#'as annoying as they are' she might sniff

[maedaeme]

bought a little cat tree to put next to my bed and it went over way better than I thought

[xervn]

like a french girl 🎨

part 1 - paint me | part 2 | art major ellie x dance major reader | ellie photo

ao3 link

summary: ellie had been struggling with finding the perfect model for her art final. that was until she saw you.

18+ MDNI | 2.2k words | tags; college au, pining, only a little explicit, no use of y/n, not proofread

disclaimer: not an art or dance major, don't shoot!

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Scribble, scratch, throw. This has been Ellie’s routine since she moved onto campus.

Why? Her professor told her that she draws the human body like it’s lifeless. Ranting about how they’re too one-dimensional and have no depth, her lines are too sharp or not sharp enough; flat and boring in looks and in feeling. 

Now listen, Ellie has nothing against criticism. She respects her professor and she’s aware that her drawings lack “vitality”. It’s been something she’s struggled with for a while now, an effect of some recent events and overall adjusting to college life. 

Ellie isn’t unable to grasp the anatomy of the body, in fact it’s the opposite. She knows the human body is complex and needs thorough observation. The way the sun hits the skin, the hairs on a knuckle, the creases of a smile. Wide, small, big, tall; no two bodies are exactly the same. 

Really, the imagery is so clear to her, but she finds it impossible to transfer the life and motion of the body onto a piece of paper without truly understanding the person. The way she sees it, every body has a story, and in order to make a good piece she needs to know that story.

Since art school is filled to the brim with inspiring, exciting, and vibrant people, she has, of course, tried to talk with them. She attempted to get to know the models, ask them general questions and hope something clicks. Unfortunately, that has yet to happen. She can’t really ask her friends either without it getting awkward. Imagine, “ Oh, hey guys! Can you guys get naked and pose in one spot for my homework?”   Hear how weird that sounds? Even though she’s sure Jesse would definitely be down, she values her eyes.

 Any “muse” she could possibly ever want was right in front of her, so why was it really impossible for her to find one?

 Well, because Ellie didn’t find anyone interesting enough. She’s not shallow or anything, it has nothing to do with how the model looked, Ellie has had several good-looking models. It was more about how she perceived them. It’s just that she hasn’t seen a model that made her ask questions like: “ How’d they get that scar?”  “ What does that tattoo mean?” Stuff like that.

The last interesting model she had was probably a fucking homeless guy she shared a blunt with outside a gas station many moons ago. Till this day, he might be one of her best pieces. There’s not a lot of moments like that here.

Nonetheless, Ellie saw this developing– extremely lame— personal requirement of hers annoying as shit. It’s holding her back big time, but she couldn’t help it even if she really wanted to.

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It’s practically useless to keep trying. The tiny voice in Ellie's head presses her to keep going, keep failing, but enough is enough. She is seriously burnt out and any more of this might kill her. The only thing that could help right now is a meaty slice of pizza and a blunt as soon as she thought of it.

Ellie clears out her desk, knocking the stack of crumpled paper into a conveniently placed trash can; a placement made from her constant trials and errors. She pushes up, and stretches widely, obnoxiously groaning like an old man by the end of it. She quickly tidied herself up, tying up half of her hair into a ponytail and throwing on a dark-green flannel shirt she had to sniff before wearing over her plain white tee. She takes a quick look into her floor-length mirror, making sure she looks presentable before grabbing what she needs to head out.

Just as her hand reached for the silver knob, Ellie felt this overwhelming urge to look back. God, she knows what she is going to look back at, but she really hopes she doesn’t. Unfortunately, her eyes land on her sketchbook, laid flat on the desk underneath a lamp’s warm light. She shouldn’t.

She needs a break. She knows she needs a break, but there is a twinge of hope, faith, lodged somewhere inside her. The same faith that’s kept her from dropping out every day for the past four months. Ellie groans as she drags her feet to her desk where she whisks up the brown book and shoves it in her tote bag with an accompanying pencil. She swivels back to the door and strolls out, silently praying her mood improves in the next hour.

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The cafeteria was surprisingly crowded, but Ellie managed to get her pizza without saying ‘fuck it’ to the line. Still, the thought of eating between this buzzing mess when she was in such a shitty mood turned her off. Thankfully, she knew that everyone would be everywhere but the upstairs balcony, especially during this chilly time of year. No sane person would eat out there, and she’s not particularly sane. Ellie saunters off to the balcony and sits herself at a small table facing the view.

It only took a glance around before she came to the realization that the view is not really a view. There’s only a dorm a few feet away, directly across. It’s a large brick-laid, generic building with wide windows. If it weren’t for the blinds, the view into a room would probably be good enough to read a label on something. Ellie’s freckled face grimaces at the thought, imagining what it’d be like if someone watched her rage as she messed up her homework over and over from this distance. Despite that, she thought it’d probably be a pretty good spot to live in. It’s close to the cafeteria and probably a lot bigger than her 1x1 dorm.

With a twinge of curiosity piquing her mind, Ellie glimpses over the windows, and for the most part, they are all closed.

All closed, but yours.

Yours doesn’t even have blinds. You’re on the 3rd floor and almost completely unobscured in a black camisole, sitting on your questionably roomy windowsill with a leg perched up. Ellie can see the fairy lights strung up in your bedroom, and a line of succulents closer to the window; ordered by size, which she briefly thought was cute. 

You aren’t facing the window, so she can only see your back. What she could see, though, is you doing your hair, occasionally swaying to what she can only imagine is music. Your room is high, but low enough for her to identify you if she had the pleasure of knowing you. Knowing you, reverberates in her head. Does she know you? Has she met you before? Amongst that babble, there is one more question she is slowly trying to gather an answer to. 

Time passes, most definitely shorter than Ellie would have thought passed. Her eyes have been glued on you the whole time, she even forgot about her, now freezing cold, pizza just so she could gawk at you. She still hasn’t seen your face yet, barely even a glimpse, but she already thinks you are stupidly beautiful just by the way you move.

From the graciousness of your movements alone, she thought there was no way in hell you didn’t know she was watching. At some point, your arms got tired, so you smoothly rolled your aching shoulders back; stretching into an arched, effortlessly perfect posture. Ellie’s eyes traced that slight curve of your back as if you’d disappear if she broke off from you.

There is no way it gets better from that, is what she thinks to herself, only to be shut up immediately after when she sees that perfectness of your back stay as you bend over and shift onto both knees to grab something far away, bringing your shorts in view. So short— so tight , they could easily be mistaken for panties. 

It was unexpected to say the least, Ellie could feel her face heating up and had to look around her to see if anyone else could see what she was seeing right now. Ellie wondered about the practicality of those shorts, wondered what exactly they were supposed to cover, leering at the plush of your ass peeking out. She thoughtlessly lets her jaw drop before muttering out a low, impressed, and barely over a whisper, “Well, fuck.”

You must’ve noticed your shorts riding up, since you quickly pulled them down after you grabbed what you wanted. Ellie clears her throat, internally scolding herself for being so gross— so perverted. Her brows furrow in embarrassment from all the dirty thoughts she brewed up in that moment. But for some reason, she still doesn’t look away. Well, there’s a list of reasons for her to look away, but she feels like ignoring it. 

Then a cold gust of wind bites past her face, clearly a sign from the universe that she should snap out of it, and snap out of it she does. 

What the hell happened to her? What is it about you that she keeps leaning into? Suddenly something clicks in her brain. After months of creative agony, something finally clicked. She has sat here completely fascinated by you and she couldn’t tell sooner?

In all honesty, to say she is just “interested” in you would be an understatement. Yeah, now she thinks you’re the perfect model for her final, but she wants to know you beyond just the drawing. A plus is that you just happened to be hot, and Ellie has never been attracted to a subject before, so the whole thing was new and exciting to her. Just the thought of drawing you made her remember why she loved art so much.  Ellie reaches for her tote bag sitting in an empty seat beside her, pulling out her sketchbook with more enthusiasm than she probably ever has. She sets the book down, opening up a blank page with one hand and tightening her grip on her pencil in the other.

She looks back up at your window, ready to sketch your life onto paper and..  Shit. You’re looking back.

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Today has been a good day for you, your teacher chose  you to teach the choreo you’ve been working on for weeks to your classmates. It was an obvious ego booster for you. You felt good and you wanted to look good too, even if you weren’t going out anywhere. It was just one of those nights. You wanted to experiment with your hair, thinking maybe you’ll do something new before your next practice. Dye it, cut it.. something.

It’s been a while since you started, and after several wrist and shoulder cramps, you were finally finished. You take a look into your hand mirror, peering at your reflection. You’re satisfied now, looking exactly how you’re feeling if you minus the dingy sleep clothes you’re in. 

♫ My heart, I never be, I never see, I never know. ♫

Grimes? Really? You pout, upset that your playlist didn’t magically read your mood. What you need is real 2000’s hot girl music. Britney Spears, Nelly Furtado, or Beyoncé for crying out loud.

“Alexa, skip!” You shout across the room, just loud enough for the device to hear. 

The stupid thing doesn’t even light up, so you call out a few more times but to no avail. Isn’t the whole point of that thing to be voice automated? You sigh and look around for your phone, and seeing it’s nowhere in front of you, you figure it’s behind. You twist your torso to find your phone behind you and luckily you do. As you pick it up, you casually glance out the window without any expectations. 

Did you see a figure in the blur as you looked away? You question your eyes, but you decide to take another look and just find out for yourself.

You peer back down and your eyes meet with someone else’s. The sudden eye contact between you and this woman instantly mortified you. Your heart sunk, and all you could do was raise your brows stupidly. She was surprised too, even in the dim light you could see her shocked expression boring back at you. Not only that, it went on for way longer than it should have. Any normal person would’ve looked away, but her eyes lingered on you before she hastily turned away. 

You’ve been sitting here, dressing up your hair, listening to your music without a care in the world. Far too absorbed in yourself to realize there’s someone outside your window. You slide off your windowsill and out of sight. Just as your bottom finally hits the wood floor, you feel the coldness of it against your skin and you’re immediately conscious of the fact that your ass was literally out at some point. 

The poor girl was trying to eat her food and you were bending over in front of your window like a harlot. It certainly didn’t help that she looked kinda hot. Did she? You peeked over your windowsill, hoping to get another look to really assess her hotness, but she was already gone. Whatever, maybe she didn’t see? But she looked embarrassed… embarrassed for you probably!

You hide your face in your hands and topple to the side, letting out a fake sob. Oh, god. You can already imagine Dina’s face when you tell her. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that thought. That was humiliating as shit, but it’s whatever. It’s not like you’ll see her again. 

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side note: if you have any tropes you'd like to see w/ this universe pls do drop an ask 🤭

click 4 more!

[mediumgayitalian]

“Death Breath! Hey! Wait up!”

Nico bolts. He makes it about ten feet away from his cabin door before Will and his stupid long legs catch up with him, throwing an arm over his shoulder and then immediately tripping over his own foot and sending them both sprawling.

“I hate you,” Nico groans, curling up on the grass.

It’s too early for any of this. He was just trying to get back at Cecil for covering everything he owned in aluminum foil last week — and then he was going to go right the hell back to bed.

He knew he should have fucking shadow travelled.

“Aw, c’mon. You love me.”

Nico pretends to gag. The only thing he gets is Will’s crossed arms and raised eyebrow, so he doubles down and really starts to retch. Whatever. It’s eight thirty in the morning. He fell asleep at five. Rational thinking is a distant, distant memory.

“Whenever you’re done.”

“I will be sick at the thought for the next eight weeks,” Nico informs him. For dramatic effect, he looks up at Will’s face — which he cant even see, since the sun’s in his eyes — and shudders.

“You know, you have a genuine, beautiful talent for the dramatic arts, the likes of which I have never seen. Are you sure you’re not secretly an Apollo kid?”

I better not be, ‘cause then all the staring I do at your calves would be real weird, he thinks to himself, then considers whether he can convince Kayla to give him a lobotomy. He thinks she might like the opportunity.

“Piss off,” he says instead of that, artfully schooling his face into the aristocratic mask he’s perfected from his father, squaring his shoulders and looking at Will like he’s a pebble lodged in the flesh of his heel.

Will rolls his eyes. “Get up, Sharpay Evans. You’re gonna stain your shirt worse than you already have.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “My shirt is perfectly fine, thank you very much. I order them in black for a reason.”

He notices a giant grass stain on the side when he stands. He ignores it. Will does not.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the Goth King.”

“Ghost King.”

“Right, right. That helps your case.”

Nico shoves him, fighting back a grin. “Whatever, Solace. What are you bothering me for?”

“Oh, yeah!”

Nico is a deeply cheesy person. Down to the core of him, past all the sarcasm and prickliness and trauma, or whatever, he’s made of fucking mozzarella, because what business does he have comparing Will’s eyes to the morning winter sky? Huh? That’s embarrassing. It isn’t even original. If Nico caught anyone saying shit like that out loud in real life, he’s collapse into the shadows from embarrassment. He needs electroshock therapy.

“I was thinking —”

“Rare,” Nico quips, just to watch Will’s eyebrow twitch. It does. Nico smiles.

“I was thinking,” he repeats, mocking glare in Nico’s direction, “that you and me go to the city this afternoon.”

“You chased me across camp for that?”

“Oh, please, Zombie Face. I chased you maybe twenty yards.”

“I think all that time sniffing rubbing alcohol has deteriorated your brain.”

“I think I’m going to shove you in the lake.”

“Feel free to try. You will not wake up the next morning.”

“Nah.” Will shoots him a smug smile. Nico trips over air. “I can be as annoying as I want and you still won’t kill me. I have impunity.”

Nico rolls his eyes, refusing to dignify that with an answer. The less he acknowledges his own shame, the more likely it will go away on its own. Probably.

“Anyways. Guess what Cecil told me today.”

“His last will and testament?” Nico guesses, suddenly remembering his reason for being up this early.

“No, no, not that.” Will pauses. “Well, I mean, he did. I passed it on to Chiron. He has requested that when you maul him, you avoid his face, because he wants to be a sexy corpse and he can’t do that if you destroy his prettiest features.”

“Noted. Please inform him I will come for him within a window of the next fifteen hours.”

Theres a very particular face Will makes when he finds something genuinely funny. A smile a little more crooked than his regular one, teeth working at his bottom lip to hold it back, left dimple appearing in his cheek. It makes Nico want to do stupid things like press his thumb into said divot. He instead shoves his hands deeply into his pockets.

“I’ll let him know.” He clears his throat. “Anyways. You know what day it is today?”

Nico squints. “Tues…day? No, Wednesday.” He glances at Will. It’s been maybe….three days since their weekly sleepover? No, fuck, four. He thinks. “Thursday. Final answer.”

“Monday,” Will corrects, “and, gods, you need to sleep more. And a calendar. But no, that’s not my point.”

“Feel free to get to it.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Will finally explains. He tries for exasperated, but it doesn’t work — he’s clearly excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet and waving his hands. “And The Five Seasons is doing half off for couples, so you and I need to go!”

He waves his hands, as if tying off some grand reveal. His (blue blue blue blue) eyes are squeezed nearly shut by the force of his beam, which lessons slightly with every second Nico does not respond.

“William,” he says finally. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “William.”

Will pouts. “What?”

“Explain how this is relevant to me, William.”

“Aw, c’mon, Nico! Don’t be difficult!”

“William,” stresses Nico again. “We are not a couple. Did you hit your head again?”

“Well, duh, Neeks, it’s about the scam!” He flaps his hand in a way Nico assumes is meant to convey something. “We’re gonna — eat! Cheap! By pretending to be a couple!” Now both hands are flopping, paired with wide, imploring eyes. “Obviously!”

“Obviously,” Nico repeats, slowly. He instructs one half of his brain to keep its focus on not melting into a puddle of blushing embarrassed goo, and the other to exercise restraint and not strangle the boy in front of him. A headache begins to press behind his eyes. “Will, what the shit.”

