Tears In Your Eyes

Summary: a college AU set up in the late 80s/early 90s with football star and quarterback Derek Morgan and his secret boyfriend Hotch-- it's not a happy story but I don't think I really have to warn you guys about that anymore

Also, a little based on a story my grandmother told me about my great uncle and his partner. Never met my great uncle but everyone says I'm a lot like him, I think they just mean gay but don't know how to say it

Warnings: homophobia, violence, racism *I mean it when I say homophobia*

Pairing: Derek Morgan/Aaron Hotchner

@yourlocalheartbreaker

The title is from Frank Ocean's song Self Control

Now and then you miss it, sounds make you cry Some nights you dance with tears in your eyes I came to visit, 'cause you see me like a UFO That's like never, 'cause I made you use your self-control And you made me lose my self-control, my self-control

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

Living shouldn’t be reduced down to what it is, the bare bones of things that don’t even make Derek Morgan who he is. He lives by them anyways, stupid rules. Social norms, Aaron always clarifies because even when those silly rules drown them Aaron needs to be concise. Social norms dictate every inch of life and for once Derek wishes he were the type of person who could be given that inch and take a mile. They’re the reason he can’t hold his boyfriend’s hand in public. Why he can’t kiss Aaron on New Years’ and why he is reduced down to loving his roommate. Why, at this rate, he’ll never marry or adopt children, or why he could lose any career he goes into because some nosy asshole finds out his partner isn’t a woman. And, yes, he knows there are anti-discriminatory laws but he’s a black gay man. The world is stacked against him.

It makes him so angry. He’s blinded by the irrational of it all, why nothing can just be simple for them. Aaron tries to comfort him but Derek’s anger scares him, he doesn’t understand it. Aaron has long lost the ability to decipher the complexity of human emotions. Still flinches at loud noises like he’s expecting each bump to be accompanied by the pain that laced his childhood and has to ask, around every turn, if Derek’s angry with him. He can’t tell. Everything looks like anger. With Derek, it frequently is. They cope in very different ways, Aaron chooses nothing. Shutting down all his emotions until he cracks and that’s worse. It’s worse than Derek’s anger. That doesn’t mean Derek doesn’t hate the way he quakes with fury. If not because it feels childish to be blinded by emotions then because it scares Aaron.

There are a million other things, at twenty there always is. It’s his philosophy class with all this bullshit reading he doesn’t understand. He has to ask Aaron for help and Aaron has to ask him for help with things too but it makes Derek feel stupid. It’s philosophy, it can’t be that hard. That’s the same way Aaron feels about calculus. There’s maintaining rent and going grocery shopping and football (games, practice, gym, and training).

College had been a learning curve. Getting up at four in the morning to go to the gym for football had been the hardest thing in the world without his mother flicking his bedroom lights on and off or Desiréecoming in to smack him in the face with a pillow. There’s no one in the entire world in charge of getting him out of his bed other than him and, in his freshman year, while he had thought sleeping on that impossibly hard mattress would leave much to be desired, and it did, he found himself glued to his every morning. Not wanting to leave the safety of its flimsy comfort.

Sharing an apartment worked wonders, having a workaholic boyfriend was really the best trick. An unexpected answer to his problems but, also, a very cute one. He managed to add one person to the list of people that cared about where he was, that made sure he got up in time to make it to the gym and practice, and asked if he had a bad day or rub at his sore muscles.

Derek rolls over in bed, not as surprised as he should be to find the other half empty. “Aaron?” He still searches, runs his hand over the sheets as if he doesn’t know that if Aaron were in the bed he’d be right there. Hogging the bed and the blankets, pressed up against Derek’s back snoring like there’s no tomorrow. “Aaron?” Derek sits up and squints, grimaces at the light trailing in from the open door.

Aaron’s hunched over the beginnings of an essay, pen ink smeared across his left palm and steadily chugging along. He can write a full essay in the span of a night, five hours for about 3,000 words but if it’s a short synopsis sort of thing then about an hour. Despite this astonishing gift, Aaron still makes himself write all his essays weeks in advance and spends days upon days proofreading and combing through them for the tiniest mistakes. He’s a straight-A student so he’s doing something right but Derek gets mostly As too with far less hastily. Aaron is just extra.

Derek steps up to the desk, doesn’t make a sound as he leans up against the side of the chair. He wraps an around Aaron’s shoulders, leans down to kiss his head. “It’s two,” Derek informs him, “come to bed. Please?” Derek’s exhausted. He feels the regret of being pulled from his warm bed. Each second feels like twenty minutes, the world sluggish and too cold. He leans closer to Aaron, wrapping himself around him. “You always smell so good,” Derek whispers. He presses his face into Aaron’s hair, catching the mix of scents.

“Bakery,” Aaron grunts. His answer as simple and concise as he always is but even more so now that he’s tired. Aaron had worked an on-campus job for the entirety of their freshman year but after he got a scholarship that would roll over each year after that (so long as he kept a certain GPA) he started at a bakery down the street from their apartment. Derek had always liked the way Aaron smelled, gently masculine in a way only Aaron could ever be, and it had mixed with the scents of softly, perfectly made baked goods he works around all day. Cookies and cakes. He’s picked up a few tricks, Aaron can make moist cakes and perfectly round cookies but his bread… It’s the best food Derek has ever eaten.

The first time Aaron made bread Derek got down on one knee and confessed “Aaron Hotchner if I could marry you I’d take you to the damn chapel right now”. To which he was lovingly pushed and told to “shut up” but fresh-baked bread (even if Aaron had taken a single bite and concluded he hadn’t ratioed the sugar right) is heavenly. He’s gotten much better since and it’s really hot when he’s standing there in one of his dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up taking his stress out on the dough.

And he can’t tell anyone. Can’t boast about his hot ass boyfriend or the bread he makes from scratch.

Derek crouches down by the chair, knows he’s winning when Aaron breaks from his work just enough to glance at him out of the corner of his eye. “Can’t this wait just a little bit?” he asks. “I want to sleep with my boyfriend and he’s out here writing an essay that isn’t due tomorrow and likely isn’t due for the next month.” Derek reaches up, strokes a strand of hair back behind Aaron’s ear. His fingers graze an open wound and Aaron flinches away, the pain unexpected.

The bare bones of Aaron Hotchner are the along the same in principle to Dereks-- all things that he cannot change. Even as he stands as tall as Derek, their bodies are not the same. Derek is lean from years of football, his arms stretch his shirts. He looks like an athlete, has the benefit of the doubt whenever he’s around men. His teammates walk naked in front of him, no one for even a second thinks anything of it. No one suspects him of the atrocities he commits within his apartment.

Aaron doesn’t have any of that. His hair is a little too long, hangs down in his face when he’s studying or reading. Nothing about him is hulk-ish, he’s delicate with his movements and while it had been something that Derek was immediately drawn to it also draws other’s attention. Bad attention.

The same boys that play around with Derek, snapping towels at him while he walks, terrorize Aaron.

Derek wishes there was something he could do because if this were anyone else- if Aaron were a girl- he could. It wouldn’t be dangerous, not the sort of thing that would cost him his football scholarship or get him stabbed and left to bleed out in an alley or beat within an inch of his life. He would have to out himself to protect Aaron, to stand in front of his teammates that coach keeps calling his family and tell them to keep their fucking hands off his boyfriend. No. No, because something like that would be death. It would be worse than what’s already happening. And Aaron won’t allow it.

All Derek can do now is await the next attack, leave Aaron someplace to come home to. Give him a place to be, without burden, without hesitation. It’s not enough. They’ll kill him. Derek knows they will and it’ll be fun for them, only a matter of time.

“Come to bed with me,” Derek asks one more time. He doesn’t want to sound entirely needy but he really doesn’t want to go to bed without Aaron. The bed is lonely.

With a sigh, Aaron nods and Derek stands up, moves out of the way so Aaron can throw pens in his textbooks to mark his place. He steps away, from the desks, yawning as he makes lazy lurches forward towards their bedroom. “Turn the damn--” Derek rolls his eyes and reaches over and turns off Aaron’s desk lamp.

He passes Aaron in the doorway, places his hand on his hip, and reminds him of their objective. “Bed,” he mumbles and Aaron nods, jerking back to life as he steps further into the bedroom.

Derek lays down on the bed, crawls over to his side, and gets comfortable while he watches Aaron lazily strip down to his underwear. He gets caught in his head again for a moment, standing there just blankly staring at the dresser. Trying to figure out if he should put on pajamas or not. Derek calls his name and opens his arms. “Come here, “ he says and Aaron smiles. Sheepishly he comes, blushing as he crawls into the bed and where Derek instructs him. Humming, pleased, when Derek brings the blankets up over them. His eyes are already closed, head tucked under Derek’s chin when Derek wraps his arms around him. Pulls him close, tight.

He’d read in a book about deep pressure, its effect on the parasympathetic nervous system. He’d studied Development Psychology for some time, thought about all the ways in which it checked every box of his interests. He thinks he might want to be a teacher. That’s where he learned about the importance of the bond between guardian and child. Where he learned a hug sometimes really is a fantastic answer to the most startling problems.

It’s also the fastest way to get Aaron to sleep.

“Tighter,” Aaron whispers. He can’t quite feel Derek’s bones pushing into him, the hammer of his heart still too strong. He groans, choking up a laugh when Derek does just that. Holds him tight, makes him ache with the proximity, his inability to move.

Derek doesn’t mind, he’s got an armful of bakery boy. Couldn’t be more content with anything else.

0000000000000000

All things considered, Derek didn’t actually face that much scrutiny when he told his mother about the stupid twisting and turning feeling in his stomach when Martel Harris put his hand on Derek’s back. Leaned in too close and Derek could smell the cologne he wore and feel his proximity like lightning across his skin. He’d thought it was just nerves but at the end of a football match Martel lifted him up, threw him up in the air, and God that had felt better than flying. Lit him up inside like he was something, someone.

Desiréecried and Sarah wouldn’t speak to him for a week, opposite reactions because of the same fear. Their mother always said the two of them were two halves of the same coin-- too alike to get along and too different to ever get away. They came around, their mother’s gentle hand always the voice of reason. Three stubborn as all hell kids, too much like their father. That’s what she tells the three of them, tears swelling in her eyes as she proclaims that none of it matters. Orders Desiréeto stop crying tells Sarah to get over herself. She loved and married a black man despite the death threats that followed them everywhere they went. Despite the people that called it blasphemous. Called it sin. As if love could be such a thing.

Her mother told her not to come home, not to call. She wouldn’t do that to her son, she knows it won’t change a thing. There’s something about love that makes you blind to the small pains. She never looked back twice, never reached out to her parents. She chose love and Derek will too.

But that doesn’t mean the fear goes away.

It doesn’t actually change a damn thing.

Standing in the tiny bathroom attached to Derek’s friend’s bedroom Aaron leans over the sink, letting Derek rub

shampoo through his beer-drenched hair. “I just don’t understand why they have it out for you,” Derek mumbles, his voice has deepened, his frustration laced confusion evident. They’re in a rather suggestive position, Derek’s body keeping Aaron bent over the sink-- ass to groin. Aaron shoots him a look out of the corner, a pretty clear “look at us right now and take a guess at why”. Derek ignores the look, he’s rather good at ignoring Aaron’s sharp looks. He shakes his head, grumbling some more to himself and gently working the shampoo out of Aaron’s hair. He leans closer, Aaron groaning as the sink bites into his stomach, and smells his hair. Derek groans, unsatisfied with what he finds. “Smells like strawberries with a slight undertone of beer.”

Sounds about as close to a win as they’re getting. “That’s as good as it’s going to get,” Aaron mumbles, grateful when Derek sits back up. While Aaron’s come to terms with the particular hand he’s drawn in the terms of college social lives Derek isn’t as quick to accept. He feels hopeless, a feeling he thought he’d escaped upon leaving Chicago and everything Carl Buford. Aaron can’t stand to see that look, the one he’s grown so used to seeing after events like this.

He pulls a towel down off the rack, starts trying to dry his hair. This isn’t the reason he keeps his hair short but it’s certainly a helpful addition to keep in mind. “Don’t overthink it, it’s not your fault.” Aaron could go blue in the face trying to keep Derek from coming up with a mile-long list of all the reasons why that’s simply not true. The truth is, it’s really not Derek’s fault. No one even knows about them. Their relationship isn’t the reason why Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is poured his cup of cheap, smells like piss, beer over Aaron’s head.

Not that what happened downstairs can just be so beautifully summed up as just that. Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is had grabbed Aaron as he was walking in, doing as Derek instructed by coming in the screened-in door at the side of the house. “Who’s dick did you come to suck?” and Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is cupped Aaron’s cheek. Dug his thumb into the wound he created and smiled, grinned happily at the sight of Aaron trying so hard to getaway. Hunter’s grip relaxed and as soon as it did Aaron was blinking the beer out of his eyes. “Get the fuck away from me,” Hunter shoved him, hard. “Faggot.” Aaron hit his hip on the counter but said nothing, he’ll leave the bruise for Derek to find another night.

“I should say something to that pig,” Derek’s distracting himself with putting everything back in the bathroom the way it was before they came in. Straightening out the rug and fixing the other towels. “Let me catch him trying something--”

Aaron can’t take it, all of Derek’s pointless anger, his stupid guilt. He’s just had beer poured down his back. He can’t even accept Derek’s sweatshirt to replace his smelly shirt, can’t walk out of here wearing his boyfriend’s sweatshirt without getting shanked. The beer smells awful but he’s fairly certain getting stabbed is a whole lot worse. Derek doesn’t have to deal with that. No one messes with him because no one thinks to. “It’s because of how I look!” He’s shaking, bangs hanging down in his face still damp but no longer dripping water down his face. “You? You look normal. You get to walk around with all your football buddies, no one bats an eye at the quarterback, Derek. At least you like women too!” He points to himself, digs his finger into his own chest. “Me? I look the part. I can’t even pretend. Everyone knew, the whole world knew before I did!”

Derek just stands there, caught in the headlights trying to figure out what to say.

He wipes his eyes, jerks away from the hand Derek tries to put on his arm. “No. No!” he can’t do touch right now. Not like this, not when his body won’t hold still and his knees keep trying to buckle. It happens, this panicked cornered feeling, and usually Derek would hold him down. They’d sit on the floor and Derek would hold his arms down to his chest and they’d just sit like that until Aaron can breathe again. Bones against bones until Aaron feels the fractures of his humanity coming back together but for now, right now? He can’t do it. He can’t be touched.

“I want to go home,” he manages, lower lip quivering despite how much he wants to hold it together. “Please take me home.”

Derek just stares at him, stands there, and watches Aaron cross his arms over his chest and curl in, trying to squeeze the panic out himself. “Okay,” he caves. “Go on, I’ll follow you down.” It’s degrading, humiliating the fact that they can’t even leave this room together. Aaron’s upset and Derek can’t do anything about that right now. It’s not safe until they’re home.

It’s never safe.

With his hair dripping into his face Aaron stumbles in the dark. His shirt is soaking wet, stuck to his skin, and freezing him as tramples down a thin stretch of grass between houses. He wishes he had Derek’s sweatshirt. Something warm. At least something to cover his arms. It had been a stupid idea coming here right after getting off work. The bakery is so impossibly hot and after getting off his shift all he wanted was to be with Derek. To sit in whatever little room Derek could guarantee was safe and drink whatever cheap crap Derek brings him from downstairs. Just sit and listen to the music filtering in from downstairs.

“Hotchner!”

He freezes-- a deadly mistake.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

He knows what happened to Derek. In the hush of the night, laying facing each other in the dark, Derek had told him. Each word a puff of hot air against Aaron’s face, hitting the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. It was supposed to be even, Derek’s intention was to express alikeness. He’d seen the scars, no matter careful Aaron was about the light when he thought things were headed in the direction of nakedness, Derek saw them. He hadn’t said anything that time, run his thumb over the one on Aaron’s chest but kept up his ministrations. Acted as if he didn’t until that moment in bed.

Aaron still hasn’t found the courage to be honest about his own childhood.

Derek comes around the back, half-expecting tonight to go like it always does. Except Aaron hasn’t had any alcohol and he doesn’t come stumbling around the porch to greet Derek from the darkness. There are no stolen kisses or hushed laughter. No Aaron. Derek has half a mind to shout out for him, he couldn’t have gone off far, but then he sees him. Derek sees them. The moonlight shining down casting this awful hue between the houses. He sees Hunter draw his foot back and he can’t hold it back. Won’t let this go on. “Hunter!”

The second that Hunter’s attention is away from him, Aaron slumps to the ground. His blood smeared against the house. He’s still breathing, awful ragged breathes that shoot blood off his lips. He sees Derek in the moonlight, rushing past him. Aaron wishes he wasn’t a coward. Between each blood speckled breathe, he wishes that he wasn’t a coward and had just told Derek. That way he would understand Aaron can take it. He spent his childhood taking beatings for just being alive. At least now it was something coherent. Being beaten for being gay requires at least knowing something about him. His father couldn’t even bother with that.

But Derek doesn’t understand.

Aaron never told him.

He’s pulled down, out of orbit, and back to Earth when Derek squats down beside him, cradles his head in his hands. “Aaron?” he calls out, but Aaron can’t force his eyes to move from the dirt. “Can I--” Derek doesn’t know where to put his hands. If he can put his hands anywhere. “I’m going to-- to lift you, okay?” It’s not a matter of if he’s strong enough. He benches more than his own body weight and that’s significantly more than Aaron’s. He’s just not sure if Aaron’s going to fight him and if Aaron fighting him is good or bad.

“Lean forward,” Derek whispers, cupping the back of Aaron’s head and directing it into his shoulder. He turns, manipulates both their bodies and winces each time, no matter how gentle and calculated his movements are, Aaron still cries out. He still hurts him. “I’m sorry,” becomes his mantra. The only words he can manage out around the tears, the only thing he can get past the thickness in his throat.

Sorry he didn’t stop this sooner.

Sorry that he keeps hurting Aaron.

Sorry they couldn’t be other people. In other places. In another time.

Sorry that it’s all for nothing, that there’s no way this ends well for either of them. They’re going to end up dead or alone but certainly separate.

The second Derek has him in his arms Aaron grips his shirt tightly in one blood-stained hand. He rests his head on Derek’s shoulder, soaking in his warmth. “Home?” he asks, voice breaking.

“We’re going home.”

Aaron wakes up alone in bed.

He’s completely naked, laying with three blankets pulled up over him. One that he recognizes is from the living room. There’s one of Derek’s homemade sock heating pads digging into his sore ribs where he rolled over onto it, he can feel more of them underneath him. He’s been laying here for a while. None of the socks are warm anymore. He’s on Derek’s side of the bed, facing his nightstand, and watches Derek’s blurry alarm clock change time. 1:36 passing to 1:37 to 1:38 just waiting for the fuzzy fingers in his brain to ease up. To allow him to think.

It’s Saturday.

Derek’s off at a football game, not due back for hours. Not until tonight, long after Aaron’s gone to bed.

For an overwhelming moment, his eyes fill with tears, desperation, and solitude creating an awful twist in his stomach. He doesn’t want to be alone. Protectively he draws his knees up, tries to knot himself up, and create a mangled ball. His heart picks up, anxiety increasing as he lays there. He wants Derek. He doesn’t want to be alone.

On the phone’s first rings he curls in tighter, overwhelmed by his own crying that he presses his face into Derek’s pillow and ignores it. He’ll let the machine catch it-- that’s the whole reason Derek bought it. With a sharp end, muffled by the blanket he pulls up over his head, a voice comes through. The machine catching the voice mail.

“Aaron, sweetheart? This is Fran, Derek’s mom? I’m sorry to keep calling sweetie but Derek’s awake now. He’s worried, says you should have woken up by now. I can send Sarah to come get you, Derek told me what happened last night. Please call me back? I hope you’re okay.”

He lays in confused silence, trying to process why Derek’s mother would call him. She calls all the time and occasionally he answers to tell her she’s just missed Derek-- he’s off with friends, at the gym, or at class. They know of one another Derek talks about him to Fran as much as Derek talks about Fran to him. But Fran call him? That’s never happened.

Then he catches it-- “Derek’s awake now”-- and he sits up. Pushed from his mind is the pain, his ribs scream and the blood he can see he’s left on Derek’s pillow. Derek’s awake now. Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is is on the football team. An offensive lineman. A guy whose entire job is to protect Derek but now he knows, he has to know.

Derek’s awake now.

He throws himself out of bed, clipping his already sore hip on the nightstand and staggering for the phone. Tears spilling over his face. What happened while he was sleeping? What did Hunter do?

Fran picks up on the first ring. “Aaron, is that you sweetheart?”

He sniffles, rubbing at his nose with his finger. “Yes, ma’am.” He knows she can hear him crying, his choked sobs as he falls in the direction of the closes chair.

“You had me worried sick,” she says and he can hear that unmistakable fondness in her chastising tone. That must be where Derek gets it from. It makes him smile, even if it’s weak. “How are you feeling, baby? Derek told me what happened. I’m sorry. If I see that boy I’ll wring his neck. Give him a piece of my mind for bothering my boys.”

He just nods, despite the fact that she can’t see that. He knows he should answer her question but he has no idea what he feels. Nothing. He feels nothing as he sits here holding his breath as he waits to ask about Derek. To know what happened because of him. “Is Derek okay? What happened?”

Hunter told a few other team members what he saw. Most brushed him off, Hunters a douchebag, and they like Derek. Others just hate Aaron enough for it to matter to them, enough to what to do something. Or, rather, not do anything. It only took one tackle, a limb bent the wrong way under the weight of three boys.

It was Derek’s knee. A career-ending injury.

A scholarship losing injury.

“Can I--” Aaron chokes. He’s afraid of what happens if Fran says no. “Can I see him?”

“Of course you can.”

Aaron turns away Fran’s offer of a car ride but Desirée still shows up.

