#How To Get Taller Exercises At Home

[hellsquills]

Do you think Ford knew how old he was when he came back? Because I don't think so.

He's been all around the multiverse, in places that definitely didn't follow the laws of physics of his home dimension. Time works differently depending on the place he lands on, and he never gets used to any of them because he knows he'll have to leave sooner or later.

So time passes. He can feel himself age, of course, but he doesn't know how long it's been since he fell through the portal. When he looks at himself in the mirror, he can see wrinkles paired with new scars, and his hair is getting grayer, but that could simply be a sign of stress. And sure, his body hurts when he wakes up, but he's constantly on the move and sleeping anywhere he can, obviously he's not going to be in the best shape! All things considered, he's a pretty fit man for any age, and whatever years he's been alive for is not his priority right now.

When he comes back home, after his first encounter with Stan, he finally gets a moment to think about his new and old family. His brother looks older, obviously, and certainly different from what he imagined (not that he thought about him often, of course not). His hair is whiter than his own, and he has even more wrinkles than him! Just how badly was he taking care of himself in the... how many years... wait, did he say 30?!

I don't think Ford was necessarily thinking of a higher or lower number. I don't think he expected anything more or less: the way he sees it, it could've been anywhere from 10 to 1000 years. Time was meaningless between dimensions. I think that the sole reminder that time still passed was what got to him.

That shock came full force after Weirdmageddon, when he realized that Stan was his same age, despite the differences in their physiques. It was the fact that they were both around 60 years old, and they had been apart for 40 years. Two whole thirds of their lives. They were supposed to grow old together, maybe not in the same house (or boat), but close to each other. That, paired with how old and worn down Stan looks, Ford can't help but feel like he's now years younger than him, and he hates thinking about it because with the way Stan had been living for the last 40 years, just how much longer- no, stop, don't think about it.

Ford's paranoia turns into hypochondria, but towards his brother. This translates as Ford desperately trying to cut Stan's bad habits (such as alcohol and smoking), making sure he eats well (Ford can't cook for shit) and semi-forcing him to do some exercise. Stan is not on board with these measures, and he lets his brother know just that because he's being bossy and annoying and he would like to enjoy his amnesia in peace please. Ford is as stubborn as a mule, but eventually he gives up and just begs Stan to please consider some of his suggestions because he wants him to be better. Stan still refuses, but every once in a while Ford catches him doing some exercise by himself or ordering a non alcoholic drink, and it makes him happy.

When they return to Gravity Falls, the twins look the most identical they've looked since they were like 10: Stan's eyes have a shine that Soos had never seen before, and his new and improved posture makes him look taller, like the weight of the world had been lifted off of him. Ford, on the other hand, has a fuller face and body, his expression is now softer and somewhat kinder, and he walks much more carelessly, like he's strolling instead of marching.

Ford doesn't care how old he is anymore, because now he's growing old next to his brother.

[moluvies]

crawl home ꔛ reiner braun x reader

a/n: spent way too long writing this bc i love reiner

words: 9.3k

cw: lowkey bff!jean, she/her pronouns and fem anatomy reader, soldier!reader, pre-timeskip friends/lovers, betrayal, forgiveness, reiner is pathetic, angsty, kinda serving friends to enemies to lovers, SMUT!!, oral (f!reader recieving), pinv sex, breeding, MDNI !!

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Reiner was taller now, even if it was hard to believe. Maybe not as tall as Bertholdt was, but taller. Not only that, but while he maintained some of the more prominent muscles in his figure, it was noticeable how much weight he had lost. His hair was slightly longer - maybe he didn't keep up with cutting it as much as before. But to be fair, the change wasn't necessarily drastic. Not like the amount of facial hair he let grow out, which was completely ridiculous but so on brand for him.

But what did you care?

Your gaze lingered on him a moment longer, practically having to force yourself to look away from the man you swore was dead to you. But he wasn't, was he? He was standing right there, talking to Connie and Jean like nothing happened. As if the night prior Jean didn't literally punch him. Did they all just forgive him suddenly? Traitors.

You sighed. Maybe you were being dramatic.

The only thing you wanted to hear now was the sound of the water swishing beneath the boat, maybe even a seagull. But it was like you couldn't drown out his voice. It hadn't changed. It was exactly as you'd remembered it being about four years ago. Though, back then you swore you'd found it charming.

Odiha. That's where you were going, what you were focusing on, in order to service the flying boat that would help you and your fellow scouts reach the Rumbling, you needed to reach Odiha. To stop Eren. So why was Reiner's presence bothering you so much?