“You of all people!” Will throws his hands up. “You love scamming people! You hate corporate holidays! You frequently throw pebbles at people who look, and I quote, too obnoxiously happy! You’re the best hater I know! You should be on board!”

He makes a compelling point. Not that Nico is going to make that easy for him.

“You seem very invested in this,” Nico points out. He manages to keep his voice tastefully judgmental, which he’s very proud of.

“Of course I am! I want cheap Five Seasons food, godsdammit!” He pauses, switching tactics. “Nico,” he says softly. He puts a gently hand on Nico’s forearm, making him freeze. He is suddenly very, very close, and wow, did his hair always frame his face in gentle waves? Has that always been a thing? “I really, really want to scam a restaurant with you.” He smiles, small and crooked and gods, Will doesn’t look dangerous very often, but holy Hades when he does — “Will you make my Valentines, and scam a restaurant with me?”

His fingers begin to trace little circles in the inside of Nico’s wrist.

“Yes,” he squeaks, voice cracking.

“Yes!” Will cheers, pulling his fist. “Yes, hell yes, Nico! We are going to scam the shit out of this restaurant! Half off for couples? How about half off for heathens! Free money, baby! Fuck yeah!”

He turns back towards Nico, smile still wide and radiant, blinking eyes pools of sparkling excitement. Nico’s knees go a little weak. “I’ll come get you at 2! Thank you, Neeks!”

He runs off back to his cabin, only tripping twice. Nico watches him go, feeling a little like he’s tripping, too, with all the swooping his stomach is doing.

“Dude,” he mumbles to himself, shaking his head. “Be normal. Christo.”

It takes him ten straight minutes to get back to his cabin, even though he’s standing at the porch.

———

The obsidian handle of the Hades’ cabin door rattles.

“Neeks!” calls a voice behind the door, “you ready to go?”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Nico scrambles over to the mirror and stares at himself. He turns a little to the left. He scowls. “Shit!” Tugging the shirt off, he turns back to his closet, tossing the piece of clothing to join the rest of its brethren on the floor. “Shitfuck. Fuckshit. Shit.”

“Nico!”

“Coming!”

Tapping his foot rapidly, he looks harder, as if that will magically make the right shirt pop into existence, perfectly pressed, on a hanger. “Shit.”

“What could possibly be taking so long? You’ve had two hours!”

“I care about my appearance, Mr Flip Flops and Scrubs!”

“Bleh bleh! Hurry up!”

Nico bites his lip. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t, really. Five Seasons is not actually a fancy restaurant. He and Will just like to joke that it is, because it has tablecloths. They’ve gone there dozens of times before; they stop every time they’re in the city for supply runs or visits to Olympus or to harass their summer-only friends at school. There is literally no reason for Nico to be stressing about what stupid shirt he should wear. Gods know Will is wearing cargo shorts.

“Nico!”

“I’m coming!“

Scowling, he digs through the pile of discarded clothes until he finds the first shirt he’d put on — a dark green button up that was given to him, along with a bunch of other fancy clothes he never wears, by the Aphrodite cabin. He hastily shoves their buttons through their holes, cursing when he mixes them up and has to start over, and sprints over to the mirror to inspect himself.

The shirt looks good. It’s a little tight on the arms, which he suspects was on purpose, and the colour compliments his skin nicely. The buttons are a dark, shiny brown that match his eyes. They pair nice with his simple jeans and black vans, casual enough that he doesn’t look like he’s going to Prom, or anything stupid like that, but dressy enough that it looks like he put effort in. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to make the staticky strands sit right, but gives up pretty quickly. It’s okay if one thing is a little messy, right?

“Finally,” huffs Will as the door swings open. He glances Nico up and down, then grins. “You look great.”

Nico was right. He is indeed wearing cargo shorts, although to his credit they are his one pair without various Head Medic stains. His sweater, too, is a pretty blue, V-necked, long-sleeved, and a completely different style than his shorts. It clashes horribly. His shoes are, for some reason, bright solid pink. Nico suspects Hecate magic. His hair is braided in two French braids, his favourite way to wear it. Nico believes he is also wearing a touch of sparkly eyeshadow.

“You look dorky.”

Will grins wider. “Thank you! I wouldn’t let anyone help me choose something.”

“You should have.”

“I wanted it to be authentic, Nico. Also, got something for you.” From behind his back, he pulls out a handful of daisies, black dirt clinging to their roots, like he plucked them straight from the ground. Nico is inexplicably endeared by the image, and prays the smile on his face is less soft than he knows it is.

“You got me flowers?”

“Well, duh, Avril Lavigne. We gotta sell the scam.”

Nico brings them close to his face and inhales deeply. They smell fresh and earthy and sweet.

“That’s a stupid reason to bring someone flowers.”

“Give them back, then.”

“No. Fuck off. They’re mine.”

Will’s eyes twinkle. “Okay.” He holds out his arm. “Ready to go?”

The jump is close enough that Nico can convince him to shadow travel, and not just because he sadistically looks forward to the shade of green Will’s face will get after. As dangerous as he knows it can be, he misses it, sometimes. There’s something comforting about it, something soothing and familiar. Shadow travelling to the restaurant eases any lingering nerves.

“If you’re gonna throw up, do it somewhere I can’t hear you,” he says as they materialize in an alley.

Will’s cheeks puff out. “I’m gonna do it on your fuckin’ shoes.”

“I will leave your ass here, Solace, I swear to the gods.” Despite his grumbling, he rests a cool hand on the back of Will’s neck until he’s recovered. “Good?”

“Yeah.” He straightens, dusting off his sweater. “Let’s go.”

Nico follows him down the alley and onto the street, elbowing past the crowd of pedestrians until they approach the familiar glass doors. He rolls his eyes fondly every time Will apologizes to someone.

“You need to be meaner.”

Will sticks his tongue out and tries to trip him. Unfortunately, he only manages to throw himself off balance, nearly crashing to the floor of Nico hadn’t caught him.

“Good gods, Solace.”

“That was your fault!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The doors of the restaurant are absolutely plastered in cheesy red hearts and bows and cartoon kisses. And, as promised, a giant sign promising couples a fifty percent discount on their meals.

“My love,” says Will dramatically, holding out a hand, “shall we?”

Nico sighs, resting his hand delicately in Will’s. It sparks with electricity, like it always does. “I suppose.”

“Party pooper.”

“I’m not hearing oh, Nico, thank you so much for doing this incredibly stupid thing with me, you are my dearest friend and I owe you one. Or three, for some reason.”

Will’s mouth twitches. “Oh, Nico, thank you so much for —”

Nico shoves him, laughing. “Shut up.”

They’re seated pretty quickly, server smiling when they take notice of their clasped hands. Will orders chicken tenders, like he does every single time without fail, and water. Nico orders from the adult menu and absolutely does not make any kind of show about it.

“There is nothing babyish about chicken tendies.”

“Oh, of course not.”

“Is this about you having a credit card? That does not make you more adult than me. It makes you a nepo baby.”

“Mhm. Sure thing.”

“Nobody likes a nepo baby, Nico.”

“Look, I think your drink comes with a complimentary sippy cup.”

Teasing and joking with Will is so easy that Nico forgets the core of their mission. The pink garlands hanging from the ceiling fade into the background — he’s too busy crying with laughter when Will nearly chokes to death on a french fry, too busy flicking a forkful of food at his shoulder just to make him shriek, too busy kicking his shin under the table. He catches Nico’s foot between his the fourth time he tries it, keeping it trapped for the rest of the meal. Nico finds he doesn’t mind.

“And your bill,” says their server when they’re done, setting down a slip of paper. “Forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but do you two qualify for today’s discount?”

Will smirks widely. “We do,” he says, with no small amount of pleasure. He shoots Nico the least subtle wink of all time. Nico rolls his eyes, cheeks going a little pink.

“Great! You guys have a wonderful Valentine’s day.”

“You, too.”

The server hurries away, turning to their other tables. Will’s smile is wide and smug.

“I knew it would work.”

“Duh. Easiest scam in the world, Solace.”

He sticks his tongue out. “And thus the best payout. You’re welcome.”

“Blah, blah. Gimme the bill.”

“Um, no way, di Angelo. I’m paying.”

He opens his wallet before Nico can stop him, mouthing as he counts the bills.

“What? No! I’m paying.”

“Are not.”

“Am too!”

“Are not.” He sets down a couple twenties. Nico snatches them right back up. “You we’re just complaining about my credit card!”

“Exactly. Thus my need to continue to pretend you don’t have one, so we can continue our friendship.”

“Solace, I swear to the gods.”

“di Angelo, I swear to the gods.”

Nico stares him down. Will stares back. He doesn’t even try to hide his lazy grin, his laughing eyes.

“You’re not paying for this by yourself,” Nico says firmly. “You don’t have a job. My father invented being rich.”

“Sure, but I made you come with me.”

“Ugh!” Nico throws his hands up, imagining how satisfying it would be to wrap his hands around that long neck (followed by his teeth and his tongue and his —). “Why are you impossible? I would’ve gone with you no matter what, stupid!”

As soon as he says it he wants to stick his head in wet cement. For a brief second, something like surprise flits across Will’s face, before he schools it back into his teasing smirk.

“Well, obviously, Death Breath. I’m excellent company.”

“You’re literally the most annoying person I know.”

“And yet here you are, hanging out with me, of your own volition.”

“…I’m paying next time.”

Will grins. “Whatever you say.”

They walk around the city for a while before heading back to camp. Will says it’s because he needs the air, Nico knows it’s because he wants him to rest a little longer before trying to shadow travel again. He tries not to let himself get all melty inside.

(Nobody willingly hangs out around the city for the ‘air’. He’s a shit liar. Nico should be offended.)

It’s nearing curfew by the time they melt back out from behind Thalia’s tree, extra shadows of early evening making the trip easier.

“Those fries are going to make a reappearance,” Will grimaces.

“Not if you don’t want me to kick you in the face.”

“You’d never.”

He would indeed never. But he would rather pass away than admit it, so.

“C’mon, dot face. It’s getting late. You have a cabin to run.”

“Oh, Nico,” Will says in a breathy falsetto, “are you walkin’ me to my cabin? How chivalrous!”

“Nevermind.”

“No no no no no I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Nico allows himself to be tugged, weak to Will’s giggles. “Walk me to my cabin. C’mon.”

Sighing, as if he’s so put out, Nico does. Some point in between Thalia’s tree and the amphitheater, Will’s hand slides down from around his wrist to tangled in between his fingers. Coincidentally, his mouth goes dry.

As they approach the Apollo cabin, Will slows to a stop.

“Hey.” He squeezes their fingers together, smile soft in the dying light of dawn. “I had fun today. Thank you for coming with me.”

Nico swallows. One day, those words will be said in a different context, if everything goes well for Nico, and he’s not sure how the hell he’s going to handle it without bursting into flame. “Yeah, well. Anything to scam a restaurant.”

“Right.”

They walk the last few steps to the cabin, rickety porch steps creaking under their feet as they approach the open door. Will doesn’t let go.

“Hey, Nico.”

“…Yeah?”

Quick as a flash, Will leans in and presses the softest of kisses to his mouth. The noise Nico makes is practically punched out of his lungs, spine going rigid in surprise.

“You can pay for our next date, okay?”

He’s gone before Nico can respond, ducking into his cabin with a small smile and closing the door behind him. Nico stands there, like an idiot, for three solid minutes at the very least, distantly aware of the giggles coming through the open window.

His hand comes up, fingers brushing his bottom lip.

“The little fucker set me up.”

Valentine’s day scam. Please. The only scam today was the scam of Will’s sneaky asking.

Nico smiles.

“You’re a mess, Solace!” he shouts, knowing damn well Will is listening.

He’s right. “Goodnight, Nico!”

Shaking his head, Nico runs back to his cabin, entire body tingling and cheeks aching with his grin.

[wheres-mylove]

damsel in distress | sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

Summary: Sihtric arrives in Winchester for Aethelflaed’s wedding, and finds a princess for himself by the way - the bride’s younger sister with a feisty temper and an overpowering desire to break Aethelred's nose. But there’s a little more to the story than just that.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language!

Word count: 2.9k

The young warrior stared at the ground, not daring to look his lord in the eye. He had warned him. Everyone had.

“She's gone?” Uhtred asked, trying out a sympathetic tone, realizing it was not the time to mock his friend's misplaced feelings.

“Yes, my lord,” Sihtric confirmed quietly. “The silver too, before you question me about it. Gone with her.”

“No woman, no silver,” Uhtred summarized and crossed his arms over his chest. “Just so we're clear, I would have agreed to the marriage. Suffer if you're foolish. But not for too long. You need to find someone decent.”

“We would have named our first son Uhtred, lord,” he said, absentmindedly staring ahead.

“No, you would not,” the older warrior replied, visibly grimacing.

“It doesn't matter now,” Sihtric muttered, earning a comforting pat on the shoulder and a reassuring smile from Uhtred.

“Find Finan, we'll meet in the main square.”

Sihtric Kjartansson walked gloomily ahead, pondering why he had such bad luck in life. He took out his anger on a few pebbles scattered on the dusty road. The gods were not too kind when it came to sending him a woman who...

“Sorry, sorry!” He heard a girl's voice behind him and several other irritated grunts or a hushed 'Watch out.' He turned his head slightly and it was a miracle he avoided colliding with a cloaked figure in a visible hurry.

“If you'll excuse me, lord,” the girl quickly spoke, not even bothering to give him a passing glance, squeezing past him and running into a narrow passage between a stable and a nearby dwelling.

Sihtric furrowed his brow and observed the stranger leaning against the wall, anxiously looking towards the main street. With her slightly tilted hood, he was certain she was a young woman, clearly running away from something or someone.

What was he if not a hero?

“My lady,” he began, but faltered at the sight of her angry gaze.

“Are you crazy? Go away,” she snapped, waving her hand at him dismissively. The hood fell back, revealing the girl's face in all its glory.

Sihtric didn't know what to do. The lady was beautiful. But also pissed off.

“God, you idiot,” the girl said with a heavy sigh. Then she grabbed his arm forcefully, pulling him into a dark alley with her and positioning him with his back to the street.

Sihtric still didn't quite understand what was happening. Being pushed around by a mad gorgeous woman was not part of his plans for today. He didn't have any plans at all since the last one ran off with the remnants of his wealth.

“If someone is hiding, they have a reason for it and don't want someone standing in front of them, announcing it to the world,” she scolded him like a disobedient child, and Sihtric felt himself blushing.

“Right. Makes sense. I apologize, my lady,” he stammered, not taking his eyes off her.

She was even more beautiful up close.

“Discreetly look behind you and see if a monk is coming this way,” she instructed him gravely, to which he gave her a half-surprised, half-amused look.

“A monk is leading the chase?”

“Yes, you see, I'm a witch, and I was about to be burned at the stake this afternoon.”

Sihtric chuckled softly, but he complied with her request. He thought the girl was joking, but indeed, a monk was heading their way. Slightly bewildered but definitely annoyed, he was looking around vigilantly.

“Are you really a witch?” Sihtric suddenly asked with a hint of uncertainty.

“I sacrifice boys like you,” she replied without a trace of a smile, but mischievous sparks danced in her eyes. He smirked. “But seriously, you might come in handy. The holy man won't sniff around here for long. Let’s make him look away.”

She threw her arms around his neck, and without hesitation, Sihtric placed his hands on her hips.

Only after a few heartbeats did the absurdity of the situation dawn on him. He stood very close in a dark alley with a girl whose name he didn't know, protecting her from the wrath of a monk.

“But honestly, what about your troubles?” he asked gently.

“Brother Ceolwulf sometimes gives me calligraphy lessons. My father says I scribble rather terribly. I ran away to avoid that pleasure. And apparently, Lord Aethelred is due to arrive soon,” she almost spat the name as if it left a foul taste. “Maybe I'll go see that prick. Quite a commotion over a simple farce.”