He answers the door in a sweatshirt and jeans and knows immediately who it is when he opens it up. Desirée just stares at him for a moment, he can feel all of the seventeen-year-old judgment sizing him up. “You look… awful,” she tells him. She lets herself in, walking past Aaron with one more look. “Mom says I can drive but if you want to do it I have to let you.” She puts the car keys on the counter, sighs as she looks around. “Derek says…” she chews her lip, as she sizes him up again.

He wonders how intimidating he could possibly look to her. Hunched over and wearing a sweatshirt that’s too big for him.

“Would you teach me how to make bread?”

He can’t help but smile, nods without any hesitation.

“Really?”

Aaron nods, “it’s not that hard. More of a-- a waiting game. You have to give the yeast time to rise.”

Desirée has no idea what that means but she nods, “cool.”

He lets her drive. Mostly because his vision is swimming but because he tosses the keys back to her, a clear okay that she can drive, and she beams at him. She likes him. That’s so weirdly important to him.

She has to wake him up when they get to the hospital. The first thing she tells Fran is that he let her drive and Fran smiles at him, shakes her head, and says “you must have a death wish.”

Aaron blushes under the attention, eyes falling to the floor. He barely manages, “drives just like Derek.”

Fran laughs, nodding her head, “she does. Too heavy on the brakes.” Her smile fades a little when she sees Aaron’s sweatshirt, recognizes it from home. Knows it’s Dereks. “Will you let someone look at that,” she asks, too many of his wounds look deep. Cuts that need stitches and a nasty black eye that she knows he hasn’t iced. She’s reminded a little too quickly that Aaron and Derek are still very much kids. Tricky kids. Too old to be told what to do but still wanting direction.

Aaron nods, shying away again from the attention, but nods.

They leave him when the nurse steps in, doesn’t need to say a word. Fran sees him hesitate to lift his shirt and knows. Derek had managed to tell her most of what happened but the morphine made his speech slur, made him emotional. He’d sobbed, high and in pain. Told her what he’d seen the night before. Hunter hitting and kicking at Aaron, the way Aaron slumped forward. How he’d carried Aaron home. Washed the blood off him with a rag. She knew what was under Aaron’s shirt wasn’t something for them to see.

Derek wakes sometime in the middle of the night. The drugs from the surgery are wearing off and with it his blissful escape from the pain. Licking his dry lips he looks around the room, spotting his sisters and frowning as he tries to find his mother. She’s leaning over another cot, on the other side of the room. He watches her, hears the familiar chorus of Blackbird, and watches her stroke Aaron’s forehead, following the line of the relaxed brow.

It makes him smile, his mother used to sing Whitney Houston to him and his sisters to sleep. He told her about Aaron’s obsession with The Beatles, how of all the records the two of them own that’s the only one Aaron will play. Desiréebought the album, his mother told him a week later. She saved up to get it and was eager for her moment to speak to Aaron about it. To be able to befriend her brother’s boyfriend. That’s about the same time Fran began to hound him about bringing Aaron home, to Chicago. She wanted to meet him.

Fran kisses Aaron’s forehead, waiting another moment just to make sure Aaron’s truly asleep before she stands. “He was having a bad dream,” she tells Derek. In truth, he’d been crying in his sleep. In pain, she could tell, and restless. He’d settled with her there and it made her sad to think that maybe he’d just grown too used to sleeping beside someone else. She’d pulled his blankets closer and sang, just as she did with the other three when they were little. Even when they’re twenty, it still works like a charm.

Fran smiles, tries to soothe Derek’s nerves so he doesn’t worry about Aaron. He’s fine for now, sleeping soundlessly. She sits down on the edge of Derek’s bed, cups his cheek, and asks “how are you feeling?”

Derek just looks over to Aaron, his pale parted lips parted and the bandages holding him together. “Is he okay?” He’d been so scared last night watching Aaron sleep. No amount of Tylenol was doing a thing for his pain. Several times he’d sat up in the night and searched for a pulse, counted the far too many seconds separating each of his breathes. Derek thought Aaron might die right there beside him but he’d been more afraid of what might have happened if they went to the hospital.

Fran sighs, stupid love. It’s cute, she has to admit, but so senseless. “He’s sleeping, he’s okay.” She tries to redirect him, “how do you feel?”

Derek looks back over to Aaron. He looks. There’s more than just those pale lips and the bandages. It’s Aaron. He’s sleeping under multiples blankets and looks like himself. How he always looks when Derek rolls over to face him. He believes his mother, she never lies. “My leg hurts,” he whispers, voice cracking. It’s like the entire thing is pulsing, a continuous stabbing feeling. He cries but not from the pain. They betrayed him. The people he so stupidly thought of as his friends. They hurt him like they’d been hurting Aaron.

He should have known better.

He shouldn’t have been so stupid.

This is his fault.

“Derek?” Aaron sits up, hesitating under the combined attention of Derek and Fran.

Fran stands up, nods Aaron over. “Sit with him,” she offers. “I’ll go get a nurse.”

Aaron nods, still waiting, still hesitating to be where he wants to be. Derek motions him closer, manages to move his body over in the bed. Just enough room for Aaron to squeeze in beside him.

“I don’t think I”m supposed to--”

“Lay down.” Derek can see all the bruises and cuts up close again. He brushes his fingers through the hair above Aaron’s ear, turning his palm to his cheek. Gently tracing the outline of a bandage. “Runaway with me,” he whispers. He thought about it all night long while he watched Aaron sleep. “There’s only four more weeks left of the semester.” Aaron’s smart, he’ll get in anywhere he applies. “We’ll transfer someplace else, anywhere else.”

Aaron frowns, he doesn’t like the idea of this impulsivity. Mostly the number of uncertainties that it creates and the questions. Where will they go? How will they know it’s safe? Are they dropping out? Where will they transfer to? What Aaron can’t get into the college that Derek does?

“Hey,” Derek hushes, he strokes his thumb across Aaron’s cheekbone. “Hey, whatever you’re thinking stop. I’m not leaving, not going anywhere you don’t. We do this together, alright?” He smiles, leans forward, and softly knocks their foreheads together. “Four weeks and all of summer break, okay? That’s plenty of time for a smarty pants like you to figure out where we can go.” It had taken less time for Aaron to conclude Illinois was close enough to home for him to go if something happened to his mother but too far away for her or his brother to come to him.

They’ll figure it out.

“Runaway with me?” he asks one more time.

“Okay.”

Frev prompts, Part 4! 🎉

21. The protagonist is a high school student with a knack for drawing comics but they’re also the favorite target of the bullies at school.

One day the bullying gets so bad that the protagonist is unable to cope with reality anymore and, as a means of escapism, writes themselves into their new comic about their favorite topic - The French Revolution. With their favorite pen they had inherited from their writer grandfather, no less.

However, what was supposed to be a harmless little self-insert quickly becomes a reality when the protagonist is magically transported into their comic book and now has to navigate their own story and finish it in order to return to the real world, as well as figure out the mysterious powers of the magical pen.

22. Despite the fact that the days when the Bastille used to be packed with prisoners are gone, a handful were still trapped inside its gloomy walls by the time the infamous prison was taken.

The protagonist is one of the few prisoners who are sentenced to imprisonment inside the Bastille until they and the rest of the prisoners are set free by the revolutionaries.

For the first time in a long while, the protagonist is free but not all is sunshine and butterflies because the revolution is only beginning to escalate and the protagonist has long forgotten how to function in the society outside the prison.

With no other options, the protagonist decides to try and rebuild their life from square one, all while the events of the revolution are unfolding in the city of Paris.

23. Two friends, the protagonists, were raised together by a noble family as adopted wards and used to be close as children, but drifted apart when one of the two went abroad to get a good education.

Nevertheless, the childhood friends find themselves reunited by a pure coincidence during a meeting in the Jacobin Club, which both of them joined mere days ago.

All seems well, until it becomes apparent that the protagonists don’t exactly see eye to eye when it comes to politics in France nor the methods of solving the multiple issues plaguing the country.

This new rift between the protagonists only widens as the revolution progresses and the Jacobin Club gets split into groups on the basis of shared political beliefs.

Will the two protagonists be able to restore the friendship they used to have or will their new differences prove that maybe friendship isn’t always as almighty as people say?

24. The protagonist is acutely aware of the multiple injustices of the French society but they are not too eager to change things personally, hoping that maybe the government will find a way to fix things.

The protagonist, meanwhile, would rather focus on keeping their small family business (a bookshop) afloat and renting out an apartment in the house to make ends meet.

Soon, however, the protagonist ends up getting roped into the events of the revolution regardless when they accidentally overhear their new tenant discuss his plans in a hushed tone with a few other people.

The protagonist has all the evidence that they had unwittingly rented out an apartment to a revolutionary and now they have the evidence to turn that rebellious youth from Blérancourt in along with his buddies.

At first, the best course of action seems fairly obvious. Just report them to the authorities and be done with it.

However, perhaps these youths are more than just stupid kids playing at freedom fighting and maybe they can actually help the country.

When faced with the dilemma of either ratting the young rebels out or joining their cause, the protagonist makes a choice that ends up changing their entire life.

25. The year is 1811. Located near Saint-Petersburg, The Imperial Lyceum is a place where boys from noble families of The Russian Empire live and study. Perhaps the most famous Lyceum of all, it was home to plenty of those who would become prominent in Russian society of the time.

This is where the protagonist, one David de Boudry, teaches French to these boys.

Monsieur de Boudry knows that most of his students are blissfully unaware of a certain secret of his and likes it that way. It is best if they don’t know that he happens to be a younger brother to Jean-Paul Marat himself but changed his last name to avoid the associations.

Keeping this particular tidbit of his biography secret used to be fairly easy, until his older brother, Jean-Paul Marat, appeared in David’s life again on a snowy and frosty January day.

Marat is inexplicably alive, but he is also half-frozen and extremely disheveled when he shows up, not to mention the fact that he arrives with his wife and a very young child in tow. They all need a place to hide from the authorities, and fast.

Being a loving brother, David de Boudry hides his family and is now determined to keep them safe for not even a new name can sever family ties.

But, having made this difficult choice, will Monsieur de Boudry be able to reconcile his love for his family and the devotion to his adoptive home country? And will Marat be able to keep his loved ones and himself safe from the agents of police who lurk nearby and are quite hellbent on proving that the man they are pursuing is indeed the infamous Jacobin?

26. The protagonist is a sophomore who became a member of a Drama Club during their freshman year of high school and they are quite happy to finally have a friend group where they belong. Here nobody judges them for their stutter, their crossdressing and their fear of dogs.The protagonist is even allowed to play roles that would be normally reserved for the opposite gender just so they have an excuse to crossdress.

The upcoming play about the French Revolution is no exception and the protagonist is quite overjoyed but also frustrated that something just doesn’t ring true whenever they read their lines. Frustrated, they sneak into a time machine built by their parents and transport themselves to Paris of 1794.

They soon see that the city is in chaos and rumors about a traitor who had supposedly escaped the guillotine and went on the run with his family spread like wildfire. Moreover, the protagonist soon finds themselves in a bit of a pickle because of their name and physical appearance.

Even a man whom the protagonist saves from a mob advises them not to reveal their name and to lay low as soon as the protagonist introduces themselves. The protagonist is naturally confused but they do want to stay alive and free.

In order to survive, the protagonist decides to do what actors do best - improvise. It’s not easy, of course, but the protagonist tries to stay optimistic.

They hope that they will make it. They know they will. Giving up is not an option. After all, a Desmoulins never gives up. Right?

27. The French Revolution is not an easy period in history. It should be fairly obvious why.

The country is drowning in chaos and the future is uncertain, no matter how hard The Committee of Public Safety tries to maintain at least some semblance of order.

Meanwhile, in the heart of Paris, lives our protagonist whose main concern was not the revolution, but rather the fact that it’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep their inn’s doors open.

And then, one day, the unthinkable happens. A guest is found murdered in their room. Naturally, all the other guests are now suspects, and so is the staff. A diverse bunch of people with their own agendas, secrets and ties to the victim has gathered in the inn.

Sensing that something isn’t right, the protagonist decides to become an amateur sleuth and get to the bottom of the situation.

A “whodunnit” murder mystery is about to take place in the inn and the protagonist is determined to solve it.

28. A few years passed after the betrayal of the Thermidorians. The Revolution is destroyed and all of the enemies of the new government are dead… Except for one.

The protagonist is a patient in a mental hospital on the outskirts of Paris. Here the treatment of the patients is becoming more and more humane than it used to be before. That being said, the living conditions still leave a lot to be desired. Moreover, the protagonist feels isolated and lonely due to their personal issues and the trauma that caused them to become basically imprisoned in the facility.

Luckily, the loneliness disappears when the protagonist secretly manages to befriend another patient, a mysterious young man who is kept in isolation from the rest of the people at the facility, is forced to wear a mask to hide his face and is treated far worse than the others.

Horrified by the extent of the abuse that their new friend has to endure, the protagonist teams up with him to escape to Avignon, where the protagonist’s relatives live.

Little do they know, their new friend and partner in crime is an outlaw and a Montagnard, the last of them all, so when the two finally escape the police quickly catch wind of the situation.

Can the duo get to Avignon and avoid recapture? Will this unlikely friendship help them heal from their respective trauma? And will the revolutionary’s plan to avenge his executed friends be successful?

29. (Crossover with Greek mythology) When Adrestia, a minor Greek goddess, is banished to Earth from Mount Olympus for causing too much trouble, she assumes a human disguise and travels to France of 1789, where great changes are just around the corner.

Finally finding herself in her own element once again, Adrestia (whose human name is Adrienne) decides that she has no right to miss all the fun and joins the forces of the revolution. She is a goddess of revolt and a daughter of Ares, after all.

One would think that having a goddess on your side will make fighting easier, but things are not that simple and the other gods don’t exactly take kindly to troublemakers who go against authority.

Nevertheless, Adrestia is more than willing to try and help her new allies to win in their fight for Liberty, Equality and Fraternity.

30. When the protagonists first meet up in real life, they’re ecstatic. After a few years of chatting on the Internet, the two French Revolution enthusiasts have finally met each other face to face and now they decide to set an old plan of theirs in motion.

The duo wants to perform a time travel spell invented by their witch ancestors and change the way the French Revolution ended. The spell is successfully cast, but in the process the warlocks run out of magic and are now forced to wait in the past until they are strong enough to cast the spell again to return home.

But hey, at least while they’re waiting they can do what they always wanted to do - prevent the Thermidorian Reaction, and they are going to try to do just that, even though preventing a coup d’état is far from easy, especially for two college kids from the future.

31. It’s 1815. Joseph Fouché is the Minister of Police but his days in office are numbered and he knows it.

What’s more, rumors spread about the incompetence of the police as nobody can catch the culprit behind a new string of murders. Fouché hopes that cracking the case would restore his reputation, but something isn’t right about these murders.

So far, every single victim was a participant of the Thermidorian Reaction and it simply cannot be a mere coincidence. This pattern makes Fouché fear for his life and his reputation, as in addition to the murders the sins that he and his allies had pinned on their enemies begin to resurface.

Fearing that he is next and that his own crimes are about to be exposed as well, Fouché becomes obsessed with catching this mysterious vigilante. He even has a prime suspect in mind, but he can neither track him down nor prove that it was him.

Meanwhile, the time Fouché has to rehabilitate the police force is running out. Soon he too might face the music at long last, as well as learn exactly why sparing one of your enemies while killing the rest is considered to be a classic mistake.

Will the vigilante get to Fouché? How much time does the Minister of Police actually have left before karma knocks on his door? And why does the youngest police inspector in history, who is Fouché’s beloved protégé, turn against his mentor?

32. When the protagonist decided to sneak into the Catacombs of Paris for “shits and giggles” with their buddies, the last thing they expected was a sudden time travel to a closet in an apartment of a prominent revolutionary, whose skull the protagonist was holding in their hands seconds ago.

Naturally, the protagonist gets caught by the housekeeper and promptly accused of breaking and entering at best, and an assasination attempt at worst. It doesn’t help that the protagonist has strange pills and a baseball bat on their person.

But when they’re about to get prosecuted, the inhabitant of that same apartment suddenly speaks up on their behalf and defends the protagonist, claiming that it was a mere misunderstanding. Later, that same revolutionary visits the protagonist, reveals that he knows about the existence of time travel and promises to help, as long as the protagonist goes along with his plan.

Despite suspecting that the revolutionary has an ulterior motive, the protagonist does want answers so they agree to play along...at least for a while.

33. After the Revolutionary War in America, the protagonist follows his friend and mentor, Marquis de Lafayette, to Paris as he is the only family the hero has at this point.

At first, when the French Revolution rolls around, the hero still stays by his mentor’s side, never questioning his opinions and decisions and admiring him as a hero.

But after the September Massacres reveal Lafayette’s...less heroic side the hero is utterly broken and disappointed that he trusted the wrong person yet again. This revelation prompts the hero to switch sides and become a double agent, working with the Jacobins while pretending that he is still loyal to Lafayette.

Is this the correct choice to make or will the hero’s naïveté and a simple desire to belong betray him once again?

34. Maximilien Robespierre finds himself in a difficult situation. Somehow, everyone who crosses his path keeps going missing, only to turn up brutally murdered.

Moreover, Robespierre keeps receiving notes with rather...stalkerish messages written by the culprit. The stress and the crippling paranoia are slowly taking a toll on his frail body and he collapses altogether after finding out that Camille Desmoulins and Antoine de Saint-Just got attacked as well.

Fortunately, Saint-Just and Desmoulins manage to survive the ordeal and decide that enough is enough. After a long recovery, the two men decide to set aside their differences and track down the mysterious stalker before other people close to Robespierre get hurt.

Who knows, perhaps this buddy cop-esque adventure will even help Saint-Just and Desmoulins resolve their rivalry once and for all, now that a mutual friend of theirs needs both of them.

35. An immigrant enrolls into a high school in the country where they live now, a country located on the other side of the planet, miles away from their homeland.

Isolated from the rest of the students, shunned for their Eastern European accent (feel free to pick the specific country) and their Socialist beliefs, the protagonist has very few friends and even they are imaginary - three French revolutionaries whom the protagonist admires the most.

However, things change when a classmate bonds with the protagonist over their fascination with the French Revolution and the two decide to team up and write a novel about their favorite topic, all while the three imaginary friends, who may or may not be something more than a simple product of imagination, are guiding these kids on their quest to rehabilitate the legacy of the revolution.

P. S. The Fouché tag has been graciously lent to me by @frevandrest , the tag’s inventor. This needs to become an official tag imo.

Random HankCon Reverse AU Post

I wrote this on Discord some months back, and very luckily somebody fantastic helped me out by finding it! <3 <3 <3 The context was around the HK series already being a canonical type of android in the game: it's a housekeeper model, like the HK-400 Connor hunts down in his first investigation with Hank. So from that, everyone was discussing a reverse AU where Hank was an HK housekeeper, Connor was an overworked older brother taking care of his younger brother, and one of them was proposing that Connor just rent an HK to help around the house and take the load off. And from that, I came up with this roughly described - but still fun and angsty - concept. Picture reading it as I wrote it: mid-conversation, and butting in to slap this idea onto everyone. :D

Omg - Hank helping out enough in just a few ways by making lunch or something, or dinner for the next night, and Connor actually having time to go to sleep and spend time with both of them. Or Hank activating a Cranky Child Up Past His Bedtime protocol and making Connor go to bed, because the poor guy doesn't have an off-switch when every single case just needs a 'few more minutes' for him to crack it.

Connor having such a rough week that his little brother saves up cash from - pfft, I dunno, what's stupidly diabetically sweet enough for this - recycling beer bottles from around the neighbourhood, purely to rent Hank for Connor's sake AND THEN IT BECOMES LIKE SOME KINDA WEIRD-ASS DATE THAT NEITHER OF THEM SEEM TOO INTERESTED IN ENDING But then - then - they get into a bit of a routine like that. Connor's happy enough to rent Hank when his little brother needs him, but now it's grown into a... "Okay, fine, if I need him too, then that just helps both of us. That's okay." ... And then one day, his little brother's staying at a friend's house or something, and Connor's - just... bored? Lonely? Tired? He's not sure. But he flicks over to a website, sees Hank is available, and decides to rent Hank really just for himself. And it's the first time that's ever happened without a kid in the house or without Connor himself being too exhausted to function, so it officially becomes a weird-ass date of them hanging around. Maybe going outside to get air. Whatever happens. Now here's where I can draw upon some more IRL bullshit: water heater rentals. These things last ten years, you pay $40 a month to rent them, but at the end of the tenth year, you'd still have to pay to buy it out. And that - despite everything you pay - could still cost like $6,000. Even if you bought the thing outright, it would've cost $5,000.

I say that because I imagine Connor getting to the point where he's thinking... he might buy Hank. Whenever rental products go up for sale, there's usually a steep discount, so he thinks it won't cost too much. No one else rents Hank as much as he does anyway, and he's not sure how much he's spent, but surely that would knock the price down. He's still very much trying to think of this as a practical transaction to manage the purchase of a machine, after all. Except Connor is the one asking to buy Hank. The company isn't offering. So the sticker shock at the price is - just... unbelievable. To the point that Connor very much regrets even opening his mouth. And the nanny company says it's that or they throw Hank out, because - just the IRL - they can't be seen selling Hank cheaper or giving him away when they're done with him, or they'd never make any money. "People would just wait until he's thrown out and go dumpster diving." So now we have a ticking clock and Connor has a bill to pay. We could do two things from here: 1) Connor gets the money (spoiler). It isn't easy. He's already doing all the overtime he's allowed because he's volunteered for it - he can't afford to let something like sleep get in the way of catching a murderer - so he's making the most that he can. He doesn't have any vacation or sick days to cash in because he's used them all whenever he's burnt out; that's probably why he looked into getting Hank in the first place. And it's not like he has time to get a second job or anything. It's his little brother that asks, "Do we really need a car?"