Reiner was your best friend at one point. When you first joined the cadet corps, it was obvious you were nervous to anyone who took a second to look. And for that, most people didn't see you as a potential reliable comrade.

Most people.

Reiner liked you. He had once playfully claimed you made funny faces during sparring exercises and took you under his wing, seeing your potential. Back then, Reiner had a talent for making anyone feel seen. Even stubborn cadets like Annie seemed to at least tolerate him, maybe even respect him.

So how could you not fall in love with him?

It was ridiculous how quick it happened. You were sure there were other girls vying for his attention just like you were, but you swore Reiner gave you special treatment. It was stupid.

Reiner would see you entering the mess hall and instantly make sure there was a spot open at his table for you. Bertholdt had typically sat across from him, but most of the time there was a spot directly next to Reiner conveniently available just for you. He'd call you by your last name over to their table, always a smile on his face, always so damn sure of himself.

"Bread?" He had offered, causing you to shake your head with a nervous smile on your face. Nervous. Not nervous enough, apparently. But that didn't matter—not when Reiner was offering you bread, or to train after hours with you, or take you into Stohess one weekend when you mentioned wanting a change of scenery.

"I know you wanted that muffin," Reiner said regretfully as you walked away from the bakery stall at the food market. "Sorry I couldn't get it for you."

You shook your head, mouth full from the cookie he'd already got for you just ten minutes prior. "It's fine, really," you assured him, words slightly muffled from the pastry.

Reiner simply smiled at you, taking a bite of his own cookie.

When you returned to Trost that evening as the sun was just beginning to set, the teasing from your comrades was relentless.

"Woah!" Connie had exclaimed, realization dawning on his face as he looked at you and Reiner entering the mess hall together. "Where've you been all day?" He asked, nosy as ever even if the answer was plain as day.

"A date. Is that really such a foreign concept to you?" Reiner had teased, making Connie grin mischievously.

A date. You had your suspicions that that's what it was, but Reiner hadn't explicitly said it. Not until Connie asked. The straightforward explanation made your heart race, gaze dropping instantly to your shoes as Connie's laughter filled the space.

"So that's why you've been polishing your boots and actually combing your hair. I was wondering what the special occasion was," Jean had said to you, his brow raised and arms crossed in a way that was so distinctly Jean. Despite the words, you were sure it was his own way of approving.

"Oh, my God, is that a hickey?" Sasha suddenly butt in, moving into your personal space. Her hands held your head in place as she stared at the scrape from training on your forehead.

"Hickey—what—Sasha, that's on my forehead!" You had defended, but it was too late. Multiple other cadets heard the word hickey and ran with it, causing a flurry of gossip surrounding you and Reiner. And Reiner didn't deny it. He just smiled at you, and somehow that made you feel better.

There were plenty of times he'd made you feel better. An embarrassing amount of times. A pathetic amount of times, considering what he might've been comforting you about.

You sniffled, attempting to straighten yourself out before dinner was served in the mess hall as you sat on a log on the outskirts of the training grounds, taking in the yellow and orange blend of sunset before you. Even with the view, your mind was elsewhere.

It hit you every now and then at random. Despite it happening almost five years ago, you had pushed the grief down as far as you could bury it when your family was killed during the breach of Wall Maria. You were so young when it happened, but suddenly you were alone. When the Armored had broken through the inner gate of the wall, your childhood home had been crushed by a stray boulder.

You were lucky. You came to terms with that at a young age. Far too lucky. It chipped away at you everyday since, even without you realizing. What made you so fortunate to have escaped? Avoided certain death like your family couldn't? What made that soldier step in and save you but not them?

The wondering was pointless, though. They died and you didn't. For some reason fate had kept you alive until now. And for that, you had to live with a purpose. Even if now that purpose was wiping your snotty nose and trying to compose yourself enough to go eat with your friends.

"Bread?"

You had looked up to see none other than Reiner holding out a small loaf, a second one for himself in his right hand. Hesitantly, you had taken it, using the moment Reiner sat down beside you to attempt to discreetly wipe at the tears on your cheeks.

He didn't ask. You supposed it wasn't his style, or maybe he just assumed you didn't want to talk about it.

Reiner simply took a bite of his bread next to you, leaning forward as he chewed. After moments of silence, Reiner looked at you for a second and then towards the sunset. The corner of his mouth tugged upwards into a soft, almost wistful smile, but he said nothing.

"What?" You finally asked.

He almost replied with "nothing," you could tell, but he sighed and leaned back, either hands at his sides resting on the log. "You know what I miss most about home?" Reiner asked, his gaze locked with the sky. "The way the sun would rise over the hills," he stated.