“You don't fancy lords from Mercia and royal weddings, my lady?”

The girl didn't answer; instead, she scrutinized Sihtric intently. He felt a wave of embarrassment under the piercing gaze of her sharp eyes.

“And what business does a Dane have here?” she asked after a while, smiling slightly at the sight of his blush. Brother Ceolwulf flashed behind Sihtric, so she tightened her grip and rested her head on his chest. The warrior held his breath. A stream of muffled words reached him. “No, no, you can talk; that rascal is just behind you. You could also use a bath, you know? Great, he went searching on the other side. You could also tell me your name, for the sake of appearances and decency.”

“I'm Sihtric, lady,” he said with a laugh, which (Y/N) not only heard but also felt. “Together with my lord Uhtred, we arrived…”

“Uhtred?” the girl interrupted, raising her head with surprise. “You serve Uhtred?”

“Do you know him?” Sihtric tilted his head, intrigued.

“Oh, I'm in trouble,” she said barely audible, more to herself than to him. “I have to go. I apologize for the assault.”

She took a few steps back before Sihtric panicked. He didn't know her name. He didn't know where to find her. And he definitely wanted to see her again.

“What's your name, lady?” he called after her, but she had already blended into the crowd heading to the main square. He wasn't sure if she had gone to greet Aethelred. Even if she had, he wouldn't find her in that mass.

Brother Ceolwulf came to the same conclusion. The reprimand for the princess of Wessex would have to wait.

The delicate fabric of her blue dress fluttered with each touch of the wind as she gracefully crossed the courtyard. They strolled towards the main hall.

“I only have two options: jump out the window or become a nun,” Princess (Y/N) announced in a calm manner.

“Only jump out the window, my dear,” Father Beocca specified. “Nuns would chase you with crosses and torches in their hands.”

(Y/N) looked at the priest. He had an amused expression. And a soft spot for the princess. According to Alfred's commands, he shouldn't tolerate certain behaviors and opinions. But how dull it would be if he asked her to stifle her carefreeness and restrain her sharp tongue.

“I was just praying a moment ago.”

“Yes, with the intention of our heavenly father making your sister run away from the altar.”

Aethelflaed didn't run away from the altar. She paid no mind to her sister's efforts, who, with sheer willpower, tried to steer her away from it. (Y/N) saw that the bride was enchanted by her groom, and she wanted nothing but all the happiness this world could fit for her. But something in the back of her mind warned her about Aethelred. An unbearable premonition. She blinked a few times, telling herself that she simply didn't consider any man worthy of her dearest sister's hand.

She scanned the gathered guests with her gaze. At the back of the hall, she spotted Uhtred. She nodded at him slightly. He raised an eyebrow with a smile. They had last seen each other when she was a little girl and kicked him in the leg. She wondered if he still limps.

And then she noticed Sihtric.

The warrior paled the moment he saw her standing side by side with the king.

His stranger. The king's daughter. The princess.

Only he could have such damn luck.

“It's her. The girl I told you about. It's her!” He nudged Finan's arm, to which the latter chuckled.

“Sure. Your whole story sounds shady already. Don't involve noble families in it.”

“I'm telling the truth!”

“I believe ya. Yesterday, for example, when little ol’ me was drinking beer with king Alfred…”

Sihtric sighed, but he didn't try to convince his friend anymore. He didn't register the entrance of the bride or a word spoken during the ceremony, and especially not Finan's mocking. His eyes were fixed on the princess in the blue gown. He held his breath when she finally looked at him. She smiled faintly but immediately averted her gaze, with a violent blush on her cheeks.

Sihtric Kjartansson felt his heart beat stronger.

Uhtred embraced the princess with laughter, still wondering how she had transformed so quickly from a snotty child into a breathtaking woman.

Sihtric paid special attention to that breathtaking part, as he was having trouble with that.

“The older you get, the uglier you become. Good to see you, Uhtred,” she greeted him politely. The man snorted and gestured towards his companions.

“Princess (Y/N), these are my friends…”

“Sihtric,” she greeted, bowing her head. He smiled widely, and Finan's jaw dropped, before he realized he should probably bow too. The idiot wasn't lying. Unbelievable.

“Do you know each other?” Uhtred furrowed his brow, looking at the young Dane, then at the princess. “Is there something I don't know?”

“Yes, we've been secret lovers for the past year,” she replied, rolling her eyes. Sihtric's face took on various shades of red, much to Finan's delight.

“You haven't changed at all,” Uhtred commented with a wave of his hand.

“I would be more at ease if this reception wasn't so dull,” she said, wistfully glancing at the cup in Uhtred's hand. “Is he watching?”

Uhtred glanced at the king and nodded. (Y/N) groaned.

“So, after Edward, it's your turn?” Uhtred inquired, earning himself a murderous glance from the princess.

“He'll probably be a twat or at least hundred years old,” she grumbled in disappointment. “Beocca presented me with a list of potential candidates. About each one, he says they are pious, as if I were looking for a personal priest and not a husband. Why can't he say that one of them is kind? Wise? Or handsome.”

She shifted her gaze to Sihtric and smiled mischieviously.

“We only hope to be invited to your wedding, Princess,” Finan laughed, observing his friend's bashful demeanor. "I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he'll be no older than ninety-nine.”

“That's kind of you. By the way, Sihtric, did you take that bath-”

“Princess!” Father Beocca called out as he passed by. “Maybe nunnery isn't the worst idea.”

Humorous remarks and a grin froze on her lips when (Y/N) looked into her sister's eyes. The food tray nearly slipped from her hands.

Aethelflaed didn't have to say anything. She didn't have to scream or complain about her misfortune. (Y/N) understood everything from that one look and felt the unpleasant sting of tears.

“I will kill him,” she declared forcefully, slamming the tray onto the wooden table with a loud bang. “I will kill that arse.”

“(Y/N), please...” Aethelflaed whispered. “It won't do any good. And I am capable of handling it myself.”

“You shouldn't even say that,” her sister protested, getting closer and gently placing her hands on Aethelflaed's cheeks. They were wet. “It's alright, sweetheart, it's alright.”

She planted a kiss on the top of her head and headed towards the door.

“Don't tell anyone, (Y/N). Especially not father,” she begged, getting up.

“I'll only speak to those who already know,” (Y/N) replied, barely containing her anger towards Aethelflaed's pathetic husband. “You're the Princess of Wessex, for God's sake. You're his woman, and he shouldn't treat you like this. He won't have a cock if he lays a hand on you again, trust me.”

“You'll get into trouble, (Y/N),” Aethelflaed warned, shaking her head nervously. “He can hurt you as well-”

The princess didn't listen, for she had already left the chamber. Blind rage consumed her, but so did a sadness so great that it was even more dangerous than her anger. She knew there was something wrong with him. She shouldn't have allowed this marriage to happen.

She should have protected her sister.

Aethelred appeared just in time. He strode down the corridor, his posture straight, absentmindedly trailing his hand along one of the tapestries.

“Lord Aethelred,” she snarled, making no effort to be polite. “I was hoping to have a word with you.”

The man turned slowly, bestowing upon her the sweetest and most deceitful smile.

“Little princess.”

(Y/N) tried to calm herself, but she wasn't making much progress.

“Let's get to the point,” she hissed, finally getting Aethelred to reveal his true face from behind the mask he wore daily at the royal court. “I saw my sister and the state she's in. I will not tolerate such insolence or cruelty. Who do you think you are? Hurt her again and I...”

That pile of shit started laughing.

“Terrifying is the barking of an angry bitch.” He took a few lazy steps in her direction. “I almost pissed myself in fear.”

“And you should, because I promise that...”

Aethelred rushed forward, pressing her against the wall with a hand around her throat.

“Well, what? What will you do? Maybe you'll switch places with her to spice up this tedious life of mine a little bit."

Sihtric wandered through the palace, looking for lord Uhtred his excuse, but in reality he hoped for an encounter with the princess. They were about to head out from Winchester soon. Leaving without saying goodbye was not something he wanted.

He found them just in time as (Y/N) pushed Aethelred back with all her might and punched him in the face. They all heard the unmistakable crunching sound.

Lord of Mercia was trying to regain his balance, clinging to his bloody face in shock.

“You whore,” he snapped, but Sihtric was already nearby, placing his hand warningly on the axe.

“Hope I misheard something,” he said to Aethelred, voice dripping with venom, and then looked at the princess. “Are you alright?”

“She broke my nose, of course she’s fine,” the man snorted, trying to stop the flow of blood. “You will answer for it. Just wait. And your heathen friends won’t rush to your rescue, I assure you.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath, holding on to the fist that struck Aethelred. She watched him leave with an absent look in her eyes, and then as if she finally registered Sihtric's presence.

If he had come a few moments earlier, he'd surely fling himself at that arsehole in her defense. But it turns out she was perfectly able to fight back. Sihtric felt a sudden surge of admiration and respect for the princess in a beautifully embroidered dress, who did not hesitate to throw a punch.

“Are you sure he didn’t do anything to you? Shall I go after him?” he asked, but instead of answering, (Y/N) slid slowly down the wall. Sihtric crouched beside her, worried as never before. He gently held the injured hand. He raised her bruised knuckles to his lips, but left only the ghost of touch on them. “Princess?”

“He hurt her,” (Y/N) sobbed helplessly. She wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but she had a feeling Sihtric would know how to keep a secret. “He hurt her and he will hurt her again, and there’s nothing I can do. He will hide behind his title, behind his lands, wealth and nobility. He was right. I can't do anything."

She was shaken by a wave of tears, and Sihtric instinctively embraced her with one arm and supported the back of her head with the other. She cried there on the cold floor, in the arms of a warrior who couldn't stand the sight.

He knew what was going on. And his heart ached at the thought.

“You were very brave,” he whispered, letting her lean on his chest. “Others would look away. You confronted him. You are a brave, brave girl.”

He kept saying it like a mantra, holding her in his arms until the crying subsided. He wiped the tears from her face with the thumb of his hand when she finally lifted her head.

“I won’t run away from that either,” she whispered in a faint voice. Sihtric raised his eyebrows in a questioning gesture. “I can laugh about it and put it off, but I’m just a woman with a cursed title before my name. They'll hand me over to a man I won't choose. And he will have the right to violence as soon as we tie the knot.”

Sihtric shook his head. This fate wasn’t meant for her. There was strength and courage in this lady’s heart that demanded freedom. And demanded love, the wild and untamed kind. 

“It can not be like that. I won’t allow it.”

“You don’t have much power in this matter, Sihtric. You don’t make the rules.”

“Let me decide for myself.”

He looked into the eyes of the princess and knew that the battle he would have to face was beyond his means. The only witnesses to this promise were the faces on the ancient tapestries. Men's faces behind unbreakable laws, traditions and customs.

But Sihtric Kjartansson was a warrior. And if there’s one thing that warriors can do, they can fight.

[emmetofthestars]

ok listen idk if ill finish more comics so u get this crow comic bceause i liek crow. Sniff. goodbye im going to blender.

oh yeah. looks at the smudged writing on my hand. i need to be more annoying. like i posted before, i think crow recognizes peoples footsteps, but of course if she's trying to focus on sniping she might often react too early and misinterpret what she's hearing cuz shes distracted. and since iris and spy sound so similar she doesn't wanna turn around every single time iris walks by. that + spy's footsteps always sound the same but he's more careful about sneaking around and also changing the rhythm of his steps as well as generally trying to make as little noise as possible. his disguises dont actually change his weight or footsteps or anything so she could still distinguish him based on that though. by that time its kinda too late anyway. idc about ted anymore crow is my real friend now (joking.)

[turtletaubwrites]

A Good Catch ~ Part 2

Thank you so much for all of your support! This was part of my 600 Followers Celebration, and I am so happy y'all voted for Shanks. I adore him 🥰

Pairings: Shanks x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5030

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 (End)

Ao3 Link

Summary: You've got a few burning questions for this charming captain, but soon you'll be answering his. Is it really safe to trust a pirate?

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, Flirting, Alcohol, Brief Discussion of Family Trauma, Hair Pulling, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Unprotected Sex, (Be safe out there), Birth Control, Aftercare, Shanks is such a fucking tease

A/N: I just love this hungover pirate 😅

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

A key pressed into your palm. A gentle hand on your lower back. A whispered demonstration, keeping your secret. 

Shanks stared at you through the doorway, looking down the hall before grabbing your chin with his thumb, another slow smile on those lips.

“Sweet dreams.”

His eyes crinkled as all you could do was nod, watching him walk away down that lantern lit hall. 

The key still held the warmth of his skin. 

Fuck. 

The metal thumped onto wood as you tossed it on the desk, shoving the chair under the doorknob, just like he’d shown you. 

Exhaustion pulled you down, and you rolled yourself into soft blankets, grateful that your mind only had the energy for a few more conflicting thoughts before sleep took you. 

He’s done everything he can to make me feel safe.

He’s a pirate.

His crew are all so kind, it feels like they’re a family.

He’s a pirate.

He’s gorgeous, and funny, and sweet, even though he’s annoying as fuck.

But he’s a pirate. And he’ll be leaving in three days. I’ll never see him again. 

Dreams of life on the high seas left you foggy in the morning, panic running through you until you remembered where you were. 

Thank gods there’s a bathroom in here. 

The guest quarters didn’t have a shower, but the toilet, mirror, and sink were a godsend. Cringing at your hair, you got to work, managing to tame it before you climbed back into Shanks’ clothes.

They smell like him. 

Resisting the urge to sniff his shirt took more willpower than you’d like to admit. 

Quiet. 

There was hardly a sound on the entire ship as you struggled to remember the way out. 

“Mornin,” came a gruff voice on the deck, waving from his perch on the railing. The light of the sunrise made his brown skin and dark blonde dreads seem to glow. 

You would have thought he was attractive if your eyes hadn’t gone wide at the two large pistols on his hips. 

“You’re up early,” he continued, tilting his body and moving his hands away from his weapons. 

“Fisherwoman,” you choked out. 

“That’s right,” he laughed, standing to take a few slow steps toward you. “I’m Yassop. I can bring you down to the beach if you’d like, but I'm sure everyone’s still snoring like sea lions.”

“Is the captain down there?”

“Oh, he’s down there,” Yassop teased, his smirk making you clench your teeth. “Yours might be the only face that could wake him up this early.”

“And why’s that,” you growled, following him across the deck. 

“Oh no, I’m not getting into the captain’s business.”

You scowled at the chuckling marksman all the way down to the beach.

~

“Wake up.”

Shanks whined, weakly batting away the driftwood stick you were poking into his chest. You definitely weren’t getting distracted by the pull of those muscles as he stretched on his makeshift hammock. 

The camp looked just as it did last night, except that every mug, plate, and pirate was now on the ground, quiet and still besides the orchestra of snores that Yassop hadn’t exaggerated. 

“Get up.”

Shanks rubbed his hand over his face, somehow managing to look stunning even as he struggled to get his eyes open.

“Ugh, fish girl,” he yawned, keeping his hand over his eyes now, blocking out the light. “Are we under attack?”

“What? No. I need to talk to you.”

He peeked through his fingers at you, the hint of that teasing smile already showing. 

“If you wanna spend time with me, all you have to do is– ow!”

Another quick jab to those lovely pecs had Shanks rolling out of the hammock, hanging onto your shoulder as he wobbled on his feet. 

The driftwood stick fell to the ground as his pretty eyes, heavy lidded with sleep, came so close to yours. 

“Sorry,” he rasped, letting his hand trail down your arm before letting you go. “Somebody woke me up too early.”

“I guess pirates are just lazy degenerates after all,” you said flatly, holding in the shivers his touch had caused.

“Degenerates,” he laughed softly, rubbing along his brow as he took in the sight of his hungover men sprawled across the sand. “I suppose that’s fair.”