So they both start selling everything. They don't really need a crappy couch. This table's been wobbly since day one. A garage full of crap that is coated in dust and grime is just enough to get them over the edge of it. And it's a weird feeling, bringing a nanny-bot back to an almost empty house. Connor might comment on how there'd be a lot less to clean, which is bullshit, but the best he can in defence of it all. So Hank takes it for what it is, slowly appreciating exactly what this meant for all of three of them. It's an empty house that's quickly become a full home. 2) Connor doesn't get the money (yesssssssssssss) Because there's just no way to pay that. It's ridiculous - even if he could afford it, he should still be arresting these people, because this is an obvious robbery. He can't make that last leap to admit this is more than a machine to help around the house, and the company - just... "Okay. You have three days to change your mind if you're interested." His little brother tries to get him to. He asks if Connor can just sell the car. Not only is that a bad idea, because how else is Connor going to get to work, but who's going to pay that much for it anyway? It's not worth it, Hank is a walking piece of plastic programmed to be friendly, and if they need a nanny-bot so bad, they can buy a new one for a third of what the rental company is charging. On the second-last day, his little brother tries the ol' "Rent Hank for Connor's sake" trick. It's a last-ditch effort to get Connor to admit that they would all feel awful losing Hank, machine or not. He's real enough to them, right? Wrong. Plastic. Money. Facts. Connor's more pissed that his little brother wasted more cash that could've gone towards paying a price they would never be able to afford anyway, and walks off to let his little brother hang out with the android for a last night. He doesn't want to draw this out for himself, and Hank had better be gone by the time Connor comes home.

Connor doesn't do much. He mostly just walks around for hours. And for way too long - eventually, he's at a park, and there's Hank emerging from the snow (oh yeah, it's snowing) to gently wait there in silence. That goes on for long enough for Connor to accept that he's going to miss Hank. It's a short conversation, and Hank's used the Cranky Kid protocol for Connor to know to start heading back, but that's all Connor says: "We'll miss you, I guess. Thanks." Hank is gone by the time Connor wakes up. The house is quiet, his little brother has his breakfast, and Connor has his lunch made. And that is what really gets to him. Hank - over and above his programming - once again took care of Connor, too. Those walls that were already dropping finally drop the rest of the way, and knowing perfectly well that he's too late, he calls the rental company up to ask if there's a payment plan or some extension or anything he can do to keep Hank. There is! Fortunately! And if Connor would like to arrange that for any of these other rental androids, the company can certainly help. What about Hank? Well, this is a business. They had a deadline and costs around that deadline, so they couldn't keep waiting around forever in the hopes that some family changed their mind about buying a standard android. It's unfortunate, but yes, Hank was appropriately disposed of. Would Connor like to buy another android that looks like Hank instead? Connor hangs up before they can give him the full sales pitch. His little brother notices. His work notices. Everyone notices that Connor's different lately. He's reached an almost terrifying level of laser focus on his work. He has all the time he wants to catch all the bad guys he feels like, and he does because who's going to stop him, really? And it goes like that while his little brother keeps asking for Connor to rent a different android, or to just buy one that's like Hank. On and on and on and on and on and on and on until Connor finally just loses it, dumps his phone on the ground, tells his brother to do whatever the hell he wants so long as he shuts up, and storms back out. He's out there for hours in the cold, half to spite Hank's memory - that he's become painfully reliant on for reasons he ascribes to guilt - and half because he knows it's not only guilt he's feeling. Everything tingles. His fingers, his nose, his ears, and he's at least considering going home to his car so he can warm up without having to do a walk-of-shame back inside. He's saving that for when his brother's asleep. This is roughly a minute before he notices Hank walking out in the snow. Not Hank. Not exactly. It's another android that looks like Hank, and that jolt in Connor's chest twists into a searing ache again. He's changed his mind and he's out here entirely for spite now, because his little brother must've called his bluff and rented another nanny and sent him to drag Connor home.

He's committed to that until Hank mentions the number of times Connor's tried to fight him on going to bed, and the grand total of zero times that Hank's lost this fight. Hank's very good at this. He's had to deal with a lot of rough families and teenagers. Hank remembers that because each family has a profile saved based on every visit: preferences, schedules, the kids' needs, memories... They've always been backed up. It's a business, after all. It takes Connor a few minutes to get it. He's still trying to decide if this android is real or not, let alone... his Hank. And Hank is perfectly willing to keep coming back to convince him. And he will, every time, for as long as Connor keeps a copy of his memories. ... But it is going to be after Connor is in bed. Connor's never been happier to get dragged away, kicking at this 1.98m cuddle-bear the whole time.

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (St. Louis)

summary: (pt 1) Reader joins Douxie in the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he? - part 4) Doux and Reader get out of Missouri finally but not before one last stop      (part 5)

warnings: swearing

word count: 6205

a/n: im getting a smidge impatient on my planned mutual pining slow burn as you can see. mmm i want a piece of st louis butter cake. @blixeon​ gets credit for putting the douxie trying to keep y/n away from moppet!douxie idea in my head. its not a big plot point here but idk felt i should still mention it

Douxie stared up at the ceiling with dry, unblinking eyes. There were many interesting cracks in the ceiling, barely illuminated by the light streaming in from the bathroom door. He was wide awake, despite not being able to convince himself to move. He was never a morning person, but once he remembered where he was, it was like someone had poured a bucket of ice water on him. Y/n was no longer clinging to him when he woke up, albeit, she was not even in the bed at all when he woke up. That had gave him a fright before he realized he could hear the shower running. Somehow, this was worse than if she’d still been there when he woke up. This meant she woke, untangled herself from him, and was probably going to pretend like it didn’t happen, since she couldn’t possibly know he stayed awake long enough to know about it. Which, while waking up in her arms would have been a little awkward, at least he would have gotten a conversation out of it. An acknowledgement. Something.

Speaking of the shower, somehow that was doing a number on him too. It was so strange. They’ve lived together for years now; they’ve shared a bathroom for years now. He’s heard her shower so many fucking times. No sweat. These feelings were making him silly. Perhaps it was this fucking room. The domesticity of it all, which was a weird thing to say when you literally lived with said person. Yet, he couldn’t stop imagining that he was waking up in His Home, listening to His Wife get ready for work in the en suite of Their Bedroom. She didn’t want to wake him, how sweet. She was always worried about him getting more sleep. He’d go help her with her hair, braid it for her. His hands would run through her soft hair as he styled it. She’d kiss him on the nose before she left to go make him a cup of coffee while he got ready. She knew just how he liked it. They’d brush their teeth together, every morning, just like they did last night.

Bleeding balroths, last night. What was he going to do about last night. His dumb heart wouldn’t just be able to leave well enough alone, apparently. Does he,,, say something? Perhaps he should wait to see if she says something. That would be,, the safer route. He knew one thing for sure though. He wasn’t going to act like he didn’t love every second of it. He’d made up his mind. His life has been way too long and lonely for him to keep this ‘it’s not like I like you’ act up. And for Merlin’s sake, he had died not even three days ago. He had almost been gone, and would have never known the love of his beloved. And family wasn’t just who you have, it was also who you’re with. And he was with Y/n. She was already his family, so why not be his family? Like he dreamed of? Yes, he was going to come clean. If she said something. Yes.

Suddenly, he was aware of a noise. Someone had just knocked on the front door of the room. Or less of a knocking and more of a rapping. Archie’s ear’s flicked, but he didn’t stir. Douxie held his breath. The rapping stopped, but now whoever it was trying to open the door. Thank Merlin he warded that thing up. It couldn’t open from the outside, he made sure of it. The door handle stopped moving. Doux still made no noise. Hopefully whoever or whatever that was had decided to move on to easier prey.

Y/n combed her fingers through her wet hair. It was the best she could do at the moment. She’d try and braid it back while it was still wet, so it wouldn’t get even worse. Y/n pulled on the same clothes she’d been wearing for a week. Well, actually she had been wearing a medieval dress for most of it, but still. She looked in the mirror. Not bad for someone on the run. But they did need to make a shopping trip. As much as Y/n did not want to waste an entire other day to a store (thanks Kmart), and didn’t want to spend more of their small savings they were living off of, they did need some things. Backpacks to keep their few belongings close, one more set of clothes each so they could have something to be wearing while they wash the other set, maybe some pajama pants would be nice, although nonessential, a couple of toothbrushes that weren’t the motel provided ones, plus a tube of toothpaste, soap, a hairbrush, phone chargers, some emergency food that wouldn’t spoil, some reusable water bottles, a fucking first aid kit even, lots of stuff. It’s not like they were able to pack for this trip. Hell, they should probably get Nari an outfit that would cover up her, eh, forest spirit-ness. Her running around in leaves isn’t exactly helping their conspicuousness. Despite Y/n not wanting to add to that list, she sure was getting cold in her short-sleeved top. She needed a jacket. She’d been borrowing Douxie’s a bit for the last few days, but if she just stole it then he would be cold. She needed one of her own, she supposed.

Y/n walked out of the bathroom. Archie and Nari were still snoozing, but Doux looked like he was awake. He sat up as soon as he realized Y/n had come out. He looked, troubled. And he had every right to be, she thought. He had just suffered the loss of his mentor and died himself. He had been blankly staring at the ceiling when she’d first came into the room. He probably had so much on his mind. Thankfully he had Archie and herself. They’d be there for him, she’d make sure of it. It’d be best to give him some more time to think, though. She didn’t want to push too hard. He’d tell her if he was struggling, she was sure of it. He’d been so open lately. And they’d had plenty of talks in the past about not expressing frustrations in their lives. He hadn’t been too open with her when they first started living together and it had made being roommates stressful at first. It wasn’t a problem anymore though. They’d worked through it, and it had even brought them closer.

She told him it was his turn for the bathroom now. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then quietly nodded as he got out of bed and headed for the shower. Strangely, this inn stay has been the most normal things had been all week. It was almost like they were home. She was back in her routine of waking, getting ready, telling Douxie it was his turn to get ready. He was so sweet, he always let her have the bathroom first. So chivalrous, although, she had a sneaking suspicion it was more of his excuse to sleep in a little longer.

It was nice, living with Douxie. It was the first time she’d been on her own. Or, well, not on her own per se, since Douxie was there, but at least away from her aunt. Her aunt had practically raised her, but that didn’t mean she was too grateful for it. She felt guilty about that last part, but not too guilty. Her aunt was pretty cold. It was clear that Y/n was just a charity case to her, a beggar who wouldn’t be looked at twice if not for blood relation. She hadn’t even bothered telling Y/n about their family’s magic until Y/n had stumbled face first into it herself. And even then, she only taught Y/n a minimal number of spells, just enough to control it, so she could successfully hide it. Didn’t need some troublesome untrained wizard ruining the family name and scaring the party guests. Y/n didn’t even know that wizards were pretty much immortal at a certain point until she noticed it herself. The people she had grown up with were all out there getting their pretty adult faces, and she was stuck with a baby face. Her aunt only told her once she questioned it. She was well past being nineteen now, but was going to be stuck like this forever apparently. What a great way to live.

Of course, she was absolutely thrilled when she found out her new roommate was in the same boat as her in that department. It was serendipity. The whole thing with Douxie was perfect, really. She had heard through her friend who worked at Hextech that someone had put up a roommate ad flyer on the company’s bulletin board and she called right away. She hadn’t been having any luck apartment hunting. She couldn’t afford rent on her own with her bookstore job, and Arcadia Oaks wasn’t exactly a college town teeming with people looking for roommates. A wizard roommate would be perfect, and the price was right. So imagine her surprise when said new roommate also turned out to be her boss. Y/n hadn’t even known he was looking for a roommate, let alone that he was a fellow wizard. His old roommate, Jack, had gotten married and moved out last month, he told her. Y/n was surprised at how very easy it was getting into this agreement too, Doux already knew her so he didn’t even interview her. And she didn’t have to worry about new person awkwardness. It really was serendipity. Of course, it hadn’t been all rosy, as mentioned before, but they were really groovin’ together now.

Y/n stretched out on the bed. She could hear the water running through the wall. It had been so awesome living right above her job. She got to sleep in, and she’d get ready, eat some breakfast, and be able to instantly step into the bookstore. She’d never be late ever again. Or she never was late again. That was a depressing thought. But hey, bright side, now they could have all the fun of starting up a new bookstore. Perhaps she could convince Douxie to add on a tea shop this time too. One that had cute little round tables with pretty gingham table cloths and flower vases, filled with flowers that they grew themselves in the pots on their balcony. They’d make sure the new bookstore had a nice window that was meant for a display but they’d leave as a place for Archie to sleep in and make snarky comments as he watched the people go by. Douxie could paint the letters on the signs and window, he was great at that. It’d be a task, but truly, they had to remake their bookstore. Even if not in Arcadia. A new bookstore they could fill up with love, that’d be an idea Y/n could hold on to.

Stars, she loved their bookstore. She loved the smell. She loved the peaceful homey vibe. She loved the man who owned it. Whoops, forget about that last part. She even loved the quirky characters it drew in. One time, she encountered this really crazy lady, and she wasn’t even sure if this lady was real or if she dreamt her, since she was the only witness. But Mordrax’s miracles, was this lady something. It started normally enough, Y/n picking up the store’s landline.

“GDT Arcane Bookstore! Please state your grievances.” She knew in the back of her mind that she was the only person who found her dumb jokes funny, but she still made them to brighten up her own day. Also to piss off Hisirdoux with her unprofessionalism. He made the same passive-aggressive ‘I’m disappointed in you’ face every time. It was fun.

“Yes, Hello. I would like to know if you carry any children’s books.”

“Yes ma’am, we sure do. A whole section.”

“Great. And are you child friendly?”

“Are we-, child friendly? I-, Yes I suppose we are ma’am.”

“Perfect. And you’re open until eight?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Thank you, young lady.”

The whole phone call was odd. Y/n wasn’t too jazzed about being called ‘young lady’ either. She had mocked the lady as soon as the phone call ended, but she shrugged it off, and had forgotten that the whole thing had even happened as she went about her day. Then, at about seven, this lady rolls up. She was dressed to the nines but like, in an old rich person way. Long fur coat, black dress underneath with pearls around her neck. On one arm, she had a fancy purse covered in the logo of a fashion brand Y/n wasn’t going to admit she recognized. In the other, she carried a large porcelain doll, the size of a five-year-old, which was dressed in a frilly pink dress that remined her of the dresses her aunt used to make her wear. When Y/n greeted her, she recognized the voice as the strange caller from earlier. Y/n got the feeling that some sort of shit was about to go down, and couldn’t wait. If only Archie was here.

Fur coat lady sat her doll down on the old loveseat in the sitting area and asked Y/n to keep an eye on the doll while she went to go pick out some books. Emily could be so mischievous sometimes, she told Y/n. She assured fur coat lady that she’d watch Emily like a hawk. The doll’s painted eyes stared into Y/n’s soul. Fur coat lady came back far longer than Y/n was comfortable with. She asked Y/n if Emily had been a good-mannered girl. Y/n just nodded, not sure if she should be encouraging this, on second thought. Fur coat lady then preceded to read the doll nine children’s books in a row, pausing in between only to ask the doll if she had liked it. Y/n was too baffled to even tell this lady to scram, we aren’t a library, you know. It crept closer to eight, and Y/n was actually dreading what was going to happen when she’d have to kick this lady out, but thank the stars, fur coat lady starts telling her doll about how it was close to its bedtime so they couldn’t read any more stories, aww darn, and they had to go now. She thanked Y/n as she walked out of the door. Y/n flipped that closed sign behind her and quickly retreated upstairs for the night. She’d go make a cup of tea to relax her nerves after that encounter. Y/n had plenty of other wild stories of people who’ve stopped by their bookstore. It was great for conversation at parties.

Y/n loved parties. With Douxie came all his friends, and she didn’t mind that one bit. They were always over whenever Doux had time off. It was so nice; it kept their place lively. Y/n cooked and baked a lot, it was one of those skills her aunt insist she have, and having so many mouths to enjoy her food felt good. And whether it was band practice or game night, she was happy to play hostess. Douxie’s friends were fun to talk to. She suddenly had the freedom to invite her own friends over too. Having so many people around all the time had helped her loneliness big time when she first moved in. Her aunt’s house may have been big, but it was empty. Her aunt threw a fancy party a month, but none of the people there were people worth talking to. It was so cold. Their apartment was warm.

Honestly, as insane as it was to think about, Y/n couldn’t see herself ever leaving Douxie to live on her own anymore. At first, this arrangement was supposed to be a temporary thing until she could find a better job and go off on her own. But somehow along the way, ‘the apartment we share’ became Their Apartment, and the bookstore that she happened to operate with him became Their Bookstore. It was nuts, and also the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to Y/n. It was the home she’d never had. Douxie and Archie were her family. Way more so than her aunt ever was. It was beautiful, magical, marvelous. She no longer worked, she just lived. Hell, she couldn’t even remember the last time Doux had formally assigned her a shift. She was just kind of always there. Which she was glad to do. She loved it. And when it was time to stop working, she’d just head upstairs and get to spend even more time with her favourite person. That is, if he wasn’t on one of his bistro shifts. She felt so safe and cared for. She no longer felt alone.

If Douxie wanted to make that, how you say, a little more official, Y/n wouldn’t be opposed to that. She had a hunch that he had some sort of feelings for her, if his recent actions were anything to go by. Although, just like she didn’t want to push him about the angst feelings, she didn’t want to push him in these feelings either. He’d tell her when he was good and ready. Slow and steady wins the race after all. Besides, if she was wrong and he didn’t have feelings for her, she’d definitely be tossing this good thing they had going out the window directly into the dumpster. She had to admit though, waking up this morning cuddled into him was the loveliest way she’d ever woken up in her life. She could get used to that.

She wondered if Douxie would be a wedding person or an elopement person. Not that she expected him to marry her. But it would be nice. She rolled over and found her phone on the nightstand. There wasn’t any harm in looking at some wedding dresses, right? Just in case. Y/n listened to Nari yawn and shuffle over to the bed. She opened an arm for the forest child who snuggled in, curious at what Y/n was looking at. Y/n tilted the phone for her to see. Nari really liked the poufy dresses. She’d point excitedly to the one’s she thought were pretty while Y/n scrolled. While Y/n wasn’t a fan of big frilly stuff herself, she had to admit, those poufy dresses would make her feel like Cinderella, which was never something she’d have thought appealing, but somehow it was. There were some really gorgeous not poufy ones also, and even a cool black one. Some that Douxie might like too. Y/n leaned more towards those, but wasn’t gonna tell Nari that. The veggie lady sure was having as much fun as her right now, surprisingly. Hopefully she wouldn’t blab any of this to Hisirdoux though.

Speak of the devil, he came out of the bathroom and sat on the end of the bed. Y/n quickly closed the app she was scrolling through. She sat up, taking Nari with her. Archie yawned and stretched, after sensing movement in the room. He moved from the chair into Douxie’s lap. After giving Arch a good scratch behind the ears, Douxie turned to Y/n.

“So, what’s today’s itinerary?”

“I-, wait, why do I have to be the one who decides what we do?”

“Because you’re the one who likes to have a plan when it comes to these things.”

“Fair enough.” Y/n pulled up google maps. If she had known she would have to do this she would have done it while he got dressed instead of fantasizing about their wedding. “Okay, so as much as I hate to say this, but we gotta go back to the store today.”

Douxie groaned as he laid back. His still wet hair was gonna dry funky like this, but he didn’t care. “Fine. We’ll do that in Illinois. We gotta get out of this town before anything else.”

“I agree,” she paused, seeing something that caught her eye. It would be frivolous, but she couldn’t help herself from asking “Ooh! Can we stop in St. Louis?”

“St. Louis?”

“Yeah! It’ll be fun, Douxie. We can go sit in those cafés that people go to in the black and white movies, we can go take a cheesy tourist picture of us by the arch thing, and I’m really craving some St. Louis butter cake now.”

Doux laughed. “Okay, but only for a few hours, Love.” The least he could do was let her have a little down time to relax and have fun after this hell week. Highly populated cities were good for throwing off their scent too.

“Thank you,” she went back to her map, snickering, “And we’ll stop in Effingham to shop.” She snorted.

“Effingham?” Douxie said it correctly, in his proper accent, which was not as amusing.

“Effing. Ham. Baby.” He rolled his eyes.

They booked it out of that motel and out of that town. Douxie all but tossed the room key into the creepy innkeeper’s hands as they rushed out. Back on the boat, safe at last. He ran a mental headcount once they boarded. Y/n always held Nari’s hand when they went places, so they wouldn’t have to worry about her wandering off, but it still made Douxie feel better to go over his tiny mental list and make sure they were both still safe and with him. Archie, he didn’t have to worry about as much. Even if the cat-dragon wandered he’d always come back. He could track Douxie by scent for a hundred miles too. Y/n had a habit of getting lost, though. He had to keep an eye on her. He didn’t need her and Nari off in fairyland where the Order could find and abduct them at any given time.

Douxie’s hair had still been damp when they set off, but the wind took care of that for him. Sure, wind-tousled bangs were in, but not bangs tousled by real wind. He was sure he was rocking it though. He could pass it off as something he did on purpose. People already thought his relatively tame style was outlandish, they’d just think the messy hair was part of the look. His only qualm was Y/n. He didn’t want to embarrass himself to her any further. His Camelot self already inflicted so much damage in that department this week. That moppet with a man bun had messed up spells, quoted sappy poetry to her, bragged about being Merlin’s apprentice, and even tried serenading her with his lute in attempts to impress her. It was mortifying. He had spent the first part of their Camelot adventure distracted by having to keep Y/n away from his younger self. It was not good for the whole ‘save time’ mission. Thankfully, he had Claire there with him, who had agreed to help him once she had buggered the information out of him. Thank Merlin for nosy teen girls. Claire was a godsend.

He had to admit, he was a smidge disappointed that she didn’t bring up the cuddling. Y/n hadn’t even made a joking reference to it in passing. He would have to bring it up then. But when, how? It wasn’t exactly something that would come up in natural conversation.