You realized you'd never talked about it—why you were crying that day. To be honest, you didn't want to. Something about his presence had just put you at ease back then, to the point you forgot all of your troubles.

When graduation drew near, you weren't even sure what Reiner's plan was. Everyone knew his perfect scores got him into the top ten, eligible to enlist as a military police officer in the interior. That would've been great for him, but you weren't sure where that left you.

You weren't with Reiner when the Collosal titan had appeared and breached the wall into Trost. But you were there when Eren was discovered to be a titan himself.

From there, something in Reiner had shifted.

Back then, you figured it was realization of some sort. Realization that things were complicated, things were scary, things were real...

Things got even more real when Marco died. Marco wasn't someone you were close with, but he was always there, always kind. If someone as capable as Marco, as determined, as strong, as kind as Marco could die, what would that mean for you and your friends?

Many cadets dropped out that day, despite graduation being so close. You almost did as well. Especially upon seeing Jean's reaction to Marco's death, you didn't know if you had the guts to continue.

But Reiner always had to step in.

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for," he said, his strong hand on your shoulder. "Look at me," he commanded softly. You hesitated but met his eyes. They were serious, and almost cold now. Different from how they used to look at you. "I know you've got what it takes."

And that was that. Along with Jean, who was sure he'd join the military police, you joined the Survey Corps, falling under the wing of the Commander Erwin Smith.

You were terrified, but you had Reiner.

Things in your lives seemed to come to a halt when Annie was revealed to be a titan. And then Ymir, along with Krista being some kind of royalty and living with a completely different name—Historia.

It was all confusing and overwhelming, and you really wished Reiner was there for you. And he was, physically, always there. But then he was distant. Even when sitting directly beside you during meals like he did before, his focus was obviously elsewhere.

And then it happened.

You revisited that day often. When Reiner and Bertholdt transformed, and everything you thought you knew came crashing down.

You couldn't even cry, or scream, or do much of anything. You'd learned a long time ago to accept these things, but God did it hurt.

Then he was gone. He and Bertholdt, back to wherever they came from—their "hometown" as they so often called it. You didn't know back then, and you'd honestly stopped caring.

When Eren was rescued from them, he tried telling you on the way back what Reiner had said in response to him screaming at them. Eren had brought you up, telling Reiner about all the pain and trauma you endured years ago when the inner gate of Wall Maria was broken and your family was killed.

Sorry. Sorry was what he said, according to Eren.

What a coward.

The next time you saw Reiner was a few months later. But it wasn't really him. It was the Armored titan, the same one you remember from childhood who had breached the wall. And now here you were, back in Shiganshina with your fellow scouts.

The bloodshed was monumental in Shiganshina. Bertholdt had died, but Reiner lived—barely. You weren't there when Hange and Jean had captured him. And you were grateful you weren't. Just three months after discovering his true self, you knew you'd do something stupid like let him go if you had been there. But that part wasn't really up to you, and he got away regardless.

That's when you discovered the truth of everything. The titans, the walls, Paradis, Eldians.

You wished you could hate him. But everyday you'd hoped for the day you could speak to him again, just once.

Those feelings seemed to have formed into anger as the years passed. And by the time you and your fellow soldiers raided Liberio, you basically lived in a shell. You promised your comrades you weren't going to allow feelings to get in the way, and you delivered.

So much happened in such a short amount of time it was difficult to even remember it properly.

You remembered seeing him—really him—for the first time again on Paradis. He was almost pathetic looking now, but a part of your heart still yearned for him.

Were the feelings even the same, though?

You and the rest of the scouts had to compromise and join forces with the Warriors in order to put a stop to Eren's plan to go through with the Rumbling. It was the first night that Jean brutally punched Reiner at the campfire. Years ago, you might've blindly taken the side of Reiner. Hell, if he said a word to you since being back on the island maybe you would've defended him. But he didn't. So you let it happen.

When the kids, Gabi and Falco, rushed to Reiner's side after the altercation, you felt as though you needed to physically drag yourself away to avoid saying anything to him.

Instead, you found Jean, cooling off in the outskirts of the woods. His head was in his hands, leaning against a tree as he shook.

You placed a gentle hand on his arm, causing him to jump. You made eye contact, but he was quick to look away. Though, your small touch grounded him.

"Sorry about that," Jean apologized. "I got carried away." His voice was breaking, you'd noticed, but you shook your head.

"Don't apologize," you replied.

You made a choice that evening. The choice to stay loyal to your comrades instead of blindly following Reiner like you did when you were a dumb kid. But it didn't make it any less difficult when he stood there on the boat looking almost like he had years ago.

The expression on his face was that of determination. And the people at his side were none other than Jean and Connie.