Groaning, you picked up the stick, gasping as his hand gripped yours. He trapped your fingers around the dry wood, tracing his thumb along your knuckles as he prevented you from poking him. 

“Please, fish girl, have pity on an old–” he cut himself off at your frown, “on a handsome, young, very hungover pirate.”

He chuckled as you tried to wrest yourself from his grasp, and he didn’t let you go this time. 

“I can’t think this early, love. Not without breakfast, or a shower at least.”

“Fine, let's go take a– I mean you! You take a shower! You’re all sandy…”

His laughter followed you as you stomped your way back to his stupid ship.

~

Shanks’ laughter had been replaced by more whines as he held his hand over his eyes, getting you lost in the ship on the way to the bathing room. 

Finally at the large door to that tiled room, the shaky captain spun to face you. He managed to catch himself on the door frame as he stumbled, then leaned against it as if it were on purpose.

You rolled your eyes as he pulled a scarf from his pocket, dangling it in front of your face.

“Guard the door for me?”

“What? Why?”

“Guess I’ll just go back to slee–”

“Fine,” you said through gritted teeth, grabbing the scarf as you slid to the floor. “Aren’t you too tired to be this annoying?”

“Not in the slightest.”

You could feel him crouch beside you, and saw his feet beneath the blindfold.

He traced around the scarf to check your work, rubbing his thumb along your temple before tugging the fabric further down your nose. 

“No peeking,” he purred, and you hoped he hadn’t seen your toes curling, your feet still bare without clean shoes.

“Like I’d want to.”

“Lying is bad for the soul, fish girl,” he teased, tapping the tip of your nose with a finger before heading inside. The sound of his satisfied laughter made you want to crawl out of your skin.

Sitting there, listening to the rush of water as this man showered on the other side of the door, was making you absolutely insane.

He’s a pirate. He’s here for a reason. I can’t get distracted.

“Sorry, I forgot to bring a change of clothes,” his deep voice poured through the door. “Someone interrupted my beauty sleep.”

“So?”

“So, I’m in a towel, we’ll have to stop by my quarters. You can keep the blindfold on if you like.”

“You’ll get us lost again,” you complained, pushing yourself to your feet as you pulled the scarf from your face. “Besides, your shirts show practically your whole torso anyway, so it won’t be much different.”

The door opened wide, Shanks’ smile even wider as your lips parted. 

“You really like my shirts, don’t you?”

You managed to frown at him as he grabbed his sandy clothes and shoes, holding them against his hip, just a towel around his waist. 

And that line of dark, red hair. 

“Mind closing the door for me, darlin’?”

You jolted out of your stupor, shutting the door before following him down the hall. 

Some water still dripped from his hair, slow rivulets flowing down the muscles of his upper back, some trailing even further…

“What,” you chirped, trying to remember what he’d just said. 

He clicked his tongue a few times, shaking his head to let more shining drops of water dance down his skin. 

“Waking the captain up early just to ignore him? Did all your manners fall off your boat with your missing oar?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, standing to face him in front of the door to his quarters. 

Shanks was not doing well at suppressing his self satisfied grin, and you were having trouble focusing on anything at all. 

“Will you get the door for me, love?”

“Why,” you countered, still trying to keep your eyes glued to his face.

“You really argue about everything, don’t you?”

He shook his head, then dropped his clothes and shoes to the floor. The sound of the shoes startled you, bringing your eyes down. 

Just in time to see his towel slipping, more of that dark red hair traveling down before you squeaked, turning around and clamping your eyes shut. 

Shanks brushed past, the heat of his body, the scent of his skin, so close. He paused behind you as he opened the door, and you couldn’t hide your small gasp as he breathed that deep, dangerous voice along your neck.

“Guess you should have kept the blindfold on.”

You held your breath as you tried not to shake, listening as he moved away. Soft chuckles teased you through the air as he shut the door. 

Breath came back to you, heavy, and too loud, as you turned to find his clothes and the damp towel on the ground. 

It had just happened, but the memory of him breathing on your skin with nothing on his own sent heat twisting in your core.

He’s a pirate. He’s leaving. I’ll never see him again.

Shanks came out with a smirk, the shirt he’d chosen today not tucked or buttoned at all, just the sleeve tied off at his missing arm. 

“What’s the point of wearing a shirt at all,” you huffed, taking the change of clothes he offered.

“Because you seem to enjoy it so much,” he called through the door as you changed. 

It felt like your head was about to explode with all the shit he was doing to you. It was embarrassing, and you had to focus. 

You crossed your arms when you faced him in the hallway, trying to shut down every part of your brain that wanted to fucking giggle when he looked at you.

“What are you–”

“That color looks good on you,” he hummed with a crooked smile, tugging the rolled up fabric of his shirt at your elbow. 

You stuttered, but he turned on his heel.

“W-Wait!”

“Let’s talk over breakfast.”

That stupid red hair walking away almost made you scream. 

~

The Red Hair Pirates were in various stages of wakefulness now, but many were already drinking, laughing, and singing as if the night had never ended.

Shanks moved through them with an effortless joy, clasping hands, patting backs, laughing and joking with every crew member that wasn’t still passed out. 

That dingy table. Mismatched chairs. Surprisingly good food. 

A knee that kept brushing against yours, rubbing along your thigh everytime he turned to talk to you.

He was pushing all the boundaries. And you’d let him. You pulled him in last night, and now he was playing, testing, torturing you.

But you knew he would stop if you asked. 

How can I trust someone so fast?

“You wanted to talk about something,” he asked, leaning back after his last bite. 

His wicked grin made you regret asking to speak in private. 

~

Warm sand slowly shook from your feet as you crawled over rough stone. Shanks whined a few more times after you led him away from camp, but soon he was walking beside you, with another breathtaking smile. Now and then over the gentle waves, you swore you heard him humming the notes to a song. 

“Y/N, look at this one,” he laughed, pointing to another tide pool. 

You sat on the rock beside it, the hint of a smile on your lips as he joined you. 

So close.

“So what did you wanna talk about,” he asked, voice still soft like those soothing waves. He reached out to hand you a little stone he’d picked up. 

The warm stone fell into your palm, helping you stay present as you rolled it between your fingers.

“What are you doing on my island,” you questioned, finally meeting those pretty eyes. “You said you have business here, and I need to know that you aren’t endangering my home.”

“Endanger–,” he cut himself off with a laugh, his brows furrowing as he shook his head at you. “You didn’t need to make up excuses if you wanted to spend the day with me, fish girl.”

“Shut up,” you growled, fighting not to let his annoying charms distract you this time. “You’re pirates. You said you had business on this side of the island for three days. What are you doing here?”

“I did say ‘business,’ didn’t I,” he mused, nodding to himself before looking across the beach.

“Well,” you pushed, struggling as he met your eyes, his face so relaxed, amused.

“This is it,” he gestured vaguely, his crooked smile giving you a headache.

“What do you mean? You mean your business is here, at this beach?”

“No, Y/N,” he rasped, grabbing your hand and squeezing it, the little stone pressing into your palm. “This is it.”

He nodded toward the camp, and let out a sigh.

“We’re on vacation.”

This smile of his made him look like a little kid that got caught stealing sweets. You blinked at him.

After a long pause, he took his hand from yours, bringing it to your chin to push your mouth closed.

“Don’t fucking mess with me.”

Your voice came out rough as you pushed yourself back, almost slipping into a tide pool as you stood.

“I swear I’m not messing with you,” he let out with a small groan as he stood. He moved in close before he wobbled his head back and forth. “Well, I’m not messing with you about that.”

“Fuck you,” you seethed, head going foggy with the overwhelming flood of emotions from the last day.

Shanks moved in slowly with his arm outstretched as if he were trying to calm a frightened animal. Or a child.

And you acted like a child, frustrated tears burning in your eyes, hitting your fists against his chest as he got too close.

“Stop lying to me! Please don’t hurt people here, please don’t–”

“Shh, shh,” he hushed you gently, somehow managing to hold you against him with one arm, your hands shaking between your warm bodies.

“We’re not here to hurt anyone. I swear on my life, and the lives of my crew. All we wanna do is relax until we have nothing left to drink. Then we’ll buy up all the booze your village has to sell, and be on our way. Plus food and whatnot, but–”

Your ragged breaths brought that spicy scent of him into your lungs, your forehead falling against his chest as you started to calm. A bit.

“Are you telling me,” you growled against his skin, “that you took me hostage while you all go on a three day bender?”

You felt his laugh as he held you to him, resting his cheek on your head for a moment before releasing you. 

“We didn’t take you hostage. You paid for a ride.” He held up his hand as your mouth opened, itching to argue.

“Besides, fish girl,” he teased gently, “after hearing your story last light, it sounds like you could use a vacation too. When’s the last time you had any fun?”

“I have fun, asshole. Quit changing the subject.”

“Lying’s bad for the soul,” he hummed, touching the tip of your nose again. 

The energy drained from your body, and you left him to climb off the rock, falling onto your back in the sand. 

“So what do you do for fun?”

Shanks’ husky voice rolled over you. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know that he’d sat behind your head, leaning over your face as he spoke.

“I’ll have fun once I get off this shitty island.”

Finally, the pirate stayed quiet. Waiting. Until those rough fingers smoothed the hair from your face.

You didn’t stop him as he traced along your skin, letting relaxation wash over you. He moved from your temples, your cheeks, your jaw, behind your ears. Making sure to move his hand to both sides, evening out his slow caresses. 

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you confessed, fighting the heat of tears rising in your throat. You rolled that little stone in your fingers, the motion soothing your nerves. 

“Why’s that?”

“... Because I’m ‘Fish Girl.”

Shanks paused, and you wondered if he’d stifled a laugh. 

“What do you mean,” he asked, voice like the gentle waves just a few paces away.

It all came spilling from your lips. He listened to everything, fingers still tracing your skin. 

All the pain. Your mom leaving you with grandma, never coming back. You were so young, and it didn’t feel that bad at the time. You didn’t understand.

Grandma would tell you stories, you’d sit together on her boat for hours and hours. She taught you how to fish before you were strong enough to reel anything in. 

“That sounds wonderful,” he said, his voice somehow telling you there was a smile on his face. 

“It was. But kids are mean. I didn’t know we were poor until I went to school. I didn’t know I stank all the time until they called me ‘fish girl.”

His fingers tensed on your skin, a guilty pause before he kept up his soothing touch. 

“I never relax. I’m always working because I want a better life. All those mean kids grew up with me in our shitty little village. A few have tried to connect now that we’re older, but I don’t feel like it. I’m still 'fish girl.”

Shanks started to speak, but you cut him off. 

“I know they were just kids, but they were brutal. I was a kid too, and I could never imagine hurting anyone the way they hurt me. I don’t want to be friends with those people.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

A heavy sigh left your lips, then a small gasp as his hand moved to the side of your neck, the touch of those fingers more satisfying than anything you could remember.

“Fishing used to be something I loved. But since grandma’s been gone, I can only bring in half of what we used to. It’s not enough to save anything. I wanted to sell that stupid fish so bad,” you admitted with a laugh, a deep hum coming from the listening pirate. 

“Where do you wanna go,” he asked, his fingers trailing into your hair.

“I want to go somewhere where I can love fishing again. I want to live stories like grandma did. I want to be a fisherwoman. I don’t want to be ‘fish girl’ anymore.”

The loss of his touch was heavier than you expected. 

“Come on.”

You opened your eyes to meet his, shining at you over his outstretched hand.

Tucking the stone in your pocket, you let him help you up, surprising yourself with a laugh as he shook the sand from your hair. 

“Well, I’d say you deserve a vacation. What do ya say?”

Laughing at his silly wiggling eyebrows, you nodded, giving a breathy “okay,” as he took your hand. 

He leaned over you as you walked, sending shivers across your skin as his breath touched your ear. 

“Fisherwoman is a mouthful, so I’m gonna keep calling you ‘damsel.”

“No, you won’t,” you commanded. You cursed at him as he giggled, dropping your hand to run toward the camp.

“You sound like you’re in distress, do you need help,” he yelled back.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

You chased his laughing form until he slowed, grinning at you as he started to walk backwards. 

The look on his face when you launched yourself at him would be seared into your mind forever. You both grunted as he toppled onto his back, his arm hanging onto your waist as you fell together. 

The look on his face with you straddling him in the sand was even better.

Your hands had planned to slap him, but those eyes, those lips, and that look of joyful surprise did you in. 

That gentle hand fisted roughly into your hair as you crashed your lips onto his. A quiet, needy moan left your throat, and his answering growl made your eyes roll back. 

Thunderous cheers erupted from the crew, and you almost looked up at the camp until his fingers gripped your hair tighter, making your thighs clench around his waist. 

He pulled you away gently, his parted lips and near frantic eyes matching yours. 

“You sure,” he checked in, voice barely audible over the singing and shouting pirates. “Let’s get away from the crowd.”

Shanks kept looking over at you, that crooked smile following you back to the ship. He kept asking what you’d like to do, where you’d like to go.

“These clothes are sandy,” you noted, your voice low. “We should go to your room to change.”

He came in for a kiss, his deep voice rolling over you. 

“We’re sandy too. We should probably shower.”

“Okay,” you agreed, melting under his dark eyes.

He pushed your sandy hair aside when you reached the door to the bathing room, kissing and nibbling from the crook of your neck to your ear, holding your waist as your knees went weak. 

“Should we take turns guarding the door,” he rasped while your hands smoothed over the muscles around his waist and lower back. 

“No.”

Practically stumbling through the door as you tried to keep touching each other, you stood in the center of that tiled room, and tore the clothes off of each other's skin. 

There were no worries in your mind right now, just the electric touch of his hand and lips over each part of your body as it was revealed. 

You cried out as you felt the hard length of him through his pants before you'd freed him from the fabric. 

“You want me that much already, sweetheart?”

The urge to bicker was overridden as you pulled his pants from his skin, his thick cock springing up toward his stomach. 

The need to touch him overwhelmed you, and you wrapped your hands around him, loving the moan he let out at your touch. 

“Let’s shower, damsel,” he choked out as he kissed your cheek. “I need to bring you to the bed, now.”

That delicious smelling soap coated your skin, giving you an excuse to explore as you washed each other’s bodies. With as much of the sand and soap gone as possible, Shanks pushed you against the wall, his fingers traveling up your thigh.

“I thought you said you’re bringing me to the bed?”

“Just a minute,” he pleaded, teasing fingers until you nodded. 

“Still this wet after washing it all away?”

Those rough fingers rubbed along your clit, his name dropping from your lips in needy moans. 

“Mm, keep saying my name like that, beautiful,” he rasped, plunging in one finger, then two as your back arched against the cool, tile wall. 

“Shanks, please…”

“Please what? What does my damsel need?”

“Take me– fuck. Take me to bed.”

You gasped as his fingers left you, finding his mouth as he sucked the taste of you off of his skin. 

He tossed you a towel, kicking the clothes into a corner.

“Come on.”

“Wait,” you called, rushing to that pile of sandy fabric.

His crooked grin made you blush as he watched you grab that silly little stone. 

“Come on,” he whispered onto your lips after pulling you into a deep kiss.

A trail of water followed your path, practically running and gasping with laughter all the way to his quarters.

He didn’t get you lost this time.

Now he was the one calling for you to wait as your hand reached for the door.

“We don’t have to do anything, Y/N. We can still relax and have fun together. Please, tell me if you’re not comfor—“

“Take me to bed, Captain,” you demanded, walking through the door before him.

The only answer he gave was to slam it closed, then wrap himself around your back, kissing your neck until you moaned. 

“Shanks…”

“Yes, sweetheart,” he said before licking and nibbling at your earlobe.

“I don’t know,” you laughed, arching against him. “I just wanted to say your name.

The deep rumble that came through his chest had that pressure building in your core. His hand grasped yours, until you opened to give him the stone.

You stood smiling with your eyes closed until he pressed himself against your back again.