He watched her, hanging over the ship’s railing again. They passed a field with some cows and she made sure to point at them and say cows. He smiled at that; Y/n always managed to make him smile. He could recall how bad he had felt when Jack left and he thought he was going to have to fire her, his only employee, to keep up with rent. He had asked Zoe if he could put up a flyer in Hextech in a desperate attempt to find someone before that had to happen. And low and behold, among the three answers he got to the ad was miss L/n herself. It was an easy decision really, and it took away the uncertainty since he knew she was someone that he already liked. As a bonus, Y/n didn’t have a familiar of her own that might fight with Archie, because let’s be real, as much as Douxie loved Archie, the dragon-cat wasn’t afraid of stepping on toes. Although, it did feel kind of strange to give Y/n her paycheck and then for her to hand a little more than half of it back to him on rent day. But it just worked.

He remembered the first time he walked by the fridge to see that not only had Y/n added some fridge magnets to the kitchen, but she had taken the time to write a message to him. It, um, was sort of a rude note, meant to tease, an inside joke. Which he thought was funny, he just wished Zoe hadn’t seen it. It was hard to explain, and Zoe never let him hear the end of it. Archie got a kick out of it too. Y/n would switch the message almost daily, and it never failed to make him smile. He still had to deal with his friends seeing them and teasing him about it, but he’d never change her magnet jokes for anything. They would stay there until she replaced them with equally embarrassing messages meant just for him. It felt sweet to know someone was thinking about him enough to come up words meant to make him laugh on a daily basis.

They had just passed by a town called Eureka, which meant they were coming up on St. Louis. Good. Douxie couldn’t wait for lunch. He had the appetite of a winning fat bear these past few days. Probably the stress. That butter cake Y/n had mentioned was sounding so tasty. He could almost smell it. What Douxie hadn’t considered when he agreed to this was that the magic flying ship couldn’t go through metropolitan areas. Well, it could, but it’d be seen. So despite his growling stomach, he wound up taking the ship around the entire concrete jungle of Missouri, staying in the forested areas. He figured he could park the boat over in Illinois, just outside of St. Louis. This added a whole other hour to the trip than he was expecting, but now at least he knew to take large cities into consideration when choosing routes.

After hiding the boat in a heavily wooded area, the four took the bus into downtown. So when Y/n said she wanted to go to an old café from a movie, she had meant a very specific old café from a specific movie. She had told him it wasn’t a big deal and there were plenty of other cafes, but Douxie was gonna get her there by golly. And he did. The happiness written on her face was worth the extra bus miles. And wow, this café had some delicious food. They had salmon, which Archie enjoyed a little more than usual. Said something about paying himself back. As if he paid for anything, being a cat. That St. Louis butter cake did not disappoint. Archie was pretty fond of the cake too. It was too sweet for Nari, though. Y/n savored every bite. Doux watched her, while he ate his own, and it was so cute how smiley this was making her. He’d learn the recipe for this cake so he could make it for her once they got… home.

Douxie was still trying to shake off that depressing thought when Y/n finished up and was already trying to get the move on. Not without getting a picture first, of course. Not satisfied with just the scenery of the café itself, she begged Douxie to pose for her in various spots around it. He obliged, despite his scruffy appearance. She didn’t think he was that scruffy, and what was better than pictures of her favourite person in a cool place she’d always wanted to go. She also snapped one of Archie to post to her cat insta she secretly kept of him. Douxie knew about it, and contributed pictures to it himself, but neither of them were about to tell Archie he was internet famous as archie_the_emo_kitty. These pictures were going to hold good memories in them. All pictures do.

There was one more photo Y/n wanted to get. Silly cliché tourist picture with the gateway arch in the background. She wanted at least one of just her and Douxie, after the group photo. She’d have to somehow get one of Archie too, since she wasn’t about to pass up the chance to make a pun in the caption about Archie being in front of the arch. As she pulled Douxie close to get the picture, she got an idea. She asked him if they could get just one more. He was holding the phone since his arms were longer so he was able to get better angles with them both in it. He agreed, happy to do anything to keep that grin on her face longer. This time, when he leaned down to make their faces closer together, Y/n gave him a kiss on the cheek. The shutter snapped. Look, she wasn’t going to push, but she could nudge. Y/n pulled away and grabbed the phone to look at how it turned out, so cute, and Douxie just stayed there, leaning over, still as a statue, with wide eyes.

“Did you just- k-kiss me?” He didn’t so ecstatic. Maybe she was reading him wrong after all. Okay, time to deny.

“Yeah, it was just a cheek kiss, Doux. It was a cute pose for our picture, see,” She showed him the picture. A perfectly captured moment where they looked so happy. Where her lips would forever be on his still burning face. “Friends do it all the time.”

“Oh. Ah, okay.” That sounded disappointed, and his face wasn’t the picture of joy before, but now he just looked crestfallen. Okay so she wasn’t reading him wrong before. Good to know. She’d,, have to fix this now. She casually grabbed his hand and laced their fingers. That got him looking back up from the ground.

“C’mon, we’ve got about ten minutes to catch the next bus.”

~ ~ ~

Effingham was a quaint place. Y/n had only chosen it for it’s funny name, but it was surprisingly pretty okay. It was home to the world’s largest cross. Which would be cool, for it’s target audience, Y/n supposed. And they had a train depot. Fun. And exactly one singular popular restaurant. Which wasn’t that much more than Arcadia had, Y/n had to give it to them. They were in this tiny little mall, to see about finding some spare clothes. Y/n stopped dead in her tracks to gawk at a store that’s sign identified itself as Rural King. She tugged Douxie’s hand.

“Oh we gotta go in there.”

Douxie took one look at it and shook his head, “Are you really going to drag us into a hunting store just because it has a silly name?”

“No, I guess not,” Y/n took one last look at the place, “Can I at least get a pic of you posing in front of it?”

“Fine.” Douxie suppressed a grin as he complied with her silly request.

Once they got into a real store though, Douxie leaned over to Y/n to tell her something without the clerk hearing. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I’ve got an appearance modifier spell I’ve perfected over the years. We’re not actually here to buy anything, just get some inspiration.”

Y/n nodded, fascinated. Well, that’ll take care of the extra spending problems. Now came the fun part, finding a new look for Nari. Speaking of whom, she was over at a rack, trying on those fake fashion glasses without real lenses in them. She looked really cute in every pair she tried on, and they helped obscure her face. Good. She really took a liking to this square tortoiseshell pair. Y/n took a mental note. It was going to be getting cold soon, and plants tend to freeze in the cold, so they took the veggie lady over to go check out the winter coats. Nari picked out a puffer that looked pretty comfy, but she didn’t like that it was red. It reminded her of Bellroc. Douxie assured her that the one he’d make could be any color she liked. Not surprisingly, she wanted it to be green.

Y/n just decided on a simple outfit for herself, consisting of a black and white striped long-sleeved tee, a black short sleeve tee to layer over that, and a classic pair of jeans. It was easy, comfortable, and didn’t draw much attention. A band kid staple too. Nari wanted to be similar to Y/n and also decided on a striped tee and jeans to go under her coat. Now they just needed to find her something to contain that gorgeous head of grass. Y/n glanced over to see Douxie trying on a cap in the hat section. Perfect. They’d make her a hat. It’d be a big hat, but nothing too much.

Douxie actually did buy a couple of backpacks from the shop. Y/n was a bit confused but he told her how for some reason he couldn’t enchant something that was technically an illusion itself so he had to buy physical bags since he wanted to enchant them to be infinite vessels or something. Y/n nodded. This was interesting. She was pretty good at the magic she did know but it was mostly by instinct. No one had really taught her the technical side of it like this. She never really knew how stuff worked, just that it worked. They headed to the dollar store after finishing up with the clothing, which surprisingly, this little mall had in it for some reason. They quickly found all those necessity items they needed and got out of there fast. They were burning daylight after all.

Once back at the boat, greeted by Archie who was glad they came back within a decent time this go around, Douxie got to work. First, he enchanted those backpacks. Y/n watched his every move, fascinated, and taking mental notes. He stuffed the supplies into the bags, making sure each had emergency food and medicine just in case they’d ever get separated. The first aid kits were a great idea, considering he didn’t know much healing magic himself and Y/n could only do a temporary pain relief spell. Having stuff to bandage up wounds in their bags made Douxie feel slightly better.

Y/n filled Douxie in on the specifics of Nari chosen disguise, and he set to work on that. It came out pretty cute. Nari liked her new duds, taking her time to look over herself. Y/n handed the veggie lady her phone with the front facing camera on so Nari could use it as a mirror. She really liked that. Y/n snickered at Nari trying out different angles.

He moved onto Y/n. He didn’t magically fairy godmother her like he did the forest child, he just made her a spare set of clothes to go in that backpack. He made them according to her request, but paused at the tee shirt. “Do you want me to put a logo or something on this?”

Y/n twirled her hair around her finger. “Hmm. I’m thinking, Ash Dispersal Pattern. They’re my favourite band, ever heard of them?”

Douxie laughed as conjured up the tee. He picked one of his favourite designs from past merch. It could be considered vintage now, but it wasn’t that long ago to Doux. He fancied the idea of getting to see her in his merch a lot more now. She did have one of their tee shirts back in the bookstore, but she didn’t wear it often as it was in rotation with other band’s tees. He didn’t have competition anymore, it seems. He grinned as finished up.

“Anything else?”

“Yes, actually. Now that I know you can just magic up clothes for yourself, I would like your hoodie.”

“I can make you a hoodie like thi-“

“No, no, I want the one you’re wearing, thank you. It’s warm and familiar and it smells like you.” She said half-joking, half-serious. “It would make me feel safer.”

Douxie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In fact some part of him thought he may have just daydreamed that. He wordlessly forked over the hoodie. She took it merrily and put it on, giving it a sniff for good measure. Now he really was daydreaming.

“Thank you, Dewdrop!” Oh, he had a pet name now. He’d hadn’t heard that one yet. Frisky people had called him all sorts of strange and embarrassing things over the centuries. But this one was a first. He guessed it was a play on his name. Dewdrop, ay? That was so soft and sweet. A shiny little dewdrop, the first thing you see in the morning. Ah. It seems that miss L/n was plotting to kill him. She was succeeding.

ATLA, LOK and Aang as a Dad- a parent’s perspective.

I’ve been seeing some comments about how LOK did a disservice to Aang in how it portrayed his parenting- or more accuartely, how his children remembered his parenting. It makes me sad that people don't seem to realize that the show wasn't saying he played favorites. That was the perception of his children in a large part because of the time and attention given to (and arguably required for) nurturing the gifts and talents of the very rare air-benders. 

Shockingly, children's perception of their parents are not always accurate. I have no doubt that Aang adored all of his children- but they were three very different personalities, with very different needs, different learning styles, different talents, different goals and dreams and fears and flaws. Aang was the Avatar, but he was also an imperfect human just like anyone else. There are going to be people that make more or less sense to him. There are going to be people that he finds it easier to teach, to understand, to support, and to nurture. 

Most parents of multiple kids find that they resonate differently with them. It's not about loving one more than the others, it's simply that children are not cookie cutters. Each parent-child relationship is unique. It's sad and poignant that they were unable to deal with the hurt they carried from their childhood with their father before they lost him, but that is how life works sometimes. 

I have 3 kids- 2 are a lot like me, and their brains make sense to me. I know how to reach them and we share interests. The other child is not much like me at all, and we don't hang out as much, but I love them every bit as fiercely as their siblings. They amaze me and surprise me all the time and I am beyond proud of them. Kids need a wide range of things from us as they grow up. Sometimes, those needs conflict and parents end up having to prioritize one child's needs temporarily for reasons that don't make sense to the kids and just hope that it all balances out in the long run. 

Aang and Katara clearly loved their children. We see the legacy of that love in how they treat their own loved ones. Sometimes, sadly, love doesn't translate very well through disparate love languages. "Easy" children can feel ignored and forgotten compared to louder, more demanding siblings. "Challenging" children can feel like their parents see them as too much work. Shy kids of outgoing parents can feel like they get lost in the shuffle. Outgoing children of shy parents can feel isolated and lonely. Athletic children of artistic parents and artistic children of athletic parents can feel like they aren't understood or appreciated. 

Beyond that, people experience shared interactions differently, so a passing comment made my a tired or stressed out parent might cut much deeper than they ever know. A human mistake like a broken promise or not being able to afford something the child wants can stick with a kid. 

Parents (even Aang) are just people. 

No one can be all things to all people. No one is perfect. We change and grow and learn. We screw up and fall short and overreact. It happens... and it has almost nothing to do with how much we love our kids. We can be great parents 90% of the time and still our children will remember the 10% of the time that we weren't what they needed.

I don’t think it is all that surprising that Bumi and Kya feel like Tenzin got more attention. Tenzin was the baby of the family and it is a common refrain of older siblings that the baby of the family got more attention, fewer punishments, and generally treated differently. A big part of the reason that is such a frequent complaint is that parents learn. Parenting has a steep learning curve, and the big screw-ups carry the potential to have huge consequences. Over and above the fact that we tend to get better at something the longer we’ve been doing it (like caring for children), our life situations change over time. For example- my eldest sometimes complained that my younger children have a more constant/stable home and get more attention than he did at the same age. This is because when he was that age I was still in the workforce and we were still renting apartments with roommates, and since then we’ve settled into a family home and I no longer work outside the home. Those external changes allowed for major shifts in how I parent. Kya’s comment to Tenzin that he was the only one who travelled with Aang in response to his fond memories of ‘vacationing’ with their father is no doubt true, but doesn’t automatically prove favoritism. Bumi appears to be about a decade older than Tenzin. By the time Tenzin was old enough to be forming those memories, Bumi and Kya very likely had busy, bustling lives that would be disrupted if they travelled with Aang. Friends, schooling, hobbies... roots. Some children don’t travel well. Additionally, the world very likely needed different things from the Avatar when he started his family than it did over a decade later.

And, let’s not forget that Aang was literally the only person who could teach Tenzin how to access and hone his air-bending. When faced with the conflict of being needed in another part of the world but also needing to be available and present to train his air-bending son “bring the kid along” is the only real solution- but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t feel like he was choosing one kid over the other to the children, themselves. Even if they understood on a logical level, the hurt and resentment could still linger.

Legend of Korra could be (and likely is) very accurately portraying how Aang's children remember him without that meaning that Aang was a bad father or that he played favorites, because there was an entire lifetime that happened, and the things that hurt are the things they need to heal from. His children are not going to remember every single time that nothing bad happened to them, because those periods are normal and boring.

They were raised by parents who had gone through a lot of traumatic stuff at a very young age and who were always under extreme pressure and scrutiny. They grew up in a world that was recovering from war, genocide, and oppression, and was reforging itself into something new and better. They were surrounded by people who idolized their parents and saw them as larger than life. Whether the kids were aware of it or not, they also grew up in a world where they were at risk of being targetted because of who their parents were. That risk likely factored into many of the decisions Aang and Katara made about who went where when. (IE- keeping one child safe during travels is a lot easier than keeping three of them safe. Taking care of two children while your spouse is travelling is easier than juggling the needs of three of them.) All things considered, if the worst parental baggage Bumi and Kya carry with them decades later is that the two of them feel like their father loved them but he loved the child with talents that tied him to his own childhood, his own culture, and every loved one he had before they were massacred a little bit more then I think Aang probably did an exemplary job as a father.

Golden Rings 1: A Town

Cursed Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Mrs. Gold goes shopping

Read on AO3

The people of Storybrooke, Maine lived in fear of the day before rent day. 

Rent day itself was bad enough, of course. There was one landlord in town and the only thing worse than giving him all of your money was not having any money to give him. Contrary to popular rumor, Mr. Gold did not personally break the kneecaps of tenants who turned up short on the fourth Sunday of the month. No, what he did was much worse. 

Mr. Gold was always the first to assure frantic tenants that he was a reasonable man. With a smile that never reached his eyes, he would promise that everything would get sorted out. He would never turn someone out on the streets for a first offense. He was always willing to make accommodations. For a price. 

Late fees were the first recourse of the desperate. Mr. Gold was happy to waive rent for weeks at a time. If you were a little short in June, he could easily collect June’s rent in July--along with fees that totalled up to almost double the original debt. And July’s rent was due as well, wasn’t it? To be sure, this was a steep price, but it was better than losing your home. Wasn’t it?

If you had something you could offer up as collateral, he might be willing to give you a small personal loan to cover the rent. Then the late fees and missed payments were added directly to the principal of the loan. But Mr. Gold understood if someone was struggling and could only pay the interest. Interest that accrued daily and compounded weekly.

You didn’t have to rent from him to be desperate enough to borrow from him. More than one unlucky soul in Storybrooke had arranged for a loan of a thousand dollars--to be paid off at one hundred dollars a month for one year--only to still be making payments of a hundred dollars a month long after the originally planned payoff date. 

Anyone who wanted to try to break the cycle, or who were among the unlucky few who Mr. Gold no longer saw as a good investment, was more than welcome to offer up their valuables to pawn. After all the stock for Mr. Gold’s Pawn Shop and Antiquities had to come from somewhere.

But Mr. Gold was never interested in the objects that people wanted to sell. A television set or stereo was worthless in an antique shop. Diamond rings from broken engagements got less than a tenth of what they had been sold for at the jeweler’s. Designer fashions or collector’s items would all be turned away. It was Mr. Gold’s shop, and he had the final say on what inventory he took in. 

Instead, the pawnbroker had an uncanny eye for the possessions that owners would rather not part with. He liked to buy heirlooms, the more personal the better. If an inkwell had been at your grandfather’s desk since you were a child, or if your mother wore a bead necklace to every wedding she ever went to because she said it was good luck... Well, that was exactly the sort of thing that Mr. Gold would pay to take off your hands. 

He had an entire display case of items that were monogrammed--silver hairbrushes and hand-embroidered handkerchiefs and bronzed baby shoes. He would pay extra for a picture frame if it had an old family photograph inside. The shop was full of mementos and trinkets that really only had sentimental value. 

Mr. Gold took from everyone, but he would only pay cash for an object that came with a piece of your heart. 

When you had nothing left that he wanted to buy, that was when you were in real trouble. You could tell because Mr. Gold kept smiling, his gold tooth glinting as his hands tightened around his cane. He would keep things businesslike. Mr. Gold wasn’t the sort of man who shouted at people in public. No, he kept calm, almost genial, as he suggested that maybe you and he could work out some kind of deal.

A favor, he would call it. What was a favor between friends? And you were friends, weren’t you? Didn’t you want to stay on friendly terms with Mr. Gold? You wouldn’t want the situation to get unfriendly, would you?

Faced with that situation, people would promise him anything--property, services, information. Worst of all was when he wouldn’t say what he wanted right away. But you knew that you were in his debt. Even if your financial obligation was cleared, you owed something to Mr. Gold. And sooner or later, he was going to take what he wanted. 

But before he did, he would send her to pay you a visit. The day before rent day was when she was on the prowl. Mr. Gold’s wife was an omen to the people of Storybrooke, a dreaded apparition whose presence foretold desolation. She was her husband’s creature and she did his bidding without question. 

****

It was a rare day when Marco Benigni was grateful that he had never had children. He and his sweet Nicoletta had tried for more than thirty years of marriage, but they had never been given that miracle.

When they had been young and full of hope, the couple had dreamed of a big family. Marco had wanted to see a face in every window waiting for him when he came home from work. As they grew older, their dreams grew smaller. If they couldn’t have a dozen children, maybe five would do. Or maybe only three. Or even one. And by the time they had realized that it wasn’t to be and had started talking about adoption or fostering, Nicoletta was already sick. Then all of Marco’s dreams and prayers and wishes went to her. 

All these years later, he wished for a child more than ever. Their little house had always felt like it was missing something. Now that Nicoletta was gone, the place was as empty and quiet as a graveyard. 

For as long as he could remember, Marco had carved toys and figurines from scrap lumber. He had always planned to give them to his children. Over the years he had made enough to fill the second bedroom, what was always going to be the baby’s room. Even now, he still carved in his spare time. He kept hoping for a miracle, for some chance to be a father. The toys gathered dust while he waited for a child to magically appear and help him be less lonely.

But when Mrs. Gold walked down the street, Marco remembered that the world wasn’t always a good place for children.

It was the fourth Saturday in October. Marco was on his first job of the day. He was the best handyman in town--an easy claim to make, because he was the only professional handyman in Storybrooke. Most of his days started with a trip to Storybrooke Hardware and Paint. He would take a free styrofoam cup of coffee and pick up supplies for the day and see if anyone had posted on the bulletin board for a job that needed doing.

More mornings than not, his first job was at the hardware store itself. The owner of the place, Dotty Compton, was a sweet young lady with hair the color of straw and a tendency to snort when she laughed. She kept a good shop, but she had no idea how to actually use the tools and materials she sold. Every day something broke, and every day she asked Marco to fix it for her. With a tip of his hat, he obliged. 

It made him feel like a gentleman, to help a lady in distress. He didn’t want Dotty to be embarrassed if her sisters showed up. Both of them were more handy than she was--the sort of people who would build their own houses if they had the money. Either one might stop by and point out something that they could easily fix but Dotty didn’t know how to. So Marco quietly covered for her and kept the hardware store in the best shape he could.

On that particular Saturday morning, he was fixing the outside sign. Last night’s rainstorm had knocked the plastic cover down away from the lights. One of the flickering bulbs would need to be changed soon. When Dotty asked, Marco would have to take the cover off again to put in a new fluorescent light. He could change it now, but maybe Dotty wouldn’t want to sell herself a lightbulb just yet. The lights would do well enough flickering for a few more weeks, and it wouldn’t do him any harm to get back on the ladder again come November.

Marco’s thoughts were interrupted by the clacking of high heeled shoes on the brick sidewalk. He looked down from the ladder and cursed in Italian. It was her. The reason he could be glad that he never had children. He had to believe that children would be better off unborn than to be brought into a world where women like Mrs. Gold walked the streets. 

She was coming from the pawn shop. It was barely ten in the morning but Mrs. Gold was tarted up like she was headed for a night on the town. She had her hair up and makeup on. Necklaces and bracelets and earrings sparkled in the morning light. That green skirt barely covered her bottom and what kind of lunatic wore a blouse with no sleeves in October in Maine? But that was how Mrs. Gold always paraded herself around Storybrooke on the day before rent day.

 Across the street, Dr. Whale was walking out of Storybrooke Coffee. Marco watched the doctor stop dead in his tracks to stare at Mrs. Gold. He even tilted his head to get a better look at her bare legs as she walked away.

With a huff, Marco slammed the sign to the hardware store back into place. The noise was enough to break Dr. Whale’s attention from Mrs. Gold. Startled, the young man went on his way in the opposite direction. He had a coffee in hand and a spring in his step.

“Yeah, go on to the hospital,” Marco muttered. “Go save lives and keep your eyes in your head!”

What if he had had a son like that doctor? And it wasn’t just Whale. Half the men in town gawked at Mrs. Gold every time she went streetwalking. How could he and Nicoletta have brought up a nice boy in a world so full of temptation? Women like Mrs. Gold were breathing advertisements for the lowest kind of living.  

Marco must have wished on the right star last night, because Mrs. Gold walked right past him. She usually left people alone if they were regular with their rent payments. Marco kept his cash in a little wooden box he had made himself. Over the years, he had scraped up enough together to make sure he always had a full month’s rent in reserve. Keeping his head above water with Mr. Gold was Marco’s top priority. He slept easier at night knowing that his landlord and that woman had no reason to bother him.

Climbing down the ladder, Marco gave another look down the street to Mrs. Gold. She flounced by the flower shop with her nose in the air. He shook his head. What must it be like to have a daughter like that? How easy would he sleep if he knew that his little girl was married to a man as ruthless as Mr. Gold?

Sometimes he saw her in the hardware store. Usually she lingered by the big spools of rope and chains. Marco had noticed Mrs. Gold rubbing a length of nylon rope between her fingers or wrapping the natural hemp around her wrist. She tested the weight of a brass-plated steel chain like she was picking out a tomato for supper.  

Once, he had seen her in the paint aisle. She wasn’t looking at colors, but had taken a wooden paint stirrer and was slowly slapping it against the palm of her hand. Mrs. Gold’s expression had been thoughtful, almost dreamy. She had walked away like she was floating on air. Along the hem of her short skirt, Marco had seen a rectangular pink mark on the back of her thigh. He couldn’t say for sure, but might have been a welt.

He shook his head and brought the ladder back inside to Dotty. Marco wasn’t that much older than Mr. Gold, and that girl was young enough to be his daughter or even his granddaughter.

But Mr. Gold was the richest man in Storybrooke. That woman strutted around town like she owned the place because she did, through marriage. Mr. Gold made everybody pay for everything. What did his wife have to go through in order to be worth what he gave her?

****

Tom Clark sneezed when Mrs. Gold walked into Dark Star Pharmacy. 

There probably wasn’t a connection between the two events. Hay fever season had run long this year and now they were bumping into flu season. Ragweed was still in bloom all over town. And the rain last night was probably exacerbating the mold that he knew was somewhere in this drafty, damp old building that he was paying a fortune to rent because of its “character” and “charm.” After working in this place for as long as he could remember, Tom was pretty sure those were just code words for “dust” and “termites.” There was probably asbestos too, so he would have mesothelioma to look forward to when he retired--if he ever made enough money to retire. 

  He sneezed again. Then he heard Mrs. Gold’s tinkling laughter from the magazine rack by the front door. 

“Well, Mr. Clark!” Mrs. Gold’s voice was always high and bubbly. Just listening to the sound, you could never tell if she was a genuine airhead or if she was pretending to be a porn star. You had to listen to the words to know for sure. “You know, I read somewhere that men sneeze every time they have a dirty thought. Have you heard that?”

Mrs. Gold was on the other side of the store, but she fixed Tom with a direct stare that nailed him to the ground. His mouth hung open. He knew she wouldn’t stop staring at him until he answered her.

“I-I-I dunno,” he said as limply as he could. 

Then she came toward him, white legs in high heels striding forward in what could only be described as a stripper strut. Mrs. Gold was not a tall woman--how the hell were her legs so long? 

Elbows on the counter, Mrs. Gold put a finger up to her berry-red lips. Tom had never seen her wearing less than three rings and today was no exception.

 “Do you think that’s why all the boys I knew in high school had a box of tissues by their bed? There were always piles of wadded-up tissues all over their rooms. And lotion! It was really useful for me since I have such dry skin, and the boys were always so helpful about wanting to rub me down.”

She giggled after that, and it made her breasts bounce against her tight, almost sheer shirt. Tom was suddenly reminded of the bottle of lotion in his bedside table. Oh boy...

He pulled out his hanky and sneezed. It was a thick, mucusy gob that made his eyes water. He shoved the hanky back into his pocket and made a few subtle adjustments to his pants while he was at it. Then he pumped a quick squirt of hand sanitizer from the container he kept by the register. 

“Can I help you, Mrs. Gold?” he asked as he rubbed his fingers over his palms in a cleanliness ritual that was practically muscle memory.

She giggled again, as if he had even attempted to make a joke. A strand of her curly brown hair had escaped from her bun and she twirled it around one finger.  

“Mr. Gold told me he called in my birth control prescription for a refill.”

Oh thank God. Now Tom had a reason to walk away, even for just a minute

“I’ll go check in the back,” he said. “It, uh, might be a sec. Feel free to look around, see if there’s anything you want.”

“I always am.” She winked at him and pushed away from the counter. Her hips swung back and forth as she walked around the store. Tom stared at her. Mrs. Gold was wearing a very short, very tight, very shiny green skirt. 

Mentally shaking himself and physically taking as many deep breaths as he could through his congested nose, Tom went behind the shelves of pill bottles to try to get his shit together. 

 “Okay, Tommy-boy, calm down.” He rubbed his face and then sneezed into his elbow. He had to think of unsexy things. Things like nuns. Or gonorrhea. Or Mr. Gold if he ever found out that Tom had even looked at his wife.

Mr. Gold if he ever found out that Tom was short on the rent.

“Crap,” he said to himself. It was the day before rent day. He did have enough on hand to cover it, didn’t he? Mr. Gold only accepted cash. If there wasn’t enough in the register or the safe, Tom would have to get to the bank before it closed at noon. Crap.

The prescription bag for Mrs. Gold was already prepped and waiting. Grabbing it, Tom went back to the front of the store. He opened up the register and started counting out bills.

“Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, three. Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, four. Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty…” Before he could continue the count to five hundred dollars, Tom’s concentration suddenly drifted away. 

Mrs. Gold was still in the store. Mrs. Gold was in the aisle directly in front of the cash register. Mrs. Gold was bent at the waist in a perfect ninety-degree angle to get a good look at the lower shelves. Mrs. Gold’s skirt was very tight. Mrs. Gold’s skirt was slowly creeping up the beautiful round curve of Mrs. Gold’s ass.

Tom sneezed. He looked down at the cash in his hand. What was he counting? How much money did he have? He had the same amount for rent every month, but right now he was damned if he could remember what that amount was. Crap.

“I’ve got your script here!” His voice cracked on the last word. Christ, he sounded like a horny teenager. Well, that was half-accurate. 

“That was quick!” Mrs. Gold bounced over to him, her purchases clutched to her chest. She let the items spill out onto the countertop.

Tom fought his reflex to sneeze again. He really should be used to this by now. Mrs. Gold had played some variation of this game every month for as long as he could remember. 

But it never stopped amazing him how she could make innocuous purchases seem so dirty. The counter was covered with one box of every type of condom--every brand, every style, every size. 

In Tom’s experience, most men found a prophylactic that was comfortable for them and stuck with it. So who were all these different sizes for? How many different men did she need to provide condoms to? Had she picked out his brand along with all the others? 

There was also a box of latex gloves, a roll of duct tape, and the largest bottle of KY jelly they had in stock. 

“Would you hold these here while I run and get something else?” Mrs. Gold didn’t wait for his answer, but shimmied off to another aisle. A moment later, she ran back and--Jesus Christ, was she even wearing a bra? 

She put down that month’s copy of Cosmo and a bottle of lotion. Tom didn’t look at her. He just rang up all the paraphernalia in silence. Some obscure sense of decency made him put everything in a paper bag instead of plastic--no one would be able to see the lurid contents unless Mrs. Gold took them out and showed them to people. 

He wouldn’t have put it past her. 

“D-Do you have any questions about your prescription?”

“I do, actually!”

 She leaned over the counter, arms crossed under her chest so they pushed up her cleavage. Her voice changed to a low whisper and Tom had to move closer to hear her. All of a sudden Mrs. Gold gave a crap about privacy. “This birth control, is it affected by how often it’s called upon to be used?”

Tom opened his mouth but couldn’t talk for a second. “I-I’m not sure what you mean, Mrs. Gold.”

“Well…” She was halfway over the counter now, probably standing on her tiptoes. She could reach out and touch him if her arms weren’t jammed underneath her boobs. “The thing is… Mr. Gold really doesn’t want me to get pregnant. And he told me to ensure that nothing allows that to happen. And I know I have to take the pill every day, but what if I have intercourse more often than that? Will the dosage have to change based on how many times a day there’s sperm in my vagina?”

Tom sneezed so hard it gave him a headache. He turned away from Mrs. Gold to blow his nose.

Goddammit, he was a medical professional! Mrs. Gold was using legitimate technical language! He had gone through eight years of pharmacy school! He could have a conversation with his patient about her medication without breaking into a cold sweat over what his landlord’s wife did in her bedroom!

Tom’s mouth started spouting facts on autopilot. It was a self-defense method to keep his mind away from… any of that. 

“Yeah, no, this type of birth control is ninety-one percent effective if you’re taking it every day. So nine out of a hundred people taking it can get pregnant. Medically speaking, those are amazing odds. But if you’re worried about that nine percent chance, you should definitely use another form of contraception.” 

With a weak smile, Tom handed Mrs. Gold her bag of condoms. “It does look like you’re stocked up for a little while, though.”

For the first time since she walked through the door, Mrs. Gold’s smile disappeared. Stone-faced, she pulled her wallet out of her purse and slammed three fifty-dollar bills onto the counter. 

“Mr. Gold  isn’t going to waste a rubber on me.” She spoke like the fact was so obvious that Tom was insulting her by making her say the words. Bag in hand, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the store. She left one sentence in her wake: “Keep the change!”

****

Ruby Lucas had been watching Mrs. Gold all day from the big front windows of Granny’s Dinner. 

Ever since that woman first walked past them after the worst of the breakfast rush, it had been a terrible day. Ruby had messed up lunch orders, fumbled with trays of dishes and added up totals completely wrong. Granny had yelled at her but there was nothing special about that. Ruby had yelled right back. She was too on edge to play nice or to do her job right. She couldn’t think about anything but Mrs. Gold and the fact that the rent was due tomorrow.

No one knew how Mrs. Gold knew who had their rent money and who didn’t. Some people suggested a network of spies or hidden security cameras in all of the property Mr. Gold owned. Others attributed it to occult powers. Dr. Hopper said she was just good at reading people. In a town like Storybrooke, it wasn’t a bad bet to assume that any random person owed Mr. Gold money. For her part, Ruby was more than willing to believe that Mrs. Gold had some kind of sixth sense, that she could sniff out fear like a dog. 

If Mrs. Gold could smell fear, then Ruby probably reeked.

It was three in the afternoon. The lunch rush was over and dinner hadn’t started yet. Leroy Miner was the only person in the diner. He had come in for “breakfast” an hour ago and would be nursing a cup of coffee until he decided it was time to go over to the Rabbit Hole. The cook, Tony, was either in the kitchen or taking a break in the alley behind the diner. Granny was in the back office, wrestling with their accounting software and going over the books for the week. Ruby wiped down the counter for the third time in ten minutes. Cleaning up was mindless work and she could do it while still keeping a lookout on the street. 

“She’s already been past here, hasn’t she?” Leroy had lived in Storybrooke long enough to know what was going on without having to be told.

“Four times,” Ruby said. She grabbed a stack of napkins and started ramming them into a dispenser on every table in the diner. “She keeps going back and forth, up and down the street. Circling the town like a freaking shark. She’s just trying to scare people!”

“Guess it’s working,” Leroy muttered into his mug. 

“I wish she’d go home,” Ruby hugged her arms over her chest and looked out the window again. “Or I wish she’d just come in here and rip out my soul and get it over with!”

“Flip the sign and say you’re closed,” Leroy suggested. “I wouldn’t mind sitting in the dark until she goes away.”

Ruby shook her head. “Dinner rush’ll be starting soon. Granny would kill me if I turned away customers. And besides, it’s not like ignoring Mrs. Gold does any good in the long run. Rent will still be due tomorrow.”

She went away from the window and back to the coffee pot to get Leroy a refill. He nodded his thanks. 

“Would it do any good if I gave you a fifteen dollar tip on a five dollar meal?”

Ruby almost cried. She had spent enough time around Leroy Miner to get to know his moods. At that moment, he was in the sweet spot between the end of his hangover and the start of his drinking. Those were the times when he would offer to do anything for anybody--before he realized that the best he could do was never enough so he might as well reach for a bottle. 

What might happen to Leroy if he ever found somebody he could help? He was a hard worker, when he was sober, and if he found something that he thought was worth working hard at. With the right people around him, Leroy could be a part of something good. Maybe. Someday.

Ruby gave him the best smile she could manage. “A nice tip never hurts.”

He slid a twenty across the counter and pulled on his hat. “Good luck,” he said. “Maybe she won’t come in after all.”

No sooner had he said that than the bell over the front door chimed with the entrance of a new customer. Neither of them looked up, but they both heard the confident stride of very high heels. The retail price of those shoes was more than Ruby had paid for her car.

“Thanks Leroy,” Ruby said. “But I don’t think I’ve got much luck today.”

“Who’s getting lucky?” 

Mrs. Gold carried a bunch of shopping bags in both hands. She’d been all over today. She set the bags on the floor in the middle of the diner, right in front of the door. Leroy edged around them sulkily, trying his very best not to attract any attention.

That did not work.

“Hi, Mr. Miner!”

Gulping, Leroy nodded and looked down at his work boots. “Mrs. Gold,” he mumbled, before barreling out the door. Lucky jerk. 

Ruby would have run out the diner, down the street, into the harbor and off into international waters if she could have, but that wasn’t an option right now. 

“Can I get you a menu, Mrs. Gold?” 

After years as a waitress, Ruby could respect the art of a fake smile, and Mrs. Gold could put a Barbie doll to shame. There was never a hint of what was going on beneath the surface--or even that there was something more than met the eye. The woman was all glitter, from her jewelry to her clothes to her eyeshadow. When she wanted to put on a show, Mrs. Gold could sparkle like polished glass. 

She sparkled now, smiling with white teeth and lipstick that cost as much as an average Storybrooke citizen’s water bill. Ruby had seen an ad for that brand in a copy of Vogue. The gold vials were sold in lacquered jewelry boxes with a velvet ribbon so you could wear them like a necklace. Mrs. Gold kept hers on the outside of her purse. As far as Ruby could tell, the woman had several vials for each shade she liked, and she switched out black or gold or smooth or scaled to coordinate with the rest of her jewelry. The outside changed, but the inside was always the same.  

“No menu for me, Ruby. I just came in to see what was on display.” Her gaze swept over Ruby’s bare midriff and short skirt for just long enough to show that it was intentional. But then she shifted over to the glass case by the counter.

“Oh,” Ruby said. “You want something from the bakery?”

Mrs. Gold smirked. “Let’s just say Mr. Gold told me to bring him home something sweet.” One finger trailed across the front of the glass, smudging it. Mrs. Gold’s eyes stayed fixed on Ruby. Her pink tongue slid over her berry lips.

Mouth dry and stomach churning, Ruby didn’t trust herself to talk. This was it. This was what she had been dreading for as long as she could remember.  

With her legs apart, Mrs. Gold bent at the waist to look at the pies and pastries for sale. Ruby stood behind the case, ready to pull out whatever Mrs. Gold asked for. A family came into the diner--both the parents and the daughter stepping around Mrs. Gold’s bags as they made their way through the door. Ruby told them to take a seat and she would be right with them. For now, she knew she wasn’t allowed to move. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Gold had her butt sticking up so much that Ruby could see it over her shoulders. Suddenly, her head popped up and her stray hairs swept back away from her face like she had just come up for air after giving a blowjob.

“What have you got with cherries?” she asked. “Mr. Gold has been craving something red.”

Ruby went red. That was her color. It was the color of her hair dye, and her accessories, and her car, and her goddamned name!

“I-I-I I think we’re sold out of cherry pie.” She tried to keep her voice steady. “W-we’ve got apple?”

“No,” Mrs. Gold said flatly. “Mr. Gold and I are not apple people.” She put her hand on her neck and toyed with one of her necklaces. She considered the baked goods some more. “What about cream? Mr. Gold enjoys a bit of whipped cream every now and again. Have you got anything like that?”

“A cream pie?” Ruby winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

Mrs. Gold lit up like a kid at Christmas. She smacked her hands against the bakery case and pressed her boobs against the glass in her excitement. “Exactly! Is that something you could offer us?”

“Uh…” 

She was going to throw up. She was going to vomit all over her landlord’s wife and the dry cleaning bill for those designer clothes would be added to the rent and they would never have the money to pay it back and they would lose the diner and the bed and breakfast and Ruby and Granny would be homeless and jobless and she’d have to turn tricks on the street just to keep them from starving!

Icy blue eyes stared at Ruby. They looked even brighter for being outlined in black eyeliner and three layers of mascara.

 “Think it over, honey,” Mrs. Gold purred. “Tomorrow evening, Mr. Gold will be stopping by for the rent. Let him know if you have anything you want to… offer. Anything sweet and red that he and I could share. Okay?”

Mutely, Ruby nodded.

With a final dazzling smile, Mrs. Gold picked up her bags and strutted out the diner door into the fall twilight. She didn’t even buy anything.

Still unable to speak, Ruby grabbed a handful of menus and tossed them to the family in the booth. She left the restaurant unattended and raced back to Granny’s office. 

“Tell me we have money for rent this month!”

“What?” Pulling off her reading glasses, Granny looked up from the flickering beige computer. She still had both index fingers pointed out from typing. “Why in the hell do we need the rent already?”

“Because rent day is tomorrow!” Ruby’s hands gripped onto either side of the wooden door frame. She had to keep herself from throttling her grandmother. “Are you saying you don’t have it?”

“What are you talking about?” Granny looked at the calendar on the wall. “Rent’s due on the last Sunday of the month.”

“No.” Ruby did not scream. She did not wail or cry or howl in despair. She kept her voice very calm. “No, Granny. It’s the fourth Sunday of the month. This month has five Sundays. So the rent is due tomorrow. Mrs. Gold was just here.”

Granny went pale and put her hand over her heart. “Oh no,” she said softly.

“Yeah!” Ruby squeaked. “Yeah, I guess she stopped by for a reason!” Weak, hysterical giggles bubbled out of her. They would turn into sobs if she didn’t get her shit together. 

And Granny could only stare at her in powerless horror. 

“Yeah,” Ruby nodded, still laughing. “Why fight it anymore? There’s no escape from the Golds. Tomorrow is rent day. We don’t have anything. I’m going to be absolutely fucked!”