He pulled at your damp towel, then trailed that perfect hand down the front of your body, feeling everywhere he’d touched under that warm water and delicious soap.

Those fingers found you again, slipping easily in the dripping mess he’d already made of you. 

“Mm, so wet. So good for me, aren’t you, beautiful?”

All you could do was whimper as he circled your clit, until you cried out at the towel covered press of him along your ass.

“Please…”

“What darlin’? Tell me what I can do for my damsel?”

His raspy voice was too much, and you gasped as he palmed your needy pussy to hold you up as your knees went weak.

He chuckled in your ear as he kept grinding the meat of his palm against you. 

“Please, Y/N, please tell me what you need. I’ve got you.”

His whisper brought desperate tears prickling in your eyes until you could finally speak.

“Fuck me now, Shanks. Fuck right fucking now, or I’ll never forgive you.”

He grabbed you, easily moving your weight with one hand until you fell back onto the edge of the bed. 

He left you then, digging though his desk, tossing things out of drawers in a frantic search.

“I said right fucking now,” you demanded, still breathless.

“Yes, but—“

“I’m on birth control. Now hurry up before I find another pirate—“

Your sentence ended in a yelp as he pounced on you, his thick cock rubbing through your folds as he ate your moans. 

“Don’t go saying shit like that again,” he rasped as his dark eyes bore down on yours.

“You’re the one who keeps calling me damsel. If you’re not going to help me—“

A filthy moan left your lips as he guided his tip to rub circles over your clit. 

“Oh, I’ll be helping you plenty, don’t worry sweetheart,” he promised, this dark smile of his going in your list of favorites.

“What was that you said about ‘right fucking now,” he taunted, giving you no time to brace for the press of him.

He worked his way in slowly, putting your leg over his shoulder while he watched your face. 

“How’s that sweetie,” he teased, his own voice breathy and desperate now as his hips finally met yours. “Is this what my girl needed?”

“Fuck, Shanks. Fuck me please.”

“You are a very demanding woman, you know that?”

Any retort you would have had died in your throat as you screamed, his deep thrusts making your toes curl.

“So fucking gorgeous. Gods, Y/N, you take my cock so well.”

Shanks gripped your thigh against his chest, pressing it to him until he locked you into place.

“Oh right there, sweetheart? I’ll help my pretty girl right there, just say my name again.”

He hit that sweet spot inside you over and over as if it belonged to him, claiming it, taking it back. Every word from his lips felt like vibrating pleasure down your skin, and in no time at all, you were screaming his name, arching your back against those red sheets as you fell apart.

He fucked you through your orgasm, sweet praise almost impossible to understand as your mind disappeared.

“You feel so good coming on my cock, you made such a beautiful mess. You're gonna go again for me now, okay?”

He chuckled at the pathetic whine from your lips, but never stopped his rhythm. 

“Please, pretty damsel? I helped you out. Now let me watch those dainty fingers on your clit. Let me feel you milk my cock one more time before I fill you up.”

He moaned along with you as your body clenched around his. 

You couldn’t argue with that heated smile. His hungry eyes watched your fingers slide over your clit, scraping his lip between his teeth as he tightened his arm around your thigh.

“Just like that. Let me see my girl come on my cock again. Fuck... You feel so good, so fucking good for me, baby.”

“Shanks, you feel… I’m close.”

“I know, sweetheart, can you feel me too? Come for me, I’m gonna— fuuckk…”

Shanks leaned over you, shoving himself as deep as he could go. Pleasure ripped through your body as you clawed at his back, more screams filling the air.

The sensation of both of you coming at once, your body milking his as he spilled ropes of heat inside you, had your mouth slack, body limp and useless as you twitched together.

Shanks leaned his forehead against yours, staying hilted within you as he caught his breath.

You gave him a droopy smile as he lifted his head, and he laughed before covering your face in kisses while you squirmed. 

This made both your bodies twitch again, moaning as he pulled himself out of you. 

He grabbed one of the damp towels as he knelt at the foot of the bed, kissing your thighs as he gently cleaned your sensitive skin.

“Stop,” you begged weakly as his soft touches across you body kept your aftershocks going.

The mattress shifted under his weight, bouncing you lightly until he pulled you up the bed onto his chest. His arm wrapped around you, still leaving lazy circles of touch across your back and hip.

“Now what,” you whispered, fighting to keep the real world from invading your brain.

“Anything my damsel wants,” he hummed, leaving a soft kiss against your still damp hair. “Your vacation’s only just started.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Hi, I have once again gone INSANE over another One Piece character. I need help. Someone please lock me away.

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @nothing-but-brass | @honeyoru | @onlyseob | @constawrites | @gingernut1314 | @i-am-vita | @laurelthesimp | @therealsatorugojo | @jadeddangel

Part 3

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

[sukuna-dees-nuts]

rizzless sukuna pt 3

FINALLY!! i've finished it. it's much longer than i planned but what're you gonna do?? lmao happy late late valentines day everyone! have a sukufushi date

@nessieartss you wanted me to tag you so here i am tagging you!

part 1 | part 2

---

Sukuna hasn't been able to stop thinking about his date. 

Yes, it's only been about two hours since he and Megumi have set up their date, but that doesn't mean that Sukuna can't be excited. He's never had a date before (if that wasn’t obvious by the way he totally fucked up his pickup line). It’s a mystery why Megumi had even agreed.

After the initial excitement had worn off, Sukuna found himself wondering if Megumi only said yes out of pity, even if he had been amused by Sukuna's fuck-up. 

But as soon as the thoughts came, he pushed them away because since when does Sukuna think about the consequences of his actions? He should be thinking about what the hell they're gonna do for this date. 

Sukuna had half the mind to ask Maki what they should do, whether she had any suggestions about what Megumi might like, but then he remembered the “advice” she'd given him earlier and a scowl came to his face. Even if it had worked, he refused to send her a text. 

“Hey, Sukuna!” 

The older boy looks up at the sound of his name, seeing Yuuji making his way over with a grin on his face. He doesn't allow Sukuna to speak before he nudges his brother with an elbow. “We should go to that new Boba place! Gojo told me that the Mango flavor is amazing—”

“No—”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Yuuji pulls away, looking affronted. “You don't wanna spend time with your favorite brother?” He gives Sukuna his best puppy eyes, sticking out his bottom lip for added effect. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes and pushes Yuuji's face away from him. “Well if you'd let me finish my damn sentence,” he grunts. “Not today, I have plans.”

Yuuji snorts. “Plans? Doing what? Throwing rocks at police cars?” 

“None of your business,” the older boy replies with a sniff, keeping his face impassive. Yuuji opens his mouth but Sukuna already knows what he's going to ask. “And no you cannot come with.”

“What? Why not?” He pouts once again. 

“Because.” That's all Sukuna says. He pulls out his phone and checks his messages. His heart does a stupid little flip when he sees Megumi's name on a notification, letting Sukuna know that he's reached the spot where they're supposed to meet up. Sukuna responds to let him know that he's on his way. 

Putting his phone back into his pocket, he reaches out and ruffles Yuuji's hair, earning an annoyed grunt from his brother. “See ya later.”

Sukuna turns on his heel and heads in the direction of where Megumi is waiting, missing the intrigued look on his brother's face. 

The closer he gets, the faster his heart starts to beat and Sukuna runs a hand through his hair. Briefly, he stops himself before he rounds the corner just dust himself off and shake out his hands as if it might get rid of the anxiety that he’s feeling. Once again, he pushes his hair back and takes a deep breath. 

Rounding the corner, the corner of his mouth lifts up when he sees Megumi waiting patiently, scrolling through his phone. He looks up at the sound of footsteps and he immediately pockets his phone when he sees that it’s Sukuna. A small smile comes to his face.

“Hey,” Sukuna greets.

Megumi replies with a “hey” of his own. 

Silence stretches out between them and if it were anyone else, Sukuna would be inclined to laugh at just how fucking awkward it is. He really didn’t think this through.

Megumi doesn’t seem to mind however and asks, “So, where are we going?”

“How about that new Boba place?” Sukuna suggests. 

“Sure. Better to go with you than be dragged along by Gojo. He was late to class this morning because he was getting a drink there.” Megumi shakes his head and Sukuna huffs. 

The two of them turn to begin walking in the direction of the Boba shop which Sukuna realizes that he has no idea where it is. Hopefully Megumi knows where they’re going. The older boy would hate to make himself look like an even bigger fool by getting them lost. 

As they walk, the two of them make small talk and Sukuna finds it easier to keep up a conversation with Megumi than anyone that isn’t Yuuji; he feels his anxiety melting away by the minute. There’s still something nagging at him in the back of his mind that Megumi is only humoring him, but Sukuna ignores it, as he does with most of his internal turmoils. 

When they arrive at the shop, Megumi and Sukuna reach for the door handle simultaneously, their fingers brushing. Both pull away instantly, eyes wide as they meet each other's gaze. There's a pink blush dusting over Megumi’s cheekbones and Sukuna's brain short circuits at how cute he looks. The thought alone makes Sukuna's ears burn and he clears his throat, forcing himself to look away. 

They both hesitate only to reach for the door at the same time, again, both retracting their hands before they can touch again. This time, Sukuna does chuckle at how ridiculous they're being, trying his best to ignore how fucking adorable Megumi is with his cheeks red (and ignore how his fingers are still tingling after he and Megumi barely touched). He grabs the door handle to yank it open much harder than necessary. 

He gestures for Megumi to enter first and Megumi nods, stepping around Sukuna quickly to enter the shop. Sukuna shakes his head at himself, pressing his hand to his chest, willing his heart to slow the fuck down. He's on a date, not running a fucking marathon! 

Stepping up next to Megumi, Sukuna looks over the menu, briefly considers asking Yuuji to recommend a flavor, but immediately brushes that thought aside. He would not hear the end of it considering he just turned his brother down to come here. Now Sukuna is on a date with his little brother's best friend at the shop that Yuuji wanted to come to.

Megumi and Sukuna step up to the counter, and as Megumi gives the person at the register his drink order, Sukuna is already pulling out his wallet and card before the other boy can even think about paying. The second the barista gives the total, Sukuna is tapping his card on the terminal screen. When he glances over, Megumi looks unimpressed. 

“Hey, I asked you out first,” Sukuna points out as they find a table to wait at. “It's common courtesy that I pay.”

“Then I suppose I'll have to pay for next time,” Megumi hums, a smirk playing on his lips. 

Sukuna feels his heart flutter in his chest and he internally scowls at himself for such a stupid reaction; what is he? Some little school girl? 

Grow up, Sukuna, he scoffs at himself mentally. 

He hates that the idea of a second date gets him so excited. 

“Bold of you to assume you'd wanna go out with me again,” Sukuna responds with a quirk of his lips. 

Megumi arches an eyebrow, leaning forward. He rests his arms on the table. “Why wouldn't I?” 

Sukuna drums his fingers on the table, holding Megumi’s gaze. “Well for starters, I'm an asshole.”

“Yeah,” Megumi nods. 

“I'm also Yuuji's older brother.”

Again, Megumi nods. “Correct.”

“Gojo doesn't like me. Or rather, I don't like him.”

Megumi snorts. “Gojo enjoys having you at the school. He just thinks you're fun to tease.”

Sukuna pauses momentarily. “He's a terrible influence on Yuuji,” he grumbles. 

This time, Megumi laughs, tucking his face into the collar of his school uniform. The sound makes Sukuna's chest grow warm and he wants to hear that sound again. Who knew such a pretty sounding laugh could come from Megumi Fushiguro?

“That is very true,” Megumi sighs once he's finished laughing. 

Sukuna gets to his feet when their names are called for their drinks, and he’s thankful for the out to give himself a moment to take in a deep breath, to regulate himself before going back to the table. He slides Megumi’s drink across the table and watches as the younger boy easily stabs his straw through the top of his drink and takes a sip. For a second, Sukuna is so transfixed on watching Megumi’s Adam’s apple bob that he doesn’t register the fact that he’s being spoken to. 

“Huh?”

Megumi huffs in amusement. “I was asking why you asked me on a date.”

“Oh,” Sukuna breathes. He blinks and rubs the back of his neck. With his free hand, he takes his straw and stabs it into his own drink so that he can take a sip, stalling for more time to try and give an answer that wouldn’t sound stupid. “I don’t know.”

Perfect. Great answer you fucking loser, Sukuna  tells himself. 

“I, uh, well—” He stutters over his words, making himself look like an even bigger fool. The biggest fool in the Goddamn world. He’s reminding himself of Yuuji at this exact moment. “I’ve been thinking about it and, uh, ah fuck.” Finally he gives up and leans back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face. 

“I just wanted to and Maki told me to just do it,” Sukuna says, his words muffled by his palms. By now, the tips of his ears are red and he’s sure that his face is the same. Dropping his hands, he continues staring at the ceiling before looking back at his date. 

An amused smirk spreads over Megumi’s mouth and he snorts. “You asked Maki for advice?”

Sukuna takes a sip from his drink as his other hand runs through his hair (he needs to break this habit sooner than later). He scowls, more at himself than at Megumi as he says, “Listen, it’s not my proudest moment, but I’ve never done this before—”

“What?” Megumi gasps dramatically (or as dramatically as Megumi can be), interrupting Sukuna. “Date Man has never had a date before?”

“No,” Sukuna grunts, “and why do you keep calling me Date Man?”

Megumi simply shrugs in response. 

“If I'm Date man, that means you’re Raisin Boy,” the older boy decides with a firm nod. This earns an amused snort from Megumi who doesn't disagree. 

They go back to sitting in silence again, sipping their drinks. Thankfully, the other boy speaks up first.

“Are you as big of a movie buff as your brother?” Megumi asks.

Sukuna looks up. “Only by association,” he replies. “If he's not watching with his Junpei friend then he's forcing me to watch them.” A pause to take a sip of his drink. “Though, I do love a good horror movie; it's my favorite genre.” 

Perking up in his seat, Megumi leans forward a little. “What's your favorite horror movie?”

“'The Exorcist'. A classic.” Sukuna kisses his fingers. When his eyes land on Megumi again, the other boy has a look on his face that says he doesn't agree. Arching an eyebrow, Sukuna asks, “What?” 

Megumi gives a lame, one-shouldered shrug. “It's alright.”

Sukuna gapes at him, jaw dropping slightly and he blinks, shaking his head. “Alright? What do you mean ‘it's alright’?” 

“It's alright,” Megumi repeats while he mixes his drink. “I'll agree with you that it's a classic.”

There's a pause and Sukuna waits for him to continue, but he doesn't. Sukuna gestures for Megumi to continue. 

“I just think 'The Conjuring' is better.”

A loud laugh escapes from Sukuna's mouth and he claps a hand over his mouth. He clears his throat, glancing around to see if anyone noticed. Turning back to his date, he folds his arms and rests them on the table.

“You're just saying that,” Sukuna decides, eyeing Megumi over. “There's no way you think 'The Conjuring' is better.”

Megumi almost looks offended. “It is better. I prefer the first movie out of all of them, but I'm not too picky. Not to mention they're based on true stories and I'm a fan of nonfiction.”

“'The Exorcist' is based off of a true story,” Sukuna points out.

“Very loosely,” Megumi retorts. “Don't get me wrong, the actress who played the little girl—”

“Linda Blair—”

“—did a fantastic job, as did the actress who played her mother—”

“Ellen Burstyn,” Sukuna supplies helpfully.

Megumi smirks at him. “Not a big movie buff, huh?” he teases.

All Sukuna can do is shrug. “It's my favorite horror movie. I've done my research, alright?” 

Shaking his head, the other continues, “but with that being said, I think the plot of 'The Conjuring' is better. It's more suspenseful. Keeps you on your toes. Nothing terribly exciting happens in 'The Exorcist' until the last 20 minutes of the movie or so.” Seeing unimpressed look on Sukuna's face, Megumi asks, “When is the last time you saw 'The Conjuring'?”