Survey #437

“you get what you pray for  /  you don’t get anything”

Do you tell your mom and dad everything? No. Who was the last person you talked about something that was bothering you with? Most likely my mom. What’s your favorite musical? I don't like musicals. Who did you last share a taxi with? I've never been in a taxi. If you’ve ever tried drugs or alcohol, what was your reason for first trying it? I've never done drugs, but the first time I drank was actually an accident. I'd come in from a long, hot walk, and I desperately needed water, and Mom offered me what I thought was just pink lemonade. Turns out it was a Mike's Hard Lemonade and I CHUGGED it before everyone around me was like "NOOOO!" because it was alcohol lmaooo. If you were far from home and needed to sleep for the night, would you choose to rent a crappy motel room for $60 or sleep in your car for free? I'm sleeping in my car. I'm afraid of things like bed bugs. Is there a situation where you caved into peer pressure and regretted it? I don't think so? Have you ever rolled off your bed in your sleep? Pretty sure no. What is your favourite planet? Saturn! Do you enjoy Mario games? Not really, honestly. They're just not my style. Mario Kart is fun every now and again, though. What flavor fruity drink is your favorite? Strawberry, in most cases. Ever done a keg stand? No. Who is the last person you lent money to? My mom. Do you have any health problems that are unusual for your age? I have carpal tunnel in my wrists from typing so much, but I'm not sure how "unusual" that is for young adults nowadays... I feel like there's something else, but it's evading me right now. Do you bite your nails? No, I pick/peel at them. :x What’s the longest nap you’ve ever taken? Oh god, hours. To the point it no longer really qualifies as a "nap." When people ask you about school, what is your usual response? Do you enjoy talking about school? Why or why not? I get all awkward and just reply that I gave it numerous shots, but my mental health couldn't handle it. I hate talking about school because I feel like a failure. Do you know how to fill a car’s tire with air? Have you ever had to do it? No to both. Do you like your best friend’s parents? Why or why not? Omg I LOVE them. They are spectacular people with massive hearts. I especially am drawn to her dad, whom I find incredibly inspiring. Both her parents are just great. I miss 'em. What do you like in your hot cocoa - marshmallows, whipped cream, candy canes? Do you even like hot cocoa? I loooove hot chocolate. I really just prefer it plain, but you can toss a few marshmallows in there. Which do you have a problem with: over-eating or under-eating? I'm way more likely to over-eat than under-eat. A girl likes her food lmao. The last boy you kissed, good-looking? He's by no means ugly, but I wasn't physically attracted to him personally. Do you love him? Not romantically, but definitely platonically. Do you like cherry Pepsi? I like cherry Coke. I don't like Pepsi. When was the last time you were given flowers? Ummm... I want to say the last time was many years ago when Tyler visited for the first time when we started dating. What do you want to name your children? I don't want kids. But hypothetically, Alessandra and probably Damien. Would you ever write a letter to someone you haven’t met yet, like your future spouse? No. I'd probably get too emotional anyway. Do you carry a mirror in your purse? No. Do you believe that there is beauty in everything? I've always thought this was such a stupid idea that tries to make reason out of life and its tragedies. Like yeah, cancer, rape, murder, etc. are definitely "beautiful." There is absolutely no beauty in a vast plethora of things. The first time you smoked, did you cough like a fool? I've never smoked before. When you were younger, did you have a Neopets account? Oh, yes. I loooooved Neopets, but not quite as much as Webkinz. I've actually remade a Neopetz account multiple times because I'd forget my info, ha ha... Who was the last person you got in a fist fight with? I've never been in a physical fight. Did you and your mom ever have a big fight that caused you to move out? Not "move out," no. We did, however, have a fight where I stayed with Dad for I want to say a week, maybe a bit less. Do you dislike anyone? Why? Well, yes. I don't know anyone who doesn't dislike somebody. There are a few people, in my case, that I'm not going to spend time going through and pointing out what I don't like. Do you think you will be in a relationship 2 months from now? No. Do you always feel like you’re making mistakes? Like constantly. Does your animal sleep with you? Roman usually does, yeah. Do you have any baby pictures of yourself on your computer? No. Mom has those in photo albums. What kind was the last chip you ate? I want to say traditional Lays? It was at my nephew's bday party. Do you eat onion rings? No, I'm not a fan. What was the last thing to disgust you? I think it was some thumbnail I saw on YouTube, even though it was (weakly) blurred. Where do you see your ex in 5 years? "The" ex, I don't want to think about it. Probably somewhere great for him, but would break my heart if I knew. Do your parents swear? Dad swears big time, while Mom tries to hold it back. You won't hear her say something like "fuck" unless she is SERIOUSLY upset. Do you ever drink warm milk? Warm milk sounds literally disgusting. Would you be really upset if Facebook ceased to exist tomorrow? No. I literally just came back from my break from it, so it'd be more funny than anything. The universe's way of telling me "nah, son." Who do you know that wears the most makeup? My friend Summer, but then again she's a cosmetologist. Have you ever had bronchitis? No, thankfully. Jason had it BAD once and I will neeever forget that cough, good Lord. Do you like to wear makeup? I hate applying it more than anything. Like, I love that it can help me feel prettier, but I pretty much never wear it because it's just a pain to put on, especially by myself because I have bad tremors in my hands. How many times have you been to the ER? Way too many times for being suicidal. How often do you feel lonely? Honestly, pretty much always. When are you most uncomfortable? I dunno, man. I'm always uncomfortable about one thing or another. Has anyone ever revealed a secret about you? Not that I remember... Have you ever revealed anyone else’s secret? No, that is such a shitty thing to do. Have you ever had a family member/friend that was hospitalized? Yes. Have you ever been in trouble with the law? No. Is there anything you want to experiment with? I mean, nothing that quickly comes to mind. There are things I want to try, but nothing major. What do you hope happens to you after you die? Mixed feelings. Sometimes I hope there's some sort of nirvana-like state we experience, I think it'd be wonderful to be reunited with loved ones, but I also sometimes think it'd be best if we just... stopped existing. Consciousness just stops. I dunno. I'll find out eventually. What is the most disgusting thing you have seen in person (not on TV)? Probably a maggot-infested deer corpse that I faintly remember from where I used to live. I thought it was the sickest thing ever lmao, in both senses. What is something others make fun of you for? Always holding some sort of technology. Just don't fucking comment on it. It makes me self-conscious as hell. Is your life turning out like you pictured it would? QUITE THE FUCKING OPPOSITE. Do your initials spell out a word? No. Has anyone ever given you roses? Yeah. Last baby you held? My older sister's youngest daughter. Whose wedding were you in the first time you were a bridesmaid or groomsman? My aforementioned sister's. What is something you would never do to your body? I mean, there's a large number of things. There are certain piercings and tattoos I wouldn't dare to get, I plan on taking care of my hair as best I can to avoid ruining it despite wanting to dye it a lot... *shrug* Stuff like that. How are you planning to decorate your house for Halloween? I don't know if we'll decorate. We haven't really for a few years now... I don't have the motivation to do it myself, and now that it's just me and her and I'm grown up (I know, I'm laughing too), Mom doesn't really bother with doing it. I know I DO want to carve pumpkins this year, though. Dunno what, but I'll figure it out. Ever lived in a trailer park? No. Do you like salsa that has fruit in it? NOOOOOOOOOOO Can you count in binary? No. Do you like hard or soft pretzels better? I'll eat both, but I have a strong preference for soft ones. When was the last time someone kissed you on the cheek? Who was it? I'm sure that was either my niece of nephew when I was leaving their house when I last visited for Ryder's birthday. What kind of ice cream did you eat last? Where’d you get it from? It was chocolate. I had a scoop at the aforementioned birthday party. Do you like flowers? What is your favorite kind to receive? I love flowers. I don't have a favorite to receive, really. Have you ever unblocked someone that you blocked before? Yes. Has anyone slapped you across the face before? If so, why? No. Do you prefer to have more or less in common with your significant other? I like to be pretty similar. Would you take a shot of heroin for a million dollars? No. I don't fuck with that, even for that much money. Why don’t you talk to your ex anymore? He wants nothing to do with me. Do you think it is okay to drive while high? Obviously not...? Do you find Halloween or Valentine’s Day more exciting? Halloween. Has anyone you know ever had serious surgery before? Yeah; my mom immediately comes to mind in both instances she had cancer. When she had kidney cancer, the tumor was larger than the kidney itself, and she lost the entire organ. When she had ovarian cancer, she had to have a complete hysterectomy because the cancer was EVERYWHERE along her reproductive system to an almost fatal degree. My mom's pretty metal. If you had the last person you kissed’s Facebook password, would you go snooping through their stuff? Why or why not? No, because that's a violation of privacy? You don't do that shit. Have you ever fainted? If so, when was the last time? If not, have you ever came close to? Yes. The only time that I remember was maaaany years ago, like, maybe '14. I've nearly fainted plenty of times since then for various reasons, but mostly just from low blood pressure. Ever take a keyboarding class? Do you type using the skills you learned in that class or how you used to before you took the class? Yes; I believe one course was mandatory in middle school. I type the proper way, yeah. Ever cut your hair (the entire thing – not just the bangs or a little part) yourself? Noooo. Would you ever open your own business? If so, what kind of business could you imagine yourself having? Well, I'd like to be a freelance photographer, but to be real, I'm starting to loosen up on that dream. It's been too long, I just don't see it happening anymore. Baby steps are one thing, but I've barely managed any of those in forever. Ever meet and talk to someone from an online dating site? No. Would you date someone you weren’t physically attracted to? Why or why not? Yes; I've done it before. I just care way more about emotional chemistry. Besides, historically, me liking someone for their heart has made each person a lot more attractive to me as a whole. Last person to hang up on you? I dunno. What’s your favorite scary movie? The Blair Witch Project. The second one is great, too, plus The Crazies. Which urban legend is your favourite? Oh man, you can't ask me this. I LOVE cryptids and conspiracies 'n shit. Are any of your fears completely irrational? Yes, like whale sharks. A whale shark ain't gonna hurt u boo but I see that mouth and am like no thnx Where is the light switch in your room? Funnily enough, I don't have a light switch; there isn't a ceiling light in this room. I instead have two table lamps that I can turn on on either side of my bed. Would you make a good lawyer? Hell no, I cry when I argue lmao. It's funny tho because I remember in TWO instances, in-depth surveys recommending jobs for you brought up me being a lawyer, and each time I was just like,,,,, no???????? Why did your family decide to live where you’re living now? It was more necessity than anything. Our old house had a LOT of issues to it, and with Mom's cancer diagnosis, she needed the cleanest environment possible, and that was NOT our old place. The house we live in now is owned by a family friend, and when the previous owner died, the timing just... kinda worked out to where that family friend I mentioned helped us pay our way into here. We really don't like this place because of the location, but it had to work. What was the best pet you've ever had? All things considered, I have to hand it to my boy Teddy. That dog was someone special. Very, very special. If you were allowed one murder without punishment, would you do it? Nah. Name one song you can play on an instrument, any instrument! I can probably still slam out "Hot Cross Buns" on a recorder. \m/ Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle? Noooo, I'm scared to. On the opposite sex, do you prefer muscles, average size, or scrawny bodies? It depends on the person, ig. I can be attracted to any of those. Just not EXTREME muscle. Not my thing at all.

Nothings ever what it seems

Bucky Barnes x Reader AU

Summary: Sometimes how we see things by our own eyes are not how things really are. This a journey of how you should never judge people by what you see.

Warnings: Swearing, bullies, parent’s death, mention of death, depression, lots of angst, but a happy ending.

A/N: This is my little entry for @mermaidxatxheart​ 500 followers challenge, but I’m pretty sure it doubled by now ;) It’s really emotional and kind of triggering stuff so if you do not feel like reading PLEASE DON’T. But I am very happy about this piece as I always wanted to write something about bullies, as it’s a personal thing for me. I hope you will enjoy it <3

oh and let me tag @idjitmonkey​, I hope you don’t mind, but you wanted to have a read at that, so here it is <3

Word Count: 4300+ (wow, sorry)

There are people who loved high school. All the sports teams, cheerleading, friendships that would pathetically last forever. First ‘real’ relationships, sex drive and partying. Oh, and the prom, homecoming and all the shitty things all the girl were so happy about. All those people loved High School. But you were not one of them. 

You hated it so much. Every memory you had about this time of your life was filled with sadness, anger or anxiety. You hated everything associated with High School. You never went to any sports events, didn’t care about cheerleading or who is dating who. You couldn’t give less of a shit about fashion, make-up or the parties. Those years were a nightmare for you. 

As a shy girl that focused her attention on studying, books and all the ‘lame’ clubs (like history and literature) you were one of the first to be bullied. You tried your best not to show that it affected you, hoping that they would give up eventually. Of course, being a poor kid in a school fool of rich assholes wasn’t helping. You weren’t dressing like them, weren’t talking the same language. You never went out, not to mention that you never had a taste of alcohol or went on a date. 

All you ever cared about was your education and all those part-time jobs you started to get when you finally turned 16. You needed the money more than all those stupid parties. Despite having a full-paid scholarship for your school there were still expenses that needed to be covered. Like your dad chemotherapy. Despite him trying to hide all the expenses from you, you knew how much money went into that and how little savings he had. All the money went on you, and you decided that as soon as you turn 16 you will work for yourself. And so you did. After the first year of high school, you gave up on all the clubs and took three part-time jobs. You slept around 4 hours with an extra two on Sundays, but you managed somehow. 

Your dad was pissed when he found out that you gave up your young, high school life for him, but he was never more proud of you. You cherished those little moments you had with him. You always gave him the stories you wrote and he gave you the best feedback. You told him some made-up stories of your amazing highschool and friends you had. He didn’t need to know how lonely you were. Nor about the bullies, that seemed to love making your life even a more of a living hell. 

HYDRA. That’s what they called themselves. Bunch of guys (and girls) that would start their life by taking all the lunch money from the kids. When they found out you had no actual money they made sure to destroy you mentally. During lunches they would always accidentally tipped their drinks on you, leaving you with dirty and soaked clothes until the end of the day. 

But this you could survive. From time to time Steve Rogers and his gang would step up and defend the weak. A captain of the football team and the smartest guy in school has never looked down on you. But he was also from a rich family, that should ‘keep their level’ which means he would never even consider being friends with someone like you. 

But there was him. James Buchanan ‘call me Bucky’ Barnes. From what the rumours said he was friends with Rumlow - the head of HYDRA gang - since primary school, but before high school they got into a huge fight. And now became the biggest enemies. 

“You ok?” He once asked you, those grey-ish eyes that would hunt you till your last breath - gazed at you. He was the first person that treated you like a human being in this school and your stupid teenage heart decided to fall for him. For someone, you could never have. Someone that was from an entire world. A place where he could happily be a high schooler, a playboy and the most charming boy you ever met. All he needed was just a simple smile and all the girls would give themselves to him. The bad boy looks mixed with a kind heart. 

If you wouldn’t be so tired and focused on school and work, you would probably be apart of this group of girls secretly hoping he would ask them out. But you weren’t. So despite trying to make things better, you - the world's biggest disaster - just growled, took your backpack and left with no words spoken to anyone. 

The Avengers, as HYDRA called them, weren’t too happy about how you treated their kindness. Natasha Romanoff, a daughter of ahead of the police, cornered you in the bathroom once and made very clear that next time someone saves your sorry ass you thank them. 

And that’s how you went on with your life. Having two biggest, most influential gangs in high school hating you. Sometimes you would catch Barnes (you would never call him any other than his last name) glancing at you, smirk under his nose. 

So your life continued. It was cruel and tiring but a least you had your dad to make it work. It was him to beg you to go to at least your prom if you missed the homecoming. (you told him you weren’t feeling good). He even bought you a dress online. So when the day came you got yourself ready and was about to head to show yourself all fancy looking to your dad, when you got a phone call from a doctor to come to the hospital as your father was feeling worse. 

And this was when your life changed completely. There you were in this ridiculously beautiful dress, watching your dad’s heart stop beating before you were able to show yourself to him. Your world ended that day. At the age of 18, you were left alone in this world. With an enormous bill to pay and an acceptance letter for the NY University. On this day, you closed yourself even more. You didn’t even care about all those mean words from Rumlow or the little smirks and looks from Barnes. You focused completely on studying and surviving. You sold the house your dad still had hoped to keep and with the money you had from it you rented a small apartment outside of NY. An hour and a half drive altogether, but at least something you were able to afford. 

When you got that acceptance letter, you promised yourself that your life will change. You will be a better person and actually enjoy uni, even if you would have to work twice as much. You wanted to do it for him. Your dad. But now that he was gone, you had no reason. So before the Uni started you were able to find yourself two surprisingly well-paid jobs.

**

Journalism was always something you wanted to do. A little dream in the back of your head. Something your dad always encouraged you to do. And now that you were finally about to start your year at your dream Uni, there was nothing that would stop you. At least that’s what you thought. Until your first introduction class to WW2 you decided to take, as you always loved history. 

“Well isn’t this Mrs Trouble-maker?” You froze hearing the familiar voice of the man who once helped you. You looked up from the book you were reading while waiting for the class to start. “Of course front table.” He chuckled and smirked at you. The same damn smirk that was hunting you since that day. His hair was a bit longer and he seemed to spend a bit of time at the gym during summer. His eyes, however, were as beautiful as they have always been. 

“Barnes…” You whispered, closing your book and looking up at him. “I didn’t know you were going to NY.” 

“She speaks!” He laughed, turning towards Steve who just walked in. He nodded his head as a way to say hi and sighed at his best friend. “Year of having classes together and you never spoke to me directly.”  

“Buck”, Rogers growled, when the room started to fill. 

“You ok, if I sit here?” Your frowned, when he showed to the seat next to you. You shrugged and turned towards the front of the class when the professor walked in. You tried to focus on the class, ignoring the little glances Barnes was sending towards you. 

*

You were more than relieved not to see him in any of your journalism classes. Apparently, it was just this one you both shared. Through the whole summer, you hoped you will never see the people from high school ever again. You hoped this part of your life was over. You could move on. As pathetically as you do it, just move on. 

“Miss Trouble-maker!” You cursed under your nose, wondering why gods hate you. “I didn’t know you work here.” A small cafe place was paying quite good money as it was normally visited by rich folks that didn’t mind spending 24 dollars on a stupid latte. 

“What can I get you?” You asked trying to stay as professional as possible. You even gave him one of your fake smiles. 

“Oi, Stevie, Natasha, look who I found!” You felt shivers down your spine hearing her name. Oh, Barnes was annoying, while Romanoff was just frightening. And of course, she looked even more beautiful after summer. Her always short hair grew longer. And not to mention that she has probably lost some kilos as well. If that was even physically possible. 

“Y/L/N”, she greeted you with a grin and you welcomed them as they would be every other customer. “I heard you got into NYU…” Oh, how you hated small talk, especially when there was a line of customers started to appear. 

“I’m sorry but the line is getting bigger. Can I help you with your choice today?” You really tried to sound as nice and polite as possible. 

“It’s not very polite to not answer someone’s question”, she hissed and narrowed her eyes at you. 

“Is something wrong.” You froze hearing the voice of your boss. The biggest chauvinistic, rich boy of an asshole you ever met. He was not much older than you, but because he got rich daddy he became a manager of his own coffee place right after uni. “Y/N the line is getting bigger.” He growled at you angrily. Oh, and of course he hated you. Especially after you declined his offer for a date about four times already. He was just waiting for an excuse to hire you. 

“You should teach your workers to answer questions, Jack.” Your widened hearing Romanoffs remark. 

“Natasha! It’s so good to see you.” He smiled and went there to give her a hug. 

“Come on Nat, it’s our fault!” Bucky chimed in, giving you an apologetic look, which you tried to ignore. “Sorry, man. I was trying to catch up with a friend from school.” You did everything you could not roll your eyes at it. A friend from school. That was a good one. 

“Doesn’t justify why the line is getting bigger.”

“Maybe if you helped your workers a bit, it wouldn’t be that bad?” Bucky hissed. Apparently, they both didn’t like each other much. 

“I’m the manager, Barnes. I hire people to do their damn job and if someone can’t they probably shouldn’t be here…” As you were about to just ignore them and take another customer in, you froze hearing his words. “Sorry guys for the inconvenience your coffee on me.” He then smiled and turned towards you. “Well on her, as she seems not to be able to do her job!” Your eyes widen. No, no, that was not happening. Why did the world hate you so much? 

“Sorry doll, I...:” 

“Have you decided on your choice of beverage, sir?” You asked, trying to stop the angry tears from flowing. You were sure that when the day is over you will lose that job. And what’s worse getting a job in the middle of the academic year was a nightmare. Almost impossible. 

“Come on, Buck…” Steve murmured and ordered three cappuccinos for himself and his friends. “And we’ll pay.” He smiled and took his card from the pocket of his jacket. “Sorry about it, Y/N.” You nodded and turned around, preparing yourself for the end of the day. 

*

It was supposed to be your time. Journalism was what you loved since you were a kid. An idea of telling someone’s story was so appealing to you. So beautiful and romantic. But now when the end of the year came and you got a yearly reminder of how much you own to different institutions you were sick. The bill for your dad’s treatment wasn’t getting any better. not to mention the still growing rates of your student loan and all the postponed bill were growing as well. You were completely broke and after losing the job at the cafe you didn’t get to find another one. Not a part-time, who would expect students or something which was remotely near uni or your flat. Not to mention that your landlord needed to raise the rent, which only made you realise how fucked up you were. You were able to get extra shifts at the shop but it still didn’t pay the expenses. You needed to make life decisions and this one, to end your childhood dream was one of it. 

A year of expenses from University was still better than a future 5 years (mixed Master course)  and as much as it pained you to send the letter to the dean you needed to do it. You cried the whole week prior to this decision. You felt even worse when the amazing guy tried to make you stay, promising to try and help you with the loan. But even with the extra scholarship, you wouldn’t be able to make it. So with as much spirit and power you had in you, you thanked him and left his office ending your student career. 

“Miss Trouble-maker!” You have got to be fucking me! Since the cafe incident, he tried to talk to you. Even invited to a 4th of July (and Steve’s birthday) frill and theirs. But you ignored him. You didn’t care you were impolite but you hated him. And as much as you knew he wasn’t really at fault for your shitty situation but now you really needed to put a blame on someone. “I missed you at the hist…” He got quiet when he noticed the tears that you had enough of hiding. “What happened?” His voice serious, and there some softness in his feature. 

“Leave me alone, Barnes!” You hissed, and walked past him, to the end of the building, really not wanting to make a scene at the corridor. “Just once in your life, leave me the fuck alone”, he was taken back by the curse. For all the years he’s been observing you, you never once cursed. Never. You were a goodie girl. 

“No. You’re crying. Come on, tell me what’s happening? Did someone hurt you?” The sincerity in his voice was so annoying. Why was he so nice to you. Why did he even care? 

“Why would you care heh?” You growled, not caring about making a scene anymore. He wanted to know. Then fuck it. He will know. “Why would someone like you care? Your whole life is nothing but open doors waiting for you to cross. Why would you give a fluffing fuck about someone like me? You never cared about making my high school life a living hell beside that damn Romanoff and Rumflow. The never leaving smirk on your face haunts me till this day. The way you look down at people who weren’t so lucky to be born rich.” You sniffed and pushed him away from you when he tried to take a step closer. “And when I thought I was finally free from this damn school, you and Romanoff happened again. You walked into my life, making it a living hell again. This one time after this damn prom night, I wanted to start living again, but no, you were always there, with this annoying smirk of yours!” You didn't care that there were people watching the two of you. You were sure you heard Rogers and Romanoff from the crowd, but Barnes stopped them with a shove of his hand. “But I didn’t care. I learned to have my life a living hell, but then you had to come to my work and destroy all of it, with your damn friends!” You shouted, showing at surprised Natasha. “You with your high status, rich kids behaviour cost me my job!” His eyes widen and when he was about to open his mouth to speak, you stopped him. “You have no clue about my life. No idea how hard it is for me to survive every passing hour. Not to break down and just fucking give up.” You shook your head, wiped the tears with your sleeve and turned around. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Whatever game you were playing, you won, Bucky. Congratulations.” It was the first time you called him that and it burnt your lips. “Damn it, everyone is watching… At least I will never come back to this place…”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?”

“I quit. Are you happy now? huh? DOES THIS MAKE YOU HAPPY?!” You shouted, turning back to him. “Life isn’t always as happy and under control, as yours is. Life is shit, Barnes. I hope you will never have to find it out!” And with no words left you run towards the exit, pumping at Romanoff, who had the decency to look sad. 

*

“I miss you, daddy!” You whispered, putting a simple sunflower on his grave. “I… I can’t do this any longer. My life is a mess, really. I'm a mess. You know… I left uni…” it was a month after you shouted at Barnes and left NYU and the first time you came to your dad’s grave. “I could not afford it. All the expenses. The bills, the loans… Everything just kept crashing down. But hey I got two jobs back. Damn it, daddy… I don’t blame you don’t get me wrong, it’s just. It’s hard. And I made a fool of myself and blamed a poor guy for all my problems. He didn't deserve my bitchy attitude, but… It was Barnes.” you chuckled remembering the time you told your dad about a guy you had a crush on. “He really didn’t deserve it. Now that I think about it, he was always nice to me. A bit cheeky and annoying but nice. Well, I guess it was harder not to have a crush on him, right?” You chuckled through the tears. “I think I will leave NY. I may go and live in a small town. You would be so disappointed at me, daddy. I really wanted you to see me happy. I was ready to come to the hospital and show you this damn prom dress, but… I’m sorry daddy.” You sat on the ground and hid your face in your knees. 

“I’m sorry.” You jumped on your feet hearing a familiar voice behind you. There was Barnes, with tears in his eyes, and a flower bouquet in his hand. “I didn’t know… No one knew…” 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, pretending to start cleaning, the already cleaned grave. 

“Please don’t hate me for that.” You frowned hearing his defeated voice. “Nat looked you up using her dad’s access.” You froze, but then you shrugged. No, you didn't care anymore. “Jesus, Y/N, did anyone from school knew? Teachers? Anyone?” 

“It doesn’t matter, Barnes.” You shook your head and put your small backpack on, and got yourself ready to leave. “Thank you for the flowers. If you wish you can put them next to mine. He would be happy.” 

“Y/N, please.” He cried, stopping you by your wrist. “Please… I… I really didn’t know about your situation. I didn’t know your dad was sick, not that he died… Please.”

“What do you wanna know Barnes? What’s more important, why do you need to know? It won’t change anything.”

“I always looked at you.” He smiled softly. “You were this smart, quiet, beautiful girl who caught my eyes. Damn, I was obsessed with you. I was hoping to see you at the prom, I wanted to ask you out. But you never came, now I know why...“ His gaze shifted at the grave behind you. “I cannot even imagine what you went through… But maybe we can start from the start and I can take you out for a coffee or something?” You looked at him and there was something shifting in your heart. This always confident guy was now all shy and nervous, all because of you. You put your hand on his cheek and smiled. 

“I will start everything from the beginning. This is why I’m leaving. Have a great life, Bucky.” He wanted to stop you, convince you to not leave but he knew that he was being selfish. So he watched you go. He left the flowers on the grave and promised to come here every year from now on. And maybe he would be able to see you again. 

*

It has been years since you came to this place. Ten years since you moved away and started a new, better life. You moved to Carlisle and worked in the little library there with some extra job in the small coffee shop. You got your degree in teaching and not journalism and you schooled kids in the little military school there, while you found yourself writing books, one after the other and before you were able to blink you were one of the most established writers. Your books were selling quicker than the freshly baked bread and you were finally happy. You were sending flowers to your dads grave unable to come back there. Until this year. After years you decided to move back to NY. A city you found yourself to actually love. You bought an actual flat in Brooklyn and got a small teaching job at the school there. Despite not having to work, thanks to your books, you still loved doing it. 

And when the anniversary of his death came, you finally went there, only to be met with a figure cleaning the grave. You frowned, knowing that you have cancelled the yearly grave caring. 

“Hello?” You froze when the man turned around. Despite those ten years, he hasn’t changed much. He has cut his hair from what he had in college. He has become a bit bigger, especially around shoulders. His jaw seemed sharper than before. He changed. From a boy, he transformed to even a more handsome man. But his eyes stayed the same. Beautiful greyish once that always melted your heart. You didn’t remember him being so tall, but when he straightened up he was a good head taller than you. “Barnes?” 

“Y/N?” His expression softened, hearing your voice. It was visible on his face that he had not recognized you. Of course not. You weren’t this poor kid anymore. You were good clothes and a bit of makeup. Your hair was well done, and not kept in a loose ponytail. Just like he has become a man, you have become a woman. “Wow… You... “ He coughed awkwardly, which made you giggle quietly. “You look great, Y/n.” He finally said, his voice a bit distant, almost unsure what this compliment would make you do. 

“You don’t look bad yourself.” You complimented himself, and you swore you could see a faint blush on his cheeks. “What are you doing here?” You asked, softer now. You noticed the already cleaned grave and some fresh flowers. 

“I…” He hanged his head and took a deep breath. “Don’t be mad at me, ok?” You frowned and nodded, letting him continue. “I… Since you left I came here every year and took care of your father’s grave. I felt so bad for how I treated you, and everything, and… Well when you left, this was the only reminder of you.” You felt your heartache at this shy, lost man standing opposite you. He was this confident, smirking and annoying kid anymore. You could see it in his eyes. He went through ups and downs in his life, which made him a different man. “I… Can stop if you want. I’m sorry, now that I think about it, it was invasion of your privacy… Shit, I…” You stopped him putting an arm on his forearm, to stop him from mumbling. 

“Thank you, Bucky.” His eyes widen, when his nickname sounded so soft. He swallowed and smiled shyly. “It means a lot to me, really. I… I think I should apologise to you as well. I was unfair to put all my failures on you. you were always nice to me, and I… I think it all just was just too much for me. I’m sorry Bucky for being such a bitch.” He chuckled and you couldn’t help but admit that this made him look even more handsome. So you decided to be a bit bolt. “What do you do after this?” 

“Nothing planned, why?” He asked, brows raised, when you smirked at him, trying to mimic his smirk from high school. 

“How about I go apologise and say hi to my dad and then we can grab that coffee you promised me those ten years ago?” He gaped at you like you were crazy for a second, but then his face lit up and the most beautiful smile appeared on his face. 

“I’d love that doll.”

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 10 - Gogo

Disclaimer:  So, this story is PG. Basically anything you might see come up in an old 90s sitcom, like Boy Meets World, Fresh Prince, Save by the Bell ect, is liable to show up along with anything that the parent shows cover. Nothing unsuitable for family entertainment, but clearly covering more mature subjects than the original source material, including today’s chapter which discusses alcohol.

Varian was hot. The sun beat down on the back of his neck and sweat began to trickle down his forehead. He couldn't remember experiencing a hotter day. In Corona the temperature wouldn't rise more than a balmy 15 degrees Celsius normally, but today, here in San Fansokyo, it had to be close to 20 or more. His phone said it was 73 degrees Fahrenheit specifically, but he was still getting used to the different measurements Americans typically used. All he knew was that he had worn the lightest clothes he had, a tank top and athletic shorts, and he was still burning up. 

Unfortunately, there was nowhere to escape from the oppressive heat. He was standing on the sidewalk next to a stranger's house while Gogo worked on their car. She did repair work on vehicles as a side job. Often exchanging her services for a cheaper price to other students which in turn gave her more flexibility in what jobs she took and when. 

Right now she was helping out another student whose car wouldn't start and didn't want to call a tow to take it to a mechanic. Varian had expressed an interest in learning how automobiles worked, so she had agreed to letting him come along and teaching him some basics. However, there was nothing for him to do at the moment. Gogo was under the vehicle on a rolling board and there wasn't enough room for both of them down there. So all Varian could do was standby and watch, which was difficult as he couldn't really see what she was doing from the position she was in now. 

Instead he surveyed the street and surrounding buildings. There were the tightly packed three story townhouses behind them and on the other side of the street were clothing shops, apartments, a bank on the far street corner, and a single restaurant that read ‘Maggie’s Pub and Grill’. Varian licked his lips at the thought of drinking something cold and wet to stave off the blistering heat. He dug his hands in his pockets to check if he had any cash. He still had a fiver leftover from the twenty Wasabi had given him two weeks ago at the mall. 

“Hey Gogo, I’m going to go get a drink, you want anything?” He loudly asked the girl lying under the car.

“Uhhh, a soda would be nice. Maybe some Mr. Pep.” Gogo yelled back at him, never leaving her position or stopping her work. 

“I don’t know if they sell that there, but I’ll ask” and with that he walked away and headed across the street. 

“Just knock on the door and ask Ashley if she has any...” Gogo said distractedly, not noticing that Varian was no longer there. After a moment or two without hearing an answer, Gogo suddenly rolled out from underneath the vehicle. 

“Wait.” She said to no one in particular as she stared up at the sky and began to put together what had just happened.

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

Varian squinted his eyes as he walked into the dark pub. The establishment was empty save for the barkeep at the other end wiping down the counter. This surprised Varian. In his world a place like this would be packed at this time of day, filled with field workers and sheepherders stopping to take their mid-day break. Practically his whole village would be gathered at the local tavern to eat, drink, and share gossip before going back to work. Varian had figured it would be even more crowded here given the larger city and the heat of day. 

He shrugged his shoulders. Oh well, maybe the food here wasn’t all that good. Didn’t matter, all he wanted was a drink. He walked over to the bar. 

“Hi, do you sell any, what was it she asked for,” Varian waved hello at the man on the other side and then cupped his chin in thought as he tried to recall what it was Gogo had wanted. “Pep?” He finished.

The large man didn’t answer him back, only to wordlessly reach under the counter and pull out a can of the soda and set it down. 

“Oh, yes, that’s it. Also I’ll have your darkest ale, please.” 

“I.D.” The man said deadpan. 

“Excuse me?” Varian asked, not sure what the man was requesting. 

“I need to see your officially licensed identification.” The man explained tiredly, as if he had to recite this often. 

“Uh, I have my student I.D. if that’s what you want.” Varian said, confused, as his hand went back into his pocket to dig out his wallet and money.   

The big man gave a heavy sigh and pointed to a sign placed in front of the cash register. ‘In Accordance to Federal Law all Patrons must be 21 or older to purchase alcohol and must show valid I.D.’ It read.

“You need a government issued license or passport, kid.” The barkeep said with annoyance, clearly believing Varian was there to try and pull some scam.

Varian, however, could only stare at the sign in bewilderment, still frozen in place with his hand in his pocket. His mouth hung open in astonishment as he tried to process what was going on. The amount of reliance on forms and identification in this world was odd enough but now there were laws against beer? That was practically all anyone drunk in his world. Coffee, tea, and cocoa were expensive and meant as a treat, and the only drinking water to be had were from the community wells, the river being brackish that close to the sea, and you still had to take time to draw the water. Which you didn’t want to do every time you were thirsty. And while this world did have running water, less expensive hot beverages, and that sugary soda in abundance; he still couldn’t figure out why that would be the cause for preventing anyone from buying an ale, let alone people under such an arbitrary age. 

“But… but why?” He whined in confusion. 

Just then Gogo burst through the door, stormed to up to the front counter, and before Varian could complain to her about this dumb rule, she grabbed him by the ear and proceeded to drag him back outside.

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

It wasn’t until they had made it back across the street did Gogo relinquish her grip on Varian. 

“What were you thinking!” She whirled on him angrily.

Varian only stood there and looked at her, still befuddled and ruefully rubbing his ear where she had pinched it.  

“You’re only sixteen!” She yelled, as if this was the most obvious explanation for her righteous anger.  

“So? You’re only eighteen.” He retorted back. As if she had any right to berate him in such a manner when she was only two years older. 

“I’m an adult,” She explained. “But that’s not the point. You’re a child. You don’t need to be drinking or trying to trick bartenders that you’re older.”

“I’m not a child!” Varian responded, properly angry now himself. “What makes you any different?” 

“I can hold down a job, pay rent, buy groceries, I can vote.” She began to list off what she thought were requirements for adulthood. 

“Sooo can you drink?” Varian interrupted as he pointed back to the bar. 

“Well, no.” She admitted, temporarily tripped up by that question. However, the smug look on Varian’s face renewed her annoyance with him. “You can’t even buy a hamburger without someone’s help.” 

“Just because I’m new to this world, doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself.” He said, deeply offended by that last remark. 

“Oh really, and when’s the last time you had to buy your own food, or clothes, or live on your own?” She asked skeptically.

“I’ve been on my own since I was fourteen!” He snapped. 

Then just as suddenly he stiffened with surprise, he hadn’t meant for that to come out. Both he and Gogo stared at each other, herself equally in shock by his revelation. He quickly turned his head away, bit his lower lip, and stuck his hands in his pockets. He just stood there awkwardly unwilling to look her in the eyes.

For Gogo’s part, she felt her heart drop the moment he had said it. What did he mean ‘on his own’? Who’d leave a fourteen year old to fend for themselves? Didn’t he say he had a dad? But before she could ask for some clarity, Varian spoke again. 

“Look, I’m sorry,” He said defensively, “I didn’t know about the alcohol rule. It won’t happen again.” He put his hands up in defeat and then walked away from her and the conversion. Making his way back to the car, he picked up a wrench and began to tighten a socket. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing but anything to keep himself busy and to avoid any more uncomfortable arguments. 

Gogo watched him with increasing worry. She wanted to know more, to help him, but she could tell from his stance and his behavior that he wasn’t willing to talk about it. She knew all about avoiding feelings and bottling up one’s problems. Not that long ago she had been a moody teenager who shoved people away, too. Heck, she still was a moody teenager that shoved people away. Though she had gotten better since she started college. It was amazing how much difference only two years could make. 

Before she had met Tadashi and her other friends, she had been a pretty lonely person. Constantly bullied in grade school and struggling with depression, she was considered the weird emo kid that always sat quietly in the back of the class. However, no matter how bad things had gotten, no matter how many fights she got into at school, nor now many times she cried into her pillow at night, she had always, always had her dad to turn to. Even now she still relied on the man, rushing to him to bare her soul when Tadashi had died, unable to bring herself to talk to anyone else about her recent loss. 

Who did Varian have? She wondered. If his father wasn’t there for him, then who did he turn to for help? Why had he even been left alone? 

Her thoughts were broken when Varian let out a yelp of pain. He had burned his hand on the hot metal and proceeded to stick his fingers in his mouth to suck on the injured digits, still not looking at her, embarrassed by his clumsiness.   

She let out a weary sigh. He was a mess. But so was she, and she didn't know how best to reach him. What would dad do? She thought. Try to get her to open up about a subject that she did enjoy or distract her with a project, she decided. 

"Sooo, Wasabi tells me you want to learn how to drive." Gogo said, changing the subject while she slowly made her way over to stand next to him. 

"Yeah." Varian agreed quietly, keeping his eyes on the engine, still choosing to not look at her. "But because I just moved here I wouldn't be able to get my license for another six months. I'm not sure I'll still be here by then." And with that he ducked back under the hood. 

This didn't sound encouraging to Gogo. If he truly was on his own then what was he going back for? But she knew bringing her doubts up would only push him away further. 

"Well, if you are still here in six months, you'll need a car to drive around in." She suggested instead. 

This grabbed Varian's attention and he finally stopped to look back at her. "Whatd'ya mean?"

"Well it's just, if you want to still learn how cars work, then perhaps we can build one, together. That way if Wasabi helps you get your license then you'll have your own vehicle to ride in." She continued slowly.

"You… you mean it?" Varian hopefully asked. 

"Sure, we can work on it in our free time." She said encouragingly. 

"Yeah? Yeah! That... that’d be great. I'd really like that." Varian agreed. 

He smiled appreciatively at Gogo and she returned it in kind. 

"Of course the first thing you'll need to learn is what socket you need to tighten or not." She gently teased, pointing to the socket he had busied himself with for the past few minutes to no avail. 

"Oh, right." He laughed in embarrassment and finally stopped trying to use the wrench. 

"Here, let me show you how to check the oil." She said and thus the day passed without further incident, just the two of them laughing and bonding over cars.

DaughterOfPoseidon Favorites

My hero academia-Kiribaku

🔴 = NSFW

Please read at your own risk. Carefully read tags and enjoy!

A Name That You'll Remember by Heronfem

Kirishima Eijirou is a Hero. Bakugou Katsuki... is not. Trapped in his toxic workplace and increasingly desperate to get out, Red Riot's days are only brightened by a new villain known as Caution, who's not exactly villainous and keeps accidentally doing good deeds. But when a real villain appears, a threat from the past that demands that Red Riot make the ultimate sacrifice to keep the public safe, Bakugou is forced into saving the day... and eventually, Red Riot himself.

Part 1 of Won't Go Quietly

Freshly Ground Coffee by arxaris

Bakugou had been going to BeansPot Coffe for a long time. A hole-in-the-wall coffee shop in the middle of the city, the place was a wonderfully well-kept secret – at least in Bakugou’s opinion. And that’s exactly how he liked it. Coffee with a side of quiet, blissful anonymity had become his favorite way to start his work day. Which was why he was instantly on guard when he walked in one morning to see a new face standing behind the counter. Well, actually, first he saw his hair.

Stop-sign red and styled up into spikes, it looked ridiculous against the cream-colored walls of the shop. Between that and the way-too-wide smile that stretched across his face, he was almost hard to look at directly.

Too goddamn bright for this early in the morning.

Or, pro-hero Ground Zero had a morning routine that he liked perfectly fine, thank you very much. That is, until a bright-eyed new barista showed up to throw a wrench in it, one caramel latte at a time.

sparks by helwolves 🔴

“I’m just really happy,” Eijirou says. He sighs shakily and then all but collapses onto Katsuki, burying his face against the vulnerable spot at the base of his throat. “Ah, you smell so good,” he says, trailing off into a soft growl. “They say that means you’ll be really compatible with your rider, you know... Is it the same for men?”

Alternately: "they can't show us Bakugou riding a dragon that might be Kirishima and NOT expect me to want him to fuck it."

Part 1 of sparks, etc.

Blood of my Hand by PurplePersnickety

Eijirou is a half dragon, stuck in a cage, unable to shift from his human form. Then a bad-tempered barbarian arrives on the scene, Eijirou makes a blood pact he'll probably regret, and he learns that finding a missing friend of his might just tie into the fate of the world.

Katsuki is a mountain clan outcast, and if he ever wants to return then he must meet the demands of the Queen and bring back the head of a dragon. Then Katsuki meets the most irritating lizard, makes a blood pact he'll probably regret, and learns that- wait? The world? Oh fuck.

quote love unquote by newamsterdam

Sero nods. “It’s the chance of a lifetime, really,” he says. “We want you to date Bakugou, for the sake of his reputation with the press. Some public appearances, a few ‘candid’ photos. For at least a couple of months.”

“Bakugou sent you to ask me to date him?” Kirishima asks, baffled.

“Of course not. We, his people, are asking you to date him. He’s going to have to get on board, if he wants his career to survive. And in the bargain, Riot will get all sorts of publicity, because their lyricist will be dating one of the industry’s hottest stars. A win for everyone.”

When Kirishima Eijirou's band hits the big time, he's not prepared for his newfound fame. He's even less prepared to meet the actor he's been crushing on for years, or to start dating him as a publicity stunt. The closer Kirishima gets to Bakugou Katsuki, the more he realizes he's in over his head. But it's hard to stop, once his heart is in it.

A Dragon's Hoard by chezka

There was a lizard in Kirishima’s room.

A scaley, clawed, fanged lizard. A fifty centimeters long, red, winged lizard.

A dragon, there was a dragon in the middle of the floor of Kirishima’s room.

Bakugou blinked slowly, a hand curled around the door’s handle and one foot still out in the hallways. He looked at the dragon, the dragon looked back at him.

“What the fuck,” Bakugou whispered.

take your broken wings and fly by bwyn

Rifts—man, he hates these things. They look misty, but are dry; they look hot, but feel cold as a winter chill. They’re the exact opposite of what his eyes assume. It’s like some sort of sensory illusion. To top it all off, if he thinks about them too long, the space behind his eyes starts to throb. Not worth it.

The hawk takes off without prompting the closer Eijirou gets. Goosebumps prickle across his skin at the waft of cool air.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” grunts Eijirou as his skin goes hard around his hands.

Part 1 of Tales from the Rift

The Beauty of a Beast by starofjems

Once upon a time a lonely beast lived in a manor deep in the forest. He dreamed of the day his true love appeared to break his curse... When a beauty finally appears in his life, it is not quite as he imagined. For who could have thought a beauty would be more of a beast.

Or

The beauty and the beast AU nobody asked for but here it is.

Broomsticks by ComiclzWrites 🔴

Local witch Bakugo Katsuki doesn't have many friends and he'd like to keep it that way but the shop that he gets all his ingredients from has a new delivery boy that might just work his way into Bakugo's fiery little heart.

AKA: Bakugo Katuski is a witch, Kirishima Eijirou is his delivery boy, and this is the story of how they fell in love.

Broken Bridges by DeathBelle 🔴

After years of working abroad, Kirishima moves back to Japan to open his own agency, and things seem to be going well. There’s plenty of work, he gains popularity quickly, and it’s a relief to be back in his home country. Everything is perfect, until he runs into Bakugou on the scene of a villain attack.

Bakugou had been his best friend at U.A., but the two of them haven’t spoken for years. That had been Bakugou’s decision, not Kirishima’s, and he's still a little hurt by it. Regardless, it’s easy to put that aside in favor of rekindling his friendship with Bakugou. They fall back into a routine and it’s as if nothing has changed; including Kirishima’s old feelings for his best friend. When a new pair of villains starts picking off heroes one by one, Kirishima feels that he and Bakugou are the best heroes to take the case. All the extra time they spend together hunting villains is great, except Kirishima feels like his heart is being ripped out every time Bakugou looks at him.

Kneel by deviance 🔴

“Bakugou?”

Bakugou shuffled on his feet, hovering over Kirishima and looking at the ground with stormy eyes. He glanced up to glare at Kirishima, a silent dare to call him out on his odd behavior no doubt. Kirishima forced himself not to tense. Whatever Bakugou wanted, he was about to show him and Kirishima had to get this right. Bakugou was all about showing and not telling.

Kirishima nearly bit his tongue to keep in a squawk of surprise when Bakugou suddenly dropped to his knees next to him, shuffling forward until he could press his forehead to his thigh and hide his face against Kirishima's leg. Kirishima opened his mouth, questions on the tip of his tongue, and he barely managed to catch them before they could be given voice. Bakugou was trembling minutely, his entire frame so tense his muscles were twitching under Kirishima's gaze.