Sukuna thinks for a moment. 

When is the last time he's seen that movie? Yuuji isn't much of a horror fan, and recently, Sukuna has been busy dealing with his stupid feelings and training that he had really watched any movies. 

“It's been a minute,” he finally says. 

The corner of Megumi’s mouth twitches up. “Maybe we should get together again and watch them back to back, you know, to see which one truly is better.”

The suggestion throws Sukuna through a loop and his brain stops thinking for a second. His heart skips a beat in his chest, his stomach twisting into knots and he wants to punch the table for getting so giddy. He can't stop the smile that comes to his face. 

“It's a date… Raisin Boy.”

[darkmodechaoticlight]

Beel as a first time father

[NSFWish, its Beel]

Honestly I have an unreasonable need for Beel to be a good dad, and was fairly proficient at crotch fruit caring. I also have a headcannon that his baby (His name is Fenriz, or Fen for short) has baby versions of his powers, but the two his little baby head uses the most is his teleportation and hunger. -When Beel the ratking returns to Avisos one night, Bael was the one who barred him from Evie's room. Why was he stopping him? Evie is his wife she would be happy that he was back. -Bael would have to explain to him that she was giving birth. They had Gamigin attending her. -Beel is the damn king, hes going in. -As soon as hes in the room he gets something thrown at him, it breaking behind him. It was Evie who was holding Fen with one arm and ready to grab the chair next to her. No wonder Satan liked her like he does. -He ignores this fit and took the chair from her and sat down. He knew it was wrong to be away so long, but he did want his child born without anything bad to happen to her. Evie still annoyed but calming down enough to introduce Beel to his firstborn son. -Beel holds the Prince, scared at first. Evie helps him hold his head. His little horn bud was in the same place as Beels. Though he was pink. Evie said it was a baby human thing. Fen also seemed to be blond, though Evie also said that could be a human thing too since she was blond until seven, when her hair turned purple naturally. -BABY SMELL. (Yes he did sniff Fen when he first held him.) -Also breast milk smell. weirdly hes digging it. (Yes he did want a taste. Evie did offer him one of the fresh bottles of milk Evie expressed for Fen. He didn't like it.) -Evie is showering and hes attending Fen, holding him close and just surprised how big he is. Well, his mother does top out at 6"4 and from the stories her family were born big. But being 10 pounds? He was a whopper! He sat down on the seat and admired Fen, who was now sleeping nuzzled against his chest. A blessing he feels he doesn't deserve. Fen's tiny hand wrapped around his and he was smitten. -One might say Beel is hopelessly devoted to his baby.

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

DAI x BG3 matchups I need to see. I’m not good at writing crossovers nor am I clever at all. This is very much non-exhaustive and very much not the end point of these characters’ potential interactions with each other.

Karlach + Sera + Iron Bull

The absolute chaos. The absolute CHAOS. A powerhouse. Putting aside Karlach’s demon heritage aside, she and Iron Bull tossing back tankards and swapping war stories as vets that have been dealt shitty hands but continue to chug along despite it. Karlach and Sera connecting over growing up mainly on the streets and having soft spots for little ragamuffins. Plus they all talk about women’s tits a lot. I feel Sera would find Karlach sexy and funny.

Wyll + Cole

Like Solas and Varric, Wyll would take to Cole because he recognizes Cole’s desire to help others, even if his methods are a bit unorthodox. He would recognize Cole’s soul as gentle and kind, and his efforts to atone for the murders he committed in the Tower as proof of his humanity. He will join the Uncle-Dad Duo and complete the Uncle-Dad Trio. Cole would gravitate toward Wyll’s goodness in turn, and probably tell Wyll that him making a contract wasn’t foolish because in the end he saved a city, and if that was his desire, then he committed no sin in doing so.

Solas + Astarion

The messiest shit can only occur, and my messy bitch self wants to see it. Watch as Solas’s upright and stiff demeanor utterly bores Astarion. Watch as Astarion’s selfishness, penchant for violence, and casual disregard for the well-being of others utterly pisses Solas the fuck off. Watch as Astarion yawns or interrupts Solas’s lectures with a “yes, yes, we get it” or the most dramatic eyeroll and overwrought “ugh”. Watch as Solas and Astarion immediately sniff each other out as liars and schemers from first jump and hold each other at a distance, the tension spiking at random moments early in them knowing each other where the other prods at their falsehoods. Watch as Astarion is dumbfounded by Solas expressing his condolences to Astarion upon learning of Astarion’s enslavement to his master, because how could a man who holds such reproach for him still manage to feel pity? ‘It is not pity, but compassion, which you are at liberty to reject. That is your right as a free man, just as it is my right to feel it.’

In the best case scenario, Astarion calms down eventually, teasing Solas but still treating him like that friend of a friend that you grudgingly admit is useful. I think a part of Astarion would find Solas’s penchant dislike of him funny.

Vivienne + Astarion + Dorian

We are all doomed. The haughtiness will be scarcely contained. Dorian and Astarion are definitely flirting. Fucking? Not sure. But definitely flirting and enjoying killing bad guys, playfully arguing over wine, snickering over Solas’s shabby dress.

Shadowheart + Leliana

Tools forged to serve a religious order? Check. Crisis of faith? Check. Subterfuge preferred? Check.

Lae’zel + Cassandra

Soldiers recognizing soldiers. 🫡 ‘Why are the men around me so annoying.’

Minsc & Boo + Cole

Cole might be able to understand Boo! If not his speech, then his little hamster feelings. Minsc might be wary of Cole for the information that he manages to glean from Minsc’s head, but his unquestioned understanding of Boo would probably smooth that bump in the road, right?

Solas + Gale

A friend remarked that Gale would remind Solas too much of himself (prideful, ambitious) and thus they would not get along. There is that. I think that Gale would get a small smile out of Solas every now and then with his quips, because Solas himself is clearly a fan of banter; Gale would provide more of the energy in the same way Dorian does with his and Solas’s more civil banters. Gale and Solas also both hold a great measure of respect and adoration for magic as a force, an element, a piece of entirety that is beautiful for its own existence. Not simply just what magic can do for them as wielders of magic, but what it is and how it does so much to enhance a person’s understanding and interaction with the world, as precious as sight or sound.

Minthara + Iron Bull

Oh she will have him cowed in a goddamn minute. Oh man. Oh no. ‘Yes ma’am’, ‘no ma’am’.

Minthara + Cassandra

Oh this would be so interesting. Disciplined, serious bulwarks with little time for silly little men—Minthara would share Cassandra’s frustration and lack of amusement with Varric, though Cassandra would consider her suggestions to maim him.

Solas + Halsin + Iron Bull

I see potential here. Iron Bull and Solas already have a dynamic of Iron Bull’s “I have a pretty good idea of who you are, and it’s a liar” toward Solas, while Solas grudgingly respects Iron Bull’s strength and mental acumen in the same way you would respect a very intelligent bear—do not draw attention more than necessary, but stand tall lest it smell fear. Halsin feels like a softer Iron Bull, a mediation between the two. Like Iron Bull, his stature and build belies a thoughtful and sharp mind. Like Solas, he sees everything as connected, feeding into the other as part of a system, and would too feel a sense of loss at magic and mundane being so dramatically split as it is in Thedas—an aberration against what is natural. Also like Iron Bull, he’s frank with his sexuality. I’m certain the two would swap stories over booze. The trio would be arguably the three most mature and experienced in a room in any given situation. Not only that, but Halsin is far more actively in touch with his heart and honest with his feelings than Solas or Iron Bull. The latter two very much care about their loved ones, but with Solas it is under the surface and with Iron Bull it’s mixed up in cultural trappings of romance not being a “thing” in his culture, and thus both struggle with their feelings. Halsin however is very much in touch. There is next to nothing obstructing what his head and heart wants. He listens to his heart and he follows it. Solas and Iron Bull could learn a thing or two from him, tbh

Also I feel like Iron Bull, Halsin, and even Solas have a bit of a brat tamer streak in them so there’s that

Also Astarion would outright reject the notion of drinking Cullen’s blood cuz it smells like battery acid.

[selineram3421]

An Ansgty fic about Platonic!Angel Dust with a 13 y/o fem!reader that has very bad trust issues but they somehow manage to form a strong big bro <--> lil sis bond??? Maybe he comes back to the hotel all bruised up thanks to Valentino (ugh, how I hate that man 👌👁👄👁) and when reader tries to help him he snaps due to the stress of the situation and yells at her/throws something her way and now the reader is scared that Angel might hurt her, so he reaches out slowly trying to make it up for his error but the reader flinches away from him, running stairs down to lock herself in her room and to not came out for 1 week only letting Charlie and Nifty enter her room??

I agree, Valentino is literal garbage.

You Ok?

Angel and Child (T) Fem Reader

Platonic Oneshot

Warning! ⚠

⚠ using she/they for reader, trust issues, trauma/ptsd, Valentino being a piece of shit, injuries-blood/bruising, yelling/throwing things, mentions of murder, hurt/comfort ⚠

~

"I'm gonna head to work.", Angel says, picking up his bag with work items and putting on his jacket.

"Ok.", you nod, carrying Fat Nuggets.

"If ya go out, make sure you ain't followed. Keep an eye on your surroundings, be sure ta take your phone and a weapon.", your older brother says and pats the top of your head.

You nod again with a smile.

"Good. You have my number and the hotel staff is around, 'kay? Make sure ta tell 'em somethin' if some guest is being an asshole to you.", he says and kisses Fat Nuggets on the top of their head. "There's a twenty in my vanity drawer, bye!"

Once he leaves, you and Fat Nuggets look at each other.

"Wanna raid the candy pantry?", you ask, earning an oink in return. "I didn't hear a no!"

Putting the pig down, you go out of Angel's hotel room and close the door behind you two.

"Ok, on three.", you get ready to run. "One, two.."

The pink little pig also readies himself.

"Three!", you shout.

Both of you race down the hall.

.

"What did I say Angel baby?"

The spider demon backed up till he hit a wall, having no where to run. Valentino steps closer, placing a hand on his employee's cheek.

"I told you not to talk when dancing. You know how much costumers like quiet pretty things.", the moth demon coos softly.

Its a false sense of security.

The soft touch turns into a violent one when Valentino clutches onto the spider's jaw tightly.

"Ack!", Angel gasps and tries to push the demon's hand away.

"Let's teach you again, yes?"

🕸

Hours have passed.

You and Fat Nuggets lay on the lobby couches, bored out of your minds.

There was not much to do.

You were sitting at the bar with your pig companion, playing find the broken glass. But Husk quickly told you to beat it and that he didn't want to deal with anyone today.

"He deals with random demons all the time! Dang cat works at the bar for Satan's sake!", you huff.

"Oink oink", Fat Nuggets snorts.

"Yeah, yeah. I know.", you reply and turn to lay on your side. "Charlie is doing whatever, Vaggie is with her, Niffty is..somewhere, and the red guy doesn't like being around me or Angel.", you list of with a groan. "And Pentious is annoying."

The pig rolls onto his stomach and sniffs at you with little snorts.

"I just wish there was more fun around here. I can't really do anything.", you mumble.

The sound of the lobby doors opening catches your attention, making you sit up from the couch and look to see who walked in.

Its your brother, covered in bruises and blood. He wears a pained grimace as he limps into the lobby.

"Angel!", you shout, rolling off the couch and run up to him. "Are you ok? What happened? Oh god, your eye is swelling. Let's get you some ice and-", you reach out to him.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!", he snaps, hitting you away with his bag and letting it go.

The bag slams into the wall and falls to the floor, the room becoming deadly silent.

.

Angel just got back from work and everything hurt. Valentino kicked him out for the day since the bruises wouldn't look too attractive to costumers.

All he saw was red but his other senses were on high. So the spider demon reacted on instinct when there was a loud voice and a hand coming toward him.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

He knows the bag hit someone before flying to the wall. When he takes a second to calm down and looks at the small demon backing up, he realizes who it was.

"Oh shit-", Angel gasps, letting your name slip out with guilt. "Kid, I didn't mean to-", he moves forward with a hand lifting up towards her.

She flinches back clutching their arm, shivering in fear as tears roll down their cheeks.

"Don't touch me!", she manages to get out before running off.

"Wait, kid!", he tries to go after them but hisses at the pain coming from his leg.

Stumbling over to the wall, Angel leans against it and slowly lowers himself onto the floor. The spider demon doesn't notice he's crying until Fat Nuggets comes up to him to lick off the tears that have fallen on his hands.

"I'm sorry.", he whispers before closing his eyes tightly and sobbing, covering his face with two of his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!", his other set of arms wrap around his legs as he balls himself up before whimpering out another apology.

🕸

You locked yourself up in your hotel room and the little door for Fat Nuggets. Not wanting to risk it, you also angled a chair under the doorknob. Just the thought of Angel kicking down your door and beating you was terrifying.

Not again. I don't want that to happen again. You think of how your living life was and close your eyes. They're dead! I killed them twice! They're gone!

There was some comfort from holding the pillow and burying your face into it. All you wanted to do was stay hidden away until he forgot about you.

A knock on the door made you jump.

"Hey, you ok in there?", the voice of the princess comes through. "I brought dinner."

You slowly get off the bed and quietly make your way over to the door. Taking a peak through the gap on the bottom of the door and feeling the vibrations on the floor, you confirm that its only her outside.

Upon the door opening slowly, Charlie smiles at you in relief.

"Alastor made your favorite.", the blonde says.

"Thanks Ch-Charlie.", you stutter and quickly take the plate, widening the door gap for a second to bring the food inside, closing the door and locking it.

"Oh. I wanted to talk, is that ok?", she asks.

"I don't really want to go out and talk right now.", you say, moving the chair back.

"How about just talking like this? You don't have to leave your room or open the door.", the princess offers. "I just want to make sure you're ok."

"I'm..ok.", you say, rubbing your arm.

"Mentally?", she asks.

You stay quiet for a few seconds.

"Is anyone mentally ok in Hell?", you answer her question with a question.

She sighs and you hear her shift outside the door. You sit down, leaning your back against the wall and pick at your food.

"That is a really good question.", Charlie says. "However the answer is obvious."

You eat a bit of the food.

"Can you tell me what happened?", she asks after a bit.

"Angel-", you take in a deep breath before continuing. "Angel came back from work all beat up. I was worried a-and reached out to him but then he..", you take another breath, feeling your chest ache at the memory. "He hit me with his bag."

Your curl up into a ball and hug yourself.

"Is he ok?", you ask in a whisper.

"Vaggie took care of him, he's ok.", she says.

"That's good.", you hiccup, hugging yourself tighter.

"I'll come back in the morning, or I'll send Niftty to check up on you, ok?", Charlie says.

You can hear shifting outside. She probably sat on the floor too.

"Thank you for telling me. That took a lot of courage.", she says before saying goodnight and leaving.

.

Angel skipped work.

He didn't want to go back, and he also needed to apologize to you. Problem was that you didn't leave your hotel room for almost a whole week, only opening the door for Niffty or Charlie. The princess suggested that they'd do a therapy session, but he didn't want to do that. It would make it seem forced and he wanted his sister to know that he was not forced to apologize.

So on the seventh day of her being locked up in her room, he got all of their favorite snacks and went over.

Angel knocked on their door, but she didn't answer. "Hey, I got you some snacks.", the spider demon says.

Nothing.

"You ok kid? You've been in your room for a week now. Everyone's been worried. Heck, even Husk!", he waits for a response, but still doesn't get one.

Sighing, he goes to sit down and leans his back against the door, placing the snacks next to him.

"I should'a came by and said this earlier but I'm sorry.", he says and looks down at the floor. "I didn't mean to hit you, I reacted on instinct. It..", he bites his lip before continuing. "It was a trauma response. I heard you being loud and when you tried to touch me I freaked out."

He looks up and covers his eyes with one of his arms, trying not to cry.