“Just. Don't say anything,” Bakugou muttered, hands clenching in his lap tightly. “Please,” he whispered, a short choked sound.

The Lost Continent by cattchi, paglykos 🔴

Kirishima Eijirou is from a noble family of pirate exterminators. Bakugou Katsuki is rising as one of the most fearsome pirates on the seas.

When a trade goes awry, Kirishima finds himself cast among Bakugou's crew, having to learn the ropes and the sea as they chase after All Might's infamous hidden treasure.

Of Ghosts and other Inaccurate Things by chezka

A week before the sports festival found Bakugou walking back home in the late afternoon, sunset light making his scowl even more menacing and drawing a long shadow right in front of him.

Someone was walking by his side.

There was no second shadow on the floor beside his own to confirm this, but if he kept his focus on the street ahead and carefully avoided trying to look to his left, he could consistently make out black hair swishing in the wind and strong arms leading to hands sunk in pants’ pockets. The edges were blurry, but there was definitely someone at his side.

Tell Me I'm Yours by arxaris 🔴

Bakugou was going a little crazy. He could grudgingly admit that it was at least in part his own fault; moving in with his best friend maybe hadn’t been the best idea. At first, it sounded great. The rent would be cheaper, grocery shopping and cooking for two would be way more convenient, and it would be easier for the two of them to hang out. The only thing was, Bakugou forgot to consider how the joys of moving in with his aforementioned best friend might be dampened by the fact that he was madly in love with him.

Alternatively: Kirishima Eijirou is a goddamn tease and there's no way he doesn't know what he's doing.

Part 1 of tell me i'm yours

Fire in the Storm by Vagabond for Shippeh 🔴

Bakugo Katsuki is a stubborn bastard and does what you should never do: splits the party. He gets caught in a rainstorm and seeks shelter in a cave which yields an interesting discovery in the form of a shape-changing stranger.

Or: Kirishima is a dragon, and Bakugo seeks shelter in his lair.

i'm going to the forest to kick my own ass by WannabeMarySue

“What the fuck,” he mutters, quietly but with feeling.

He stomps over and picks it up. Emotional Intelligence for Dummies glares up at him in garish yellow font.

“What the fuck,” he repeats, louder and with more feeling.

(or, todoroki tries to play a prank, but jokes on him, because bakugou is fueled by complex emotions like Anger and Winning).

Kitsune Bakugo and Oni Kiri (Inu x Boku SS AU) by ComiclzWrites 🔴

The Maison de Ayakashi is a high security apartment building where humans with demon or yōkai ancestors reside, each guarded by their own Secret Service bodyguard. Bakugo stuck with the ancestor of the Kitsune has been moved into the apartment as his parents last ditch effort to fix his aggressive personality; his hired bodyguard Kirishima the ancestor of the Oni seems determined to turn his world upside-down.

Everglow by Maplefudge

Eijirou and Katsuki are known to be a formidable duo, one being a dragon shifter, the other a powerful human with explosive magic. They work together as if it's second nature, and the nations know their names. However, it hasn’t always been like that.

aka

The story of how Eijirou and Katsuki accidentally formed a life bond with each other and ended up as reluctant partners.

'Cause the Dark's Not Taking Prisoners Tonight by imatrisarahtops

“Are those soba noodles?” Kirishima asked.

Again Bakugou’s only reply was a grunt. He offered no further explanation—not that Kirishima honestly expected one—as though making soba noodles from scratch at half past four in the morning wasn’t at all a bizarre occurrence and made complete and total sense. For a fleeting moment, Kirishima even wondered if maybe he was the odd one here. Besides, he’d already decided it was generally not in his best interest to question these types of things with Bakugou, especially when it was something essentially harmless.

When Kirishima has a nightmare and is unable to fall back asleep, he accepts defeat and decides to study in the common area of the dorms. What he doesn't expect to find is Bakugou, also very much awake, and Kirishima can't help but think that maybe they're both having the same problems with sleeping. If he's worried, it's just because they're friends. (Right?)

Cranky-rishima by PurplePersnickety

"Oh, I just fell out of bed," Kirishima said, almost airily. He put one hand to the back of his neck. "But I'm good."

Katsuki squinted at him. "No you're not."

Kirishima's expression fell, and he looked down at the hand not on his neck. His fingers were trembling and he closed his hand up into a fist. "No, I'm not. Fuck it."

Part 1 of Nightmares Aren't Explodable

Engraved in your Mind by Hejter

Bakugou Katsuki lost his ability to recognize faces, so he didn’t know any of the people who stared at him, but he knew what dread looks like when he sees it, and as he looked around the crowd, every single person had exactly that written all over their face.

He looked down at the guy who was still on the ground, part of his uniform’s shirt burnt, his wounded face covered by his hands and his hair smoking slightly.

Katsuki glanced at his hands and finally realized something.

or

Kacchan is still a stubborn prick while suffering from face blindness. Also, quirk discrimination is a thing.

alternatively-

New quirk, who dis

The Weight of Your Hand by kamin

That night, to the citizens, the explosions were a jolt of fear at every blast, but to the heroes and the students of UA, they were punches and swings, fierce fighting and loud strength. The explosions were the pulse of the battle, and the power of a boy that would never back down.

One after another, explosions set a chorus through the shuddering city.

And then, suddenly—the explosions stopped.

(In which Bakugou’s kidnapping goes a little differently, and just a few seconds could change so much.)

Obsidian by PullingAllMighters

Bakugou Katsuki's a dangerous guy, even without his unnatural, fae-given magic. Used and scorned as evil everywhere he goes for having powers he didn't ask for, Bakugou wanders the world as a rogue nova, hunting beasts and criminals for survival. It's too bad that the real villains didn't take it well that he's not joining their side. But now they've framed it so he's a mass murderer, making all the other magicked humans like him look bad. Hunted and ever the loner, Bakugou meets Kirishima, a dragon who's also alone and outcast, who vows to protect him until they can either clear his name, or get far enough away that it doesn't matter.

Not that Bakugou needs him. Bakugou Katsuki doesn't need anyone, especially not some broken dragon who can't even fly.

You Got Me Bewitched, I Am Under Your Spell by 🔴 Obsessed_As_A_Coping_Mechanism

“Uh… hello?” Kirishima calls, his deep voice echoing in the room.

The witch doesn’t answer.

Not one to be discouraged by silence, even if that silence is scary as hell, Kirishima steels his nerves and steps over the threshold.

THAT the male notices. He immediately stops grinding, his head tilting to an almost forty five degree angle. It’s almost cat like. It’s absolutely eerie. He hmphs, before he calls out, “Leave.” He grabs a fistful of sour smelling leaves off the plant in front of him and drops them into his bowl.

What?! No way! Kirishima advances further, the doorway creaking under his feet. He won’t take that for an answer. “I need your help?” Frick. Why did that sound like a question when it should have been a statement?

The witch doesn’t look up again, but he swears the male rolls his eyes. “Leave. Now.”

The witch is gorgeous.

I'll Save You Myself by Obsessed_As_A_Coping_Mechanism

After Kirishima saves Bakugou from the League of Villains he can't let go of his hand. He's been holding it for hours, but his fingers are cement. Unbreakable.

Otherwise called: Fuck Eijirou, I'm The One Who Got Kidnapped, Why The Hell Are You Leaking All Over Me? And... Why Does My Heart Feel Like Its Going To Throw-up? By: Bakugou Katsuki

The Extra's Club by Sonamae

Toru is a bright ray of sunshine! At least she pretends to be. Right up until Bakugo Katsuki catches her crying in the kitchen.

Life's a Drag(on) by PurplePersnickety

"Sparky," Katsuki turned and laid a hand on Kaminari's shoulder. "I need you to know that the position of Best Man at our wedding is between you and a fucking dragon, so start psyching yourself up to fight for it."

"A what?" Kaminari repeated faintly.

Bakugou Katsuki currently experiences three major problems with his life:

1. He helped a dragon with a broken leg once and now it keeps showing up outside his house all the time. 2. He has a huge hopeless crush on the guy with the red hair and the freaky teeth who just moved into the village. 3. He has no idea what to do about either of the above.

Burden of Proof by kytrin, Mslead 🔴

All it took was one bad day. Eijiro Kirishima was slotted to be one of UA's finest detectives before he was framed for a crime he didn't commit. Now he was used to people keeping him at arms length even after he scraped the remains of his reputation back together as a private investigator. When an old serial killer returns from the past, he finds himself in the center of a case darker and more dangerous than he could have ever anticipated. Teaming up with an angry homicide detective with ties to the killer, together they are forced to rely on one another as they face old and new enemies alike rising from the shadows.

All That Glitters Is Gold by Obsessed_As_A_Coping_Mechanism 🔴

Kirishima has been enamoured with the boy next door since he met him deep in the woods by his house as a kid.

Other than the fact that Bakugou never leaves the forest, won't voice his name, is nimble like a cat, and sometimes disappears into thin air, he's a normal kid just like Kiri!

Oh... and he's goregous.

And he just keeps getting prettier as time goes on.

No Secrets to Success by kingdoms

“Hey!” Kirishima says brightly, stepping sideways to be directly in the guy’s path. “I know you!”

“Fuck off,” the guy snarls, pushing past him and barely slowing down.

Kirishima is forced to start his first semester at UA two months late. Somehow he still meets Bakugou Katsuki, makes the most of those two months, and gains a tutor, a best friend, and an exciting way to scandalize his new peers. Canon AU where Kirishima and Bakugou become friends before Kirishima meets the rest of Class 1-A.

Smoke, Spice, and Everything Nice by let_me_wander 🔴

Bakugou Katsuki is a half-incubus and knows how to play the game: to find the perfect target, enchant them, and finally feed off of them. As long as certain conditions are met, no one can refuse him. Until Kirishima Eijirou.

Looks like Bakugou will have to seduce him the old fashioned way. Unless, of course, Kirishima wins him over first.

Oh My Gods by Synnie 🔴

Kirishima is overjoyed when he learns his fields have been blessed by the Harvest God, Crimson. When Bakugo, God of War, helps himself to the Harvest God's offerings, Kirishima learns a blessing from a god is also an open invitation for other gods to wreak havoc in his otherwise quiet life.

But when the gods are betrayed by one of their own, Kirishima finds himself caught up in the intrigue. All he wanted was to go back to the life he knew. But will that be enough for him now that he's tasted so much more?

Fire and the Flood by Maplefudge 🔴

Kirishima's good at massages and Bakugou's bad at feelings (they both are).

You Feel Like God Inside That Gold by Sacramental_Wine 🔴

When Kirishima figured out he was gay, he’d been pretty sure that the obsession his fellow male classmates had with boobs would not be an issue in his life.

He could get distracted by nice muscles or a great smile or many other things. He was an easily distracted guy! But those things were easy to keep blinders on for, he could keep from getting too distracted.

He hadn’t exactly planned on Bakugou.

Built to Fall by bigstupidjellyfish 🔴

nothing like an aftermath of a bad break up years later 

let me love you by arxaris 🔴

Kirishima’s liked Bakugou for years and years and never thought he’d even have a chance. Bakugou could easily become a runway model if he ever decided that’s what he wanted, while Kirishima is... well, just Kirishima.

There’s no denying he’s strong, but not in the graceful and beautiful way that Bakugou is. He’s got rolls no matter what he does, more body hair than he could ever hope to manage, and thighs that seem to constantly stretch his jeans at the seams no matter how big he buys them.

Yet, somehow within the span of the last hour, Kirishima’s gone from calling Bakugou ‘bro’ in their shared kitchen to lying underneath him in bed with Bakugou’s lean thigh pressed confidently between his thick ones.

So, yeah, forgive Kirishima if he’s freaking out a bit.

beautiful creatures by gothgirlclub 🔴

Caught in the middle of a morning accident, provisionally licensed Bakugou and Kirishima help take down the villain, only to fall victim to it’s quirk after taking it down.

So it’s really not their fault when they decide to play around with their new body parts, figuring out that scratching beneath the ears really was nice and that knots were annoying if your boyfriend got especially sleepy after sex.

alpha x alpha by Nutella0Mutt 🔴

If they had one dollar every time someone said it wasn’t possible, and to give it up, they'd be fucking billionaires.

Nobody thinks they'll work. It's unnatural, illogical, and against biology. Bakugou and Kirishima have one motto: fuck the haters.

It Will Find You Here by arxaris 🔴

Katsuki’s life was falling apart. He had always known what he wanted. He had his life and career completely planned out. He’d accounted for every detail and every potential obstacle. Except for one. He was not prepared in the slightest to be six years into his carefully constructed life plan, extremely successful, and suddenly so goddamned miserable that he couldn’t make it through a day of work.

He was fine. He really just needed some fucking time, space, and air to breathe. So, he loaded up his backpack and left Japan, hoping that a bit of time off and travel might help him get over this bullshit and on with the plan. However, a few weeks into his trip he met a meddlesome redhead in the Thai islands who threatened to disrupt his universe in the worst ways imaginable: by making him fall in love, and by breaking the news that Katsuki couldn’t outrun himself.

Burger Kings by plantegg

Bakugou does something illegal. Kirishima finds out and makes him take him out to dinner to keep him quiet.

That's All You Ever Have to Say by arxaris 🔴

Maybe a sane person wouldn’t put up with it. They’d probably call the whole thing unhealthy, say that Bakugou should learn to express his feelings. People have suggested to Kirishima in the past that he put his foot down and demand they talk about things. They’ve gritted their teeth as they told him Bakugou was playing games with him, looked at him with pity as if they were cluing him into something everyone knew but him, something truly awful. But of course Kirishima knew. How could he not? Katsuki wasn’t just playing games with him. They were playing games together.

And Kirishima was positively addicted to them.

Rutting For You by FoolishFortuna 🔴

Kirishima’s scent washed over him as the redhead moved to slide into bed and Katsuki found his mouth watering. For fuck sake, why was his body being such an asshole all of a sudden? He swallowed.

“Uh, Bakugou?” Eijirou's voice was quiet, almost rough, “You're putting out a pretty strong scent.” There was a tone to his best friend's voice that he'd never heard before, and it sent a shiver through Katsuki as he fisted the duvet in his hand tighter and ground his teeth.

His gums ached.

“Its nothing, shut up.” He focused on getting his pheromones under control quickly. Fuck, he really wanted to bite something. Something that smelled like Eijirou. He swallowed another mouthful of saliva.

“Do you-” Kiri swallowed as well, “d’you wanna just sleep up here?”

Why Don't We Dance a While? by Sacramental_Wine 🔴

They were supposed to be directly fighting each other but with one of them playing a villain, encouraged to fight dirty and think on their feet to fight against an unlikely team-up. It was supposed to test the solo “villain’s” ability to think on their feet and anticipate while the team was being evaluated on their ability to adapt to on the fly quirk combinations and unlikely situations. Some of them, like Momo and Sato and Aoyama, struggled a bit more than others with the villain role.

Others were shockingly good at it. Ochako had been having a blast the entire time, Iida continued to excel, and Tokoyami had played up his own more spooky allure.

Kirishima was among one of the good ones.

Something Warm by let_me_wander

When an annoying customer with ridiculous hair starts frequenting the coffee shop Bakugou works at in the weeks before Christmas, he doesn't think much of it. Until it becomes all he can think about.

Awkward flirting, the first snow, a rock show, and probably way too much coffee.

Okay, so let me take this back to a week or two ago.

I owe one of my roommates 1200 dollars. My rent is 800 bills included. I make ten dollars over what counts for me getting no food stamps of financial assistance. I kept going to this job, because i was hoping that an opening would soon happen for me to get a job that i had before the closure of the other location. The explanation of this, in order to make it remotely interesting, would be a story in and of itself and would take too long.

I have had a rough go of it. I fell back into an eating disorder this winter, i went to home feeling sick and cold and heartbroken. Every night. I was completely isolated, i never went to anyone's house, i stopped even seeing a future for myself. the best days i had were ones where i would walk around the mall and stare at clothing i couldn't afford. Because the guy i was in love with randomly flipped on me one morning and told me to leave. I felt completely used, and gross about myself, and i just stopped eating. My bus home always took an hour and a half, i was shaking starving and so fucking poor that even if i wanted to eat more i couldn't afford it. I wanted to cry on the bus after work every night, but i forced myself to choke it down. I listened to last podcast on the left constantly to entertain myself. I texted him even though he had hurt me, and he ran back and apologized after, but somehow it was never the same. I'm not even mad. It just wasn't the same.

Anyway, i snapped about three weeks ago. I woke up, did my budget, and realize the reason i was having such a hard time was that i was literally not making enough money. Everything was about suppression and reduction of needs, to the point where i had very few enjoyments, and i was becoming so lonely i was becoming neurotic. And the more neurotic and lonely i became, i feel like the less people would want to hang out with me. After awhile, any attention i got from this guy was better than nothing. If i didn't have someone that paid some attention to me i was losing my will to even get up in the morning. Because what is the point of getting up for nothing, to do another day that makes you sad, with no purpose or friends? I felt like i was withering away, and nobody would even notice when i was finally just gone. I mean, maybe that is for the best, but i don't know. I feel like the initial love i poured into coming to this city has become dark and uncertain, and i miss the early days a lot. I feel like i am always chasing a feeling, that i am whatever chemical combination is hitting my neurotransmitters.

I made the decision to find a better job, realizing I wasn't going to get out of this mess unless i had money to at least rid myself of the basic and constant fear of not having enough. I'm tired of being in debt. So, i kinda did that. I ended up getting offered this job, and i just let myself run around with my money moreso, for the last few weeks with the mindset that i would have at least seven hundred more a month. I stopped dieting (unfortunately gaining back some weight). It's not that i don't need to diet, but i need something to distract myself if i am going to run around shaking with hunger all the time. I can't live on self hatred, at least not for too long.

Then, the covid 19 virus just started spreading, and at first it was nothing, but then i kind of turned into this thing where sickly people are going down in numbers.  And now nobody is going to hire me because all restaurants are closed and the economy fell apart and everyone is pretty scared, i got laid off from the place i work at now, which i feel like it's not even going to reopen at this point. Thousands of workers in the city just like me now have no way to pay their rent, meanwhile the hospitals will likely continue to fill with patients, and grocery stores are half empty, and this is just a small taste of what the future likely holds. So even when this virus comes and goes and does it's damage, i think things like this are just going to keep happening. And rich people will be fine, but poor people won't be. I mean, funny memes aside. Our entire economic system and healthcare system and so many things are going to collapse in my lifetime, it seems futile to even try to make it now. I know that sounds really pesimistic.

The last few weeks i have been meeting him in secret, but he's not really cuddly like before, and he seems like he wants me to be gone when he's done with me, and he dotes on his other friends and I just feel very taken for granted and when we are with our friends who aren't supposed to know, i just don't feel like someone he's that excited to be around. And he seems to engage in conversation, but with me he just kind of talks over me to imply i am dumb, and i get tired of that. Honestly, there is nothing endearing about it. It's insulting and tiring and i am so deeply worried about the world around me, that even my own heartbreak seems like nothing. I am genuinely very scared about the state of the world, and even an idea relationship would not save me from this. Like, yeah, i feel really used and hurt, but also we are losing animal species and the ocean is polluted and there is a pandemic, and overpopulation in certain areas of the world that are going to be swallowed by global warming. Sometimes this train of thought takes me into an entire three sixty because i wonder if it isn't just best to enjoy every person and experience for what it is because my life might not give me that much to look forward to in the future, and there is only so much i can do to fix the world or the people in it. Do i really want to put my foot down and tell him i don't want to see him anymore, when he's the only person i have, and i know too that he struggles with addiction?

Furthermore, my brother panicked and lost his mind and went on attack towards my sister who he was living with, and now he's moving back with my abusive parents. That's a whole story in and of itself. And that is that. I won't be seeing him anymore. He was so scared about economic and societal collapse. And then my workplace wrote me and said they don't have money to even give me my last paycheck, and i am lucky that my old dad is working overtime at the factory to send me money. Honestly, i was panicked before, but now i just feel resigned and afraid. It helps that there is no way i can get evicted right now, but at this point i just have a bad feeling that things are just going to keep getting worse.

I feel like poor people are being spread too thin, and it's going to eventually create a sense of rage. It's been happening for a long time. They just keep cutting programs, or making it harder to afford rent, or go to school. For instance, i have a friend who is an ambulance driver. He makes twelve dollars an hour, he's literally scraped up dead children off the side of the road, but he doesn't get free healthcare. If he ends up on the other end of his ambulance van he's fucked. It's stuff like this that is unbelievable. You'd think someone with his job of all people would be more than entitled to free healthcare, not that we all don't, but like, it might come with some benefits given he works in the industry and the level of seriousness his job entails. But there aren't any. And truly, he doesn't even make as much hourly as someone who works in a restaurant. It's nonsense. And it's accepted. And we need ambulance drivers.

Anyway, there is a lot that branches off. I don't know what direction i should go in, the mental health aspect of myself, or my family dynamics, the economy, the healthcare industry, my personal strifes, my conflicting relationship stuff, or what the future holds. All i can say is i feel terribly alone and terribly scared and it's hard to articulate it or feel grounded in myself at all. Sometimes it's like a numbness that tells you to keep pushing forward because it's the routine and it's supposed to lead to somewhere, right? I feel like in the last year, i am learning how to put my foot down and say no. I am learning to love people and know i am not loved back, and not even care anymore. I am also exhausted. When i am not around people, i fall asleep. A mysterious exhaustion i have never had before has taken over and i really just want to sleep for days and days straight, and some little part of me just wonders if it wouldn't be better if i didn't wake up again. I am not suicidal, but what's the point?

And I guess lastly, who am I to even complain? So many people have had it worse and now everyone is falling apart and struggling around me, so I am nothing special. It’s just hard to know what to do right now. There seems to be no distraction from the nothingness of it all.