"I just want you ta know that I'd never hurt you on purpose. And-", he sniffs and starts wiping the tears that start falling. "What I did wasn't ok and I understand if you don't trust or forgive me, I understand if you hate me now and never want to speak or see me again.", the mascara he had put on earlier was now ruined. "I just want you to know its ok. All I want is for you to be safe. I'll be happy with just knowing that you're ok."

Suddenly he falls back, before he can hit the ground, he's engulfed into a hug from behind. The spider demon feels her hold onto him tighter and also as she leans her head against his back.

"You're ok, right?", they mumble. "You're not hurt anymore?"

"I'm ok.", he confirms, moving an arm back to pat the top of her head. "Are you ok? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

His sister nods and sniffles.

"C'mon. Sibling cuddle therapy.", he says before moving them into a proper hug, letting her rest their head on his chest. "Let's watch movies and get sugar high, we can even do some pranks on the girls.", he lists off, petting their head with one hand and rubbing their back with another as the other set of arms just holds them.

"Mhm.", she hums in agreement.

"Ok, I'ma pick ya up now. 'kay?", he says and lifts them up after they nod, making sure to grab the snacks as well.

He carries them over to his room.

"Fat Nuggets misses ya.", he said before opening the door.

"I missed him too.", his sister replied. "I missed you."

"I missed you too kid."

~

Charlie and Vaggie saw the whole thing on the security cameras.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb

ML for Angel Dust🕸

[thecuriousquest]

Hi there 🥺 i am really happy that you write for (Toya-nii) coz thats what i live for these days 🥺🤧🤧. Can I request a scenario with yandere pro hero old bro!Toya nii with quirckless little sis. Lets say that due to the fact that she is quirckless she always preisoned at home and can't go out without one of her hero brothers. Its dangerous out there 🥺 but enough is enough. She isnt a child anymore (how long those stupid adults will treat 18 yo as a small kid 🤐) so she decided to escape. But she ended up meeting a low rank villain who was able to hurt her just for money which she didnt even have 🤦‍♀️ so she sent a (S.O.S) text to Toya-Nii who never thought in his life his little sis will even send one (it is a precession he taught her since young age just in case 🥺) and he was there in a minute (he can track her phone which also something he never thought he will ever do 🥺). Arriving on the scene, he took matters on hands ofc. No word being said. Nothing can describe his rage but he didn't cause a scene, saving it to home after a hospital visit and full check up. At home he was about to say the most brutal words he ever said to her but he couldnt when she cried first. He reminded himself that he is immune to it, or he thought untill saw her face, ugly crying her heart out like 5 yo while talking between her sniffs about how scary the world is and how frightened she is 🥺. I will let you decide how to end this and how will Toya-nii deal with her crying like this 🥺🤧..

My Big Brother, My Hero

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs

Warnings: Platonic yandere themes, minor violence, injured reader, overprotective Touya, Touya is a pro hero in this one, might be kinda long

Checkout my Master List here.

—————————————————————————

It all started the day you were born. By the age of five, you became self-aware of your predicament. You have no quirk, but it was somehow okay. Your family members didn’t say anything to mock you or make you feel unworthy of being alive.

By age ten, you started noticing that you couldn’t go anywhere if you didn’t have one of your older brothers with you. Your father would especially send you out with your pro hero older brother, Touya. Shoto was always a close second seeing as how he’s more powerful than Natsuo.

At fifteen years old, you were fucking irritated with how the family continued to treat you like a little baby. You couldn’t seem to escape it. Your entire family thought you were incapable of taking care of yourself. This was the age where Touya sat you down and explained to you that if you ever needed him and he wasn’t there, just text SOS, and he’ll be there to help you. You rolled your eyes at him and huffed a “thanks”.

Now, here you are at eighteen years old, and you are about to show your family just how capable you really are when faced with the world.

———-

It breaks your heart as you make your way to the Bullet Train to get far away from your family. You even shed a tear as you find your seat. Looking out the window, you think of how you’ll miss Natsuo’s caring hands and gentle words, Fuyumi’s after school snacks and hugs, Shoto being a constant pillar of strength and support in your life, and Touya’s annoying tendencies and protectiveness. You won’t miss Enji or Rei’s controlling grip, though.

The ride is very fast, and you start to get an eerie sense. As you look around, there’s only a few people on the train.

Someone comes up beside you. They grab you by the back of your jacket before slamming your cheek into the window. Panicking, you try to look at who is assaulting you, but all you can see is blue skin and a trench coat.

A sob hitches in your throat at the realization of not having a quirk. You can’t do anything. There’s no way of escaping this on your own.

There’s a pause before you find yourself hefted into the air by strong hands which throw you onto the ground. You land on your shoulder, and a sickening crack fills your ear. A horrible pain wrenches through your entire arm, twisting and turning in your gut. Your head feels fuzzy, and you can hear someone screaming in pain from a distance. It dawns on you that you’re the one crying.

The villain above you with the blue skin rummages through your backpack, looking for something worthy of taking. As you look at him, something pops in your brain. SOS.

With your arm that isn’t in an excruciating amount of pain, you take your phone out of your pocket and send the text to Touya. You pray that he isn’t sleeping.

Please, please, don’t let him be asleep.

You curl up in a ball as passengers cower in their seats, giving their valuables and money to the thief as he goes from person to person. An explosion sounds to your left, and you wince from the vibrations in your arm.

Things are looking hazy again. You try to keep your wits about you, trying to keep your eyes open. You can only keep your lids open about halfway as you see someone step in through the side of the train where a chunk of the train’s wall has just been blown off.

The familiar white hair, burn scars, and piercings bring tears to your eyes again. “Touya…”

All you see are blue flames before everything goes black.

———-

You wake up in an ambulance. Touya says nothing to you. His only way of speaking is through the gentle squeeze of your hand. After the hospital visit, you’re released with a sling on your arm. Your shoulder and two bones in your arm are broken, but to Touya, you got off easy.

Still, nothing is said the entire way home. What could you say to him?

Sorry I snuck out. Won’t happen again.

Don’t be angry with me for waking you up in the middle of the night even though you barely get any sleep as a hero.

Thanks for saving me even though I was supposed to be asleep in my bed at home.

There’s nothing you could say to make the situation any better.

You have no idea what’s going through Touya’s mind. Knowing him, he’s probably cursing up a storm in there. He might even be considering how to punish you. That thought really scares you.

Standing in your bedroom with him, you watch him close the door. He turns to you with fury written across his features. His brows are furrowed, and he looks like he’s about to start snarling at you.

You can’t take it. You simply cannot, and you break down in front of him. Your cry is so ugly. It always has been. You’ve never been able to help the fact that you cry like a five year old.

Touya watches your face twist up in anguish, and then the waterworks begin. You latch onto his coat, looking up at him with tears rolling from your eyes and snot dripping from your nose.

“I-I’m s-s-so s-sor-ry T-Touya!”

He can barely understand you, but his heart begins to soften as he takes in everything that must be going through your head. He can put the lecture off to the side. For now, however, he needs to be your big brother.

Leading you to the bed, he has you sit down next to him. He puts an arm around you, tugging you into his side as he comforts you until you’re left sniveling into his coat.

“It was awful! He hurt me so badly, Touya-nii! My cheek hurts, and my arm hurts even worse! I don’t ever want to go outside again. Please, I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me?!”

Overwhelmed, you begin to work yourself up again the more you talk about it. Touya rubs your back. He thought he was resistant to your crying, immune even. However, here he is, holding back on giving you an earful just so he can calm you down.

It works much to his surprise. The circles he rubs into your back help comfort you. For a second time, you’re reduced to sniffles as you lean into his side. You feel exhaustion carry over you, but you don’t want to go to sleep.

You want your nii-chan to stay with you until you feel a lot better. If he leaves, you might start crying again. You don’t want that. Your nii-chan has to stay with you!

“Please, don’t leave,” you request with a solemn voice.

“Alright. I won’t leave. Don’t worry. Your big bro is here. He’s got you. You’re gonna be okay, kiddo.”

Kiddo. Normally, you’d hate that nickname. It always gave you the feeling that he saw you as nothing but a snot nosed brat. This time, the nickname feels different. It’s familiar, and it does make you feel like you’re going to be okay.

Yes, the brutal scolding can wait for tomorrow. For now, Touya needs to take care of you.

[ok-boomerang]

if those two don't kill each other, Sokka might lend a hand

a zutara drabble

HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO MY DEAREST @hneyteacup. I wrote a birthday drabble inspired by one of your faves, SPUFFY. I however have never seen Buffy and in fact I just found out the fate of Spuffy approximately 30 seconds ago lol, BUT STILL, this drabble is inspired by them, for you 💕 HBD!!!! ILY!

--

The others might buy Zuko’s little transformation, but not Katara.

She knows exactly how sympathetic he can make his sorry life seem, all in the pursuit of Fire Nation supremacy.

So that’s why she’s been interrogating Zuko in his room for the past 15 minutes. She’s made him promise he won’t fire bend at her, and she did not feel a tinge of regret when he frowned and said he would never, sounding almost hurt.

Even so, Katara stands at the ready in front of him, hands sheathed in water just in case Zuko decides to break her rule.

“So you’re telling me you saw the soldiers that were following us back in Fire Fountain City. And yet you can’t describe them?” she asks, voice dripping with disdain.

Zuko groans and rolls his eyes, almost as if this was nothing more than an annoying hassle for him rather than the serious interrogation it was. He waits a beat, staring angrily at the floor, before he lifts his head to meet her eyes.

“Well, they were human,” he says, voice annoyingly sweet. “Two legs. Two arms.”

Katara scowls.

“They were wearing helmets,” Zuko says in exasperation. “Am I supposed to be able to recognize soldiers by the way they walk?”

“Maybe!”

At this point, Sokka enters with a steaming cup of tea. He takes one look between the two—the scowl on the prince’s face and the murderous intent on Katara’s, and mutters, “Not sure you know what you’re doing, sis.”

At this, Katara transfers her glare to her brother, though he only rolls his eyes too.

Katara huffs and takes the tea that Sokka brought, silently dismissing him. Sokka sends what seems to be an apologetic look (traitor!) to Zuko before wordlessly exiting.

“It’s about time,” says Zuko when Katara hands him the mug of tea. “Hope he got it warm enough, since you’re forbidding me from bending.”

Katara ignores him. “How did you even get here?” she snaps, hoping that asking this question for the umpteenth time will expose how he’d been following them for weeks (which was likely!) or how he’d kidnapped some of their friends to get their location (even more likely!).

“I told you; I stole a war balloon and followed you from Caldera.” He takes a sip of his tea and sighs. “I’m done. Let me talk to Aang.”

“Not yet! I’m not done!”

Zuko purses his lips but doesn’t argue any longer.

“How did you break into the North Pole?” Katara finally asks.

Really? Zuko’s expression seems to ask.

For some reason, he smirks at her. “Hmm, I’m not sure.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m trying to remember,” he says, putting down his tea to make a show of tapping his chin. “It was very traumatic.”

“How long are you going to pull this crap?”

“How long are you going to keep me prisoner in my own room?”

Katara sniffs. “I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me something worthwhile.” Until he proves to her that allowing him to stay here will have some sort of benefit.

“Fine,” Zuko says, lying back and stretching out on his bed. One arm holds his head up as he watches Katara over his nose. “We can stay here all day and all night, with you—what did you call it?—interrogating me.” He smirks again, the crooked expression on his face downright infuriating.

Katara abruptly changes tactics, crossing her arms and stepping toward him, the water falling from her hands in large splashes that she ignores. “You know what, I don’t think you want me to leave you alone,” she says slowly, her lip curling in satisfaction. “I’m the only one who will talk to you, anyway.”

Zuko’s smirk falls, and Katara feels a little flame of triumph in her chest roar to life.

“Right, I don’t want you to leave me alone,” he parrots, the bite back in his voice. “I definitely want to be constantly reminded how much you hate me.”

Katara does not feel another twinge of regret. She does not push anything away.

Instead, she falls to her knees with a mocking gasp.

“Does his highness require better accommodations?” she says, her voice warbling. “Better amenities?”

“Katara—” Zuko says, unamused.

“An innocent victim to burn, perhaps?”

“Katara, please—” Zuko says, voice more serious. But she keeps going.

“Do you require a maiden before you cooperate?” she taunts, crawling toward him and exposing her neck. “What about me? Will I do?”

At this point, Zuko is exhaling smoke, but he’s not bending. She wonders how far she can goad him. She crawls closer until she’s at the edge of his bed and mockingly reaching toward him.

“Please, your highness, what must we do to please you?!” she all but shrieks, vaguely feeling like she would make a great actress as Zuko slowly shakes his head, as if to say What did I do to deserve this?

Well, she can think of a lot of things!

Just when she thinks of naming all those things to Zuko, she suddenly hears the swish of a cloak behind her and the sound of wood hitting the ground. Her and Zuko both turn toward the noise, to see Aang, a confused smile on his face, his ears a little pink, and his glider in his hand.

“Um—Katara—I think I’ll talk to Zuko now,” says Aang slowly, eying her strangely. She’s about to ask what’s up with him before she realizes her arms are sprawled beseechingly toward Zuko, her body half on his bed and half on the ground.

“Right, yes!” she says, getting up daintily and wiping her tunic with her hands as if what she’d been doing was perfectly normal. “I’ll just be—”

Inexplicably, she looks back to Zuko, who is also watching her, bemused.

“Bye!” she squeaks to the room with a hurried wave.

She’s talking to Aang, of course. Not Zuko.

Definitely not Zuko.

[cosmal]

𝐄𝐠𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐠 — 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

day six of my christmas drabbles advent calendar

summary — james looks after you when you’re drunk on eggnog and craving a christmas kebab.

warnings/tags — fem!afab!reader, she/her, drunk!reader, mentions of throw up

James has spent the last twenty minutes looking for you.

Remus said you were in the kitchen. When you weren’t there, Alice, who was in the kitchen, had said you’d moved to the sofas with Sirius. Sirius, sat by himself on a three-seater, said you’d up and left five minutes ago.

James goes crazy searching Mary Macdonald’s house for you. Eventually, when he almost starts to panic, he finds you sitting down against the far wall in the lounge room like he hasn’t looked for you there three times. He sighs, a little annoyed, a lot relieved.

You’re giggling in your lap when he reaches you. He thinks you’re fucking adorable. “Hey, lovely,” he says, all sweet and natural, like the charmer he is.

You look up from where you’re fiddling with a ladder in your tights, right above the top of your white leg warmers. Something that James thinks are terribly cute every time you put them on.

You seem head-spun when you catch him. Then, you seem awfully happy. “Jamie!” you hiccup. It’s so cute James swears he’s dizzier than you.

Your leg warmers. Your small, tipsy hiccup. Everything about you tonight radiates everything lovely.

“Hey, cute thing.” He’s never called you that before. You wrinkle your face.

“Cute,” another hiccup, “cute thing?”

He crouches down so he’s at your level, splaying his hands over your knees, squeezing the fat there. “Yeah,” he says, “y’cute.”

You pull your legs closer to your chest and James wobbles. He stops still when you start kissing his knuckles. His hands tighten in their selfish grip and if he thought you’d bruise, he’d stop. But you’re kissing him like you really, desperately need to.

You pull your mouth away like you’re a little embarrassed and his knuckles tingle.

“You know you shouldn’t be on the floor this drunk.” He really can’t tell how drunk you are just yet, but at one of Mary MacDonald’s parties, he’s too aware of how you could be.

“You have really pretty hands,” you tell him, blinking slowly at him like you’ve never actually seen his hands before. He pretends you don’t ignore him.

“Thanks, lovely,” he says, “you smell like nutmeg.”

You snort, “You don’t know what nutmeg smells like.” You laugh because he’s terribly funny — or maybe you are.

“No,” he agrees, “but I know what eggnog smells like.”

You gasp like you’ve been caught with your hand in the biscuit tin. Your cheeky smile grows into something worse. James loves it.

“Marlene is really pervasive,” you say, suddenly stern like you’re entirely serious.

“Pervasive?” he snorts. He doesn’t mean to.

“Yeah,” you nod gleefully, disheveled hair falling in places that look annoying. He moves to tuck them away like the lovely boyfriend he is. He ignores the rumple in your face when he rubs your cheek for a little too long.

He knows, obviously being the sober one, that you mean persuasive. He truly thinks it’s adorable but his knees are starting to ache and he wants to move past it without disagreeing with a drunk you. He also wants you home, in bed, asleep and you’re makeup off. Not in that order, he knows better than that.

“Right, well,” he sniffs, standing upright so he’s above you, “tell Marlene that we appreciate the eggnog,” James doesn’t, he thinks is horrible, “but we must be going.”

You duck your head down again and James thinks you’re going to be sick. He imagines a pool of chucked up eggnog in your lap and momentarily feels sick himself. Then, you’re sighing, “God,” you throw your head back up and James thinks if you keep it up you might pass out, “I’m so fucking hungry.” You’ve moved past the persuasive talk, clearly.

“Well, if you let me help you up,” He doesn’t suggest you getting yourself up, knowing what happened the last time. The scar on your thigh an awful reminder. “I will take you to get food.” It’s cold, so cold his cheeks are a shade redder than normal, the snow hasn’t stopped all day, and he really shouldn’t, but his girlfriend is hungry. And he’s James Potter.

You look up at him, eyes and the curve of your neck glowing under the shine of the disco ball Sirius has hung up for Mary and you look the happiest you have all night. James would feel offended if he didn’t know what it feels like to be drunk and hungry.

“Really?”

He wriggles his fingers, arms outstretched to you, “Seriously.” Also feeling offended you think he wouldn’t take you to get food, would be stupid. He does though.

You reach your arms up like you might grab onto his and then they fall back down over your bent legs. “Kebabs?”

He nods, acting like he’s genuinely considering his options when kebabs have been on his mind all night, “Sounds good.”

Later that night, sitting in the best kebab diner in the whole of the UK (never argue with James or Frank about this, they’ll fight to the death) James thinks you’ve somehow gotten cuter.

The flickering LED light casts you absolutely warm, something that he swears should not make you look prettier, face shiny with grease and mayonnaise, he wants to savour this moment forever. It’s something so not Christmas, and also exactly what Christmas is about, all at once.

You’re half sober now, though your movements are still slow and sticky. Every time he watches a piece of lettuce fall onto the table below you, he grimaces, but you’re really trying your best.

Your motor spatial skills are worse than normal, he thinks with a total fondness, but he’s not one to stop you from stuffing your face when you’d told him how hungry you were the entire drive over. I’m so hungry, I could eat a donkey is what you’d told him, face pressed up against the cold window of his car. James laughed a little too much.

“Christmas kebabs are the best kebabs,” you tell him, mouth full of chicken, your eyes a little droopy. 

James agrees but his mouth is just as full. He has the soberness in him to keep his mouth shut.

“You know what’s better, though?”

“What?” he asks after he swallows.

“Christmas pudding,” you smile.

“I have some at home,” he grins, way too knowingly of what you’re about to say.

You stand, too quickly for his liking when you wobble around. “Well c’mon then, what are we waiting for?”

“You’ve barely finished your kebab!” he says, standing anyways.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Right.”

You pass out still in your full face of makeup, and fancy clothes when you get home, the thought of Christmas pudding completely gone. It takes James and hour to get you clean and back into bed.

[crazyk-imagine]

Being Luffy's Stray (Version B)

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

- No one knew you were there, not until they had to fight Klahadore, which was annoying to no end

- You never liked him or his crew which is why you watched as the Straw hats fought, tail flicking when you heard the sounds of the house becoming more and more damaged

- You couldn't interfere though, if others found out, namely the demon pirate hunter himself, you might be done for

- Luffy happily pet you when you finally appeared

"You were worried about a cat?" Nami asks.

"Not really," he scratches your chin. "I know she can handle herself."

"You're weird, you know that," Usopp tells him.

The rubber man shrugs.

- After that, you were hoping nothing else would happen, you'd like to be able to enjoy a day without fighting anyone

- Oh, how life is a bitch and throws a curveball your way

- You woke up and found yourself in fog, but decide to go back to your nap before you clawed someone

- The next thing you know, you're in a restaurant

"Welcome to the shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambiance is the food. My name is Sanji, what can I get you?"

You meow at him without realizing it, if you were in your human form, you'd be blushing

"I'm sorry but we cannot allow pets in here but since the old man is busy, I'll let it slide," he smirks at the rubber man.

You purr as a thank you.

- And, then the captain makes the biggest mistake ever and tries to do an iou instead of paying which earns him a non-paying job as a dish washer

"Shouldn't you leave her on the boat? I don't think the kitchen is a very safe or sanitary environment for a cat," Nami tells him.

Luffy shrugs. "Not much they can do after hours, right?"

"Luffy."

"Fine."

- You snuck out to check on him, watching as they helped a drifting pirate

- Luffy smiles when he notices you hanging in the shadows

- Your paws running across the floor alert the chef

"You found us."

You pause, wondering if he knows who you are but realize he's talking as if you're the rubber man's pet

He bends down, one knee on the ground with one arm resting on his bent knee as he holds out a piece of meat for you, letting you take your time coming to him

You sniff, making sure he's not trying to kill you

- Thus, the start of an interesting relationship between you two

- The real kicker was when everyone found out the secret only Luffy knew about, and it was only because Arlong and his crew showed up

- After kicking the chef into a table, scaring the bejesus out of Usopp, and pushing Luffy into a wall

- Let's just say, they had it coming

- You run from kitchen door, using the toppled table as leverage, shifting midair to kick Arlong in his abdomen

"Don't mess with my friends."

"There she is the dead cat back again." He smirks, "and here I thought I'd killed you."

"Well, you know a cats got nine lives and I'd never give one to you."

- Luffy sends you away

- You take care of the other two, literally kicking them out (or at least, close to the door)

- You run over to Usopp and Sanji

"So, you're the cat?"

You stare you. "Does it look like it's the right opportunity to ask that?"

He chuckles, groaning soon after.

You roll your eyes and haul them up off the stairs by the collar of their shirts.

Usopp whines the whole way

- The real interesting thing was when you all found yourself fighting Arlong's pirates

- You didn't plan on shifting into something bigger, but it was necessary

- Usopp ran to the side when he saw you, a large maroon jaguar running towards him (but not aiming for him)

- Zoro jumps beside you, using his katana to take out the fishman trying to grab your hind leg. "Glad to see you decided to join."

"Shouldn’t you be on bed rest?"

"Someone’s gotta watch Luffy's back."

- You launch yourself across the way, clawing a fishman trying to punch the chef only for him to save himself

He turns around, smirking down at you, "I don't want such a gorgeous feline like yourself to ruin your claws."

"Don't flatter yourself, I'd never break a claw on any one of these guys."

- The building collapses and you change back into your human form, just in time for Nami to hug you (and you give Sanji a hug, so he got one too)

- You're just happy it's all over even though there was a slight mishap regarding Luffy’s grandpa

- After you all said your dreams, that's when the real adventure began

[shares-a-vest]

"My taaaaape!"

Steve bolts from his office desk tucked away in the corner of his bedroom, down the hallway and into the living room to find Joanie kneeling on the floor, staring at a static television.

She senses his presence and lets out a dramatic whine.

"My tape," she repeats, gesturing at the TV with such force her whole body shakes. "It stopped working!"

She chokes out the last word and lowers down until she is face-down on the carpet. Joanie isn't really one for tantrums per se, but she does possess Eddie's theatrics.

Yeah sure, Steve knows she's upset but the silence as she lays on the floor is made all the more a show as their black cat Ozzy sniffs around her slippers before walking off nonchalantly.

Steve chuckles before stepping over his daughter so he can kneel in front of the TV unit.

"What are you doing?" Joanie asks, curious and suddenly breathing down his neck.

"The tape is jammed," he replies, looking through the flap.

He presses a few buttons, then holds down the eject button, his go-to troubleshooting method.

Nothing.

"Tell me what happened?" he asks, moving to sit criss-cross on the floor and bumping straight into Joanie who, also like Eddie, has no concept of personal space.

"Lumiere was about to sing 'Be My Guest' and it stopped!" she frowns and folds her arms with a huff. God forbid technical difficulties interrupt Pyjama Sunday, aka the day Joanie has the run of the house while Steve catches up on work he has neglected.

He places his hands on Joanie's arms, gently rubbing them as he smiles, "Good thing I used to work at a video store."

Eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree, she beams, "You can fix it!"

And yeah, their daughter might have also inherited Eddie's lack of volume control too.

Eddie arrives home from his impromptu studio session later than he expected. He lowers his keys into the bowl on the hallstand, stepping carefully and trying not to make a noise. At least for long enough to muster up something to charm Steve into not being annoyed about him coming home after dinner time.

But there is silence blanketing their apartment. Too much silence.

"Damn it!" comes Steve's voice from the vicinity of the kitchen.

Then Joanie chimes, "You swore!"

Eddie frowns as he hears a coin drop in the swear jar.

Steve mutters something. Then silence again.

Eddie tsks under his breath. Whatever is going on, it sounds like the family swear jar is being abused. Steve originally brought it into being (one of those glass candy jars that is like an old person's rite of passage) as a way to stop Eddie from cussing so much in front of their daughter. But, her being a little shit (and yeah, the brief mention of the money eventually going towards a puppy) has led to coins going straight into the blasted jar for anything Joanie remotely considers a swear word. Including replacements for swears like 'blasted'.

He grumbles as he toes his shoes off, working quickly in order to go rescue Steve from Joanie's militant, penny-pinching authority.

He walks into the kitchen to find both Steve and Joanie hovering over what looks like the VHS player, now in parts scattered across the dining table.

"Hello," he says, dipping his head two separate times in a feeble attempt to gain their attention.

But they merely squeak out high-pitched hums in unison, not looking up from their patient. Considering the doctor's headband squished onto Steve's head and the plastic stethoscope around Joanie's neck, it all looks more like a surgical procedure than a fix-it job.

He glances over to the kitchen sink, spotting evidence of a quick cereal-for-dinner and sighs with relief. Looks like Steve has been too distracted to fuss about dinner anyway.

He slips onto a seat and Joanie finally looks over. He jumps as Meatloaf clambers up from her lap, wiggling around as the poor little thing attempts to paw his way up onto the table.

"What's the prognosis, Doc?" he asks, taking the little brown cat and scooping him up to cradle his wonky back legs.

"Did you know dad worked at a video store!" Joanie beams with wide-eyed facination as she props her chin on her elbow.

"Thought Keith was the resident handyman at Family Video?" Eddie chuckles, caging Meatloaf to his chest to stop the little critter from squirming around because he isn't in Steve's burly arms.

Steve shrugs, finally looking up as he shoots back, "I fixed stuff too!"

There's probably a long-hybernating argument in there somewhere that involves Robin and Steve's Family Video video tech prowess, but he doesn't press further as Steve dives straight back into his handy work, poking his tongue out in concentration.

"We went to the Hi-fi store and got a new one of these!" Joanie offers, holding up some spindly socket thing he assumes is some internal mechanism for the player. "Then we got ice creams on the walk home!"

It must have been an adventure because by the time Steve has the VHS player plugged back in and working, with Beauty and the Beast playing after a dramatic play-by-play of the day's events as told by their overly-excited daughter, Eddie finds himself squished on the couch between two snoring and squirmy beans with tousled brown hair.

Plus Meatloaf tucked in the crook of Steve's arm, rolling around trying to gain the attention of the only other creature remotely conscious.

More of Steve, Eddie, Joanie and their menagerie of cats HERE (I'm thinking of expanding this little AU out a little more for a bit)

[robertdowneyjjr]

so none of this is what any of you asked for, but part 3 of the stonyclunks soulmates au @stark-and-shield @polizwrites @soliloquent-stark

(parts one and two)

tony spends his flight home from london agonizing over what he should do next.

on the one hand, his feelings about captain america haven’t changed. if anything, he’s now even more adamant that he wants nothing to do with him, because not only does tony now have proof that cap is a total dick, he also now feels like all that childhood trauma?? was the result of a lie. now he knows that he grew up being compared to someone who isn’t even really as great as his dad made him seem. so maybe now he has some validation (and vindication) that howard was wrong. but still, he could have just done without the years of feeling like he wasn’t good enough.

on the other hand, he’s a hopeless romantic at heart and he’s always dreamed of meeting and growing old with his soulmate. he grew up surrounded by them — his parents are soulmates. ana and edwin jarvis are soulmates. aunt peggy and uncle daniel are soulmates. that nature-defying love has always been the shining example of what real happiness is to him and he’s been desperate for it since he was 25, the average age when people meet their soulmates. the fact that he lived until he was 38 and still never met his soulmate had hurt him everyday. and sure, he’s happy in other ways. he’s content with how his life has turned out. he has amazing friends. he has a family that supports him. but god, he wants to share it with someone who he knows is fated to be his.

now, he’s kind of annoyed that he and his dad have another thing in common, what with howard not meeting maria until he was in his 40’s. and at this point he’s starting to think that being soulmates with captain america is some sort of sick cosmic joke that the universe is playing on him.

also he’s really, really pissed that the words that are permanently marked on his skin are so ugly.

at dinner before their night at the opera, tony tells maria, “mama, i met my soulmate.”

“oh that’s wonderful, antonio! tell me all about them!”

maria can hardly contain her excitement, and tony feels awful that the news he’s about to share isn’t worth her feeling this happy about.

“it was two weeks ago, a total accident. he was really mean,” he explains softly. if they weren’t in public right now he might even have just shown her the words on his thigh, but he knows her protective instincts would rear their head immediately and she’d skip the opera just to get started on hunting down the man who spit such vitriol at her son.

“oh. well, has he apologized for it?” maria asks. “i hope he has some basic manners, at least. i won’t allow someone who treats my son such poorly into the family, whether you’re soulmates or not.”

“he… has. quite dramatically,” tony says, thinking about the instagram post that had been causing a media frenzy for a week now.

“well, good. he should know you’re to be treasured,” maria sniffs. “when will i get to meet him?”

“i haven’t seen him again since. i don’t know if i really want to.”

“why not, bambino? you’ve always wanted to meet your soulmate.”

“mama… it’s captain america.”

maria looks around the restaurant. “where? i thought howard was with him tonight. crazy old man, still thinks he’s in his prime and trying to keep up with people half his age.”

“no, mama. my soulmate. he’s captain america.”

“oh. oh dear.”

“yeah.” tony picks up his fork and starts eating again. “i think i might just be better off dying alone.”

maria doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. suddenly all the excessive whining from steve that howard has been telling her about makes a lot more sense. she knows that steve is a good man. maybe not perfect like howard always made him out to be. but kind, nonetheless. he would be good to tony, good for him, she’s sure. tony just needs to give him a chance.

but also, like she said, tony should be treasured. if steve wants to make up for how they started off, he needs to pull out all the stops. tony deserves nothing less than the best, after all. and to be honest, maria thinks she might enjoy watching steve grovel a bit. she’s also looking forward to making fun of howard for having such an idiot as a best friend and future son-in-law.

so she starts planning.

“tonio, darling, why don’t you stay over at the mansion tonight? ana was just saying we haven’t had brunch with you in ages.”

“sure, mama.”

under the table, she texts howard.

M: is steve still pouting about his life?

H: unfortunately. i’m just glad beer does nothing for him. i can’t imagine how much worse this all could be if he were drunk.

M: poor boy. maybe he’s also feeling a bit lonely. there are plenty of rooms in the mansion if he doesn’t want to go home to an empty apartment tonight.

H: he might like that. i’ll let him know.