You scoffed, pulling your gaze away from the men and staring off into the vast ocean—the ocean you didn't even knew existed years ago; the ocean Reiner didn't bother mentioning to you those nights you sat together for hours.

You'd gone over every emotion the past four years. You saw his side as best you could. Even so, it was hard to forgive. Especially when Reiner himself hadn't made an effort to speak to you.

"Hey." You didn't look up, you knew it was Jean.

"You gonna talk to loverboy or what?" He asked after a beat of silence. You finally lifted your head to shoot him a glare. Jean simply smiled, looking back at where Reiner and Connie were still talking and then back to you, sitting beside you on the bench.

You remained quiet for a moment after Jean sat beside you, your fingers absently picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. The gentle rock of the boat beneath you seemed to match the churning in your stomach.

"I'm not talking to him," you finally said, keeping your voice low despite the distance between you and the others.

Jean snorted. "Right. Because ignoring him is working so well for you."

You shot him another glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've been staring at him every chance you get since yesterday." Jean's knowing smile widened as your cheeks flushed with heat. "Don't worry, he's been doing the same thing."

Something fluttered in your chest at his words, but you quickly tamped it down. "Has he... said anything?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice smaller than you intended.

Jean chuckled, that same knowing look in his eyes that made you want to shove him off the bench and into the sea. But then his expression softened.

"No," he admitted. "But it's getting annoying watching you two dance around each other like this. You look at him when he's not looking, he looks at you when you turn away. It's really embarassing for both of you."

You sighed, turning your gaze back to the endless blue horizon. The vastness of the ocean still amazed you, even now. "Well, if he wanted to talk, he would've said something by now."

"Maybe he's thinking the same thing about you," Jean pointed out.

"That's different," you protested weakly.

"How?"

You opened your mouth to respond but found you didn't have an answer that wouldn't sound childish. Jean was right, and you both knew it.

"Look," Jean said, his voice gentler now, "I'm not exactly Reiner's biggest fan. You were there when I..." He flexed his hand, the same one he'd used to punch Reiner the night before, his knuckles reddened now. "But we're all stuck here together now. And whatever was between you two—"

"There was nothing between us," you interrupted, the lie bitter on your tongue.

Jean gave you a flat look. "You're a terrible liar. Always have been."

You looked down at your hands, suddenly finding your fingernails fascinating. "It doesn't matter now anyway."

"Maybe not," Jean agreed. "But you're never going to stop wondering if you don't at least talk to him once. Really talk to him."

The silence between you stretched for several long moments as you considered his words. The rational part of you knew he was right. This tension, this unspoken thing hanging in the air between you and Reiner, it would only continue to distract you. And with what lay ahead—with Eren and the Rumbling—you couldn't afford distractions. And more importantly, you didn't want to die with regrets.

"Fine," you muttered, standing up with a resigned sigh.

Without waiting for some type of reaction from Jean, you turned and made your way across the deck toward where Reiner and Connie stood. Your heart hammered against your ribs with each step, and you briefly considered turning back. But Jean's words echoed in your mind—you would never stop wondering if you didn't at least try.

Connie noticed you first, his animated conversation with Reiner faltering as you approached. Reiner turned, and for a moment, you were transported back to those days in the mess hall—him turning to call your name, saving you a seat beside him.

But his eyes weren't the same. They carried a weight now, dark shadows beneath them speaking of sleepless nights and unshakable guilt.

"Um, I'll just..." Connie mumbled, already backing away, but you barely registered his departure.

You stopped a few feet from Reiner, suddenly unsure what to say. All the anger, all the hurt, all the things you'd rehearsed in your head over the years—none of it seemed right now that he was standing in front of you.

"Can we talk?" The words came out steadier than you felt.

Reiner looked surprised, as if that was the last thing he expected to hear from you. He nodded once, hesitantly. "Yeah. Of course."

You nodded, and without another word, turned to lead the way to the stairs. You could feel his presence behind you as you descended into the dimly lit interior of the ship, the wooden steps creaking beneath your weight. The air was cooler here, tinged with the scent of salt and damp wood.

The sleeping cabins were arranged in a narrow corridor, small compartments with barely enough room for the bunks they contained. Most were empty now, with everyone gathered on the upper deck to watch the endless expanse of ocean passing by. You chose one at random, pushing open the door and stepping inside.

The room was tight, with just enough space for two narrow bunks built into the walls and a small porthole that cast a circle of fading evening light across the wooden floor. You sat on one of the bunks, the thin mattress sinking beneath your weight. Reiner hesitated at the doorway for a moment before entering and sitting on the opposite bunk, the space between you barely more than an arm's length but feeling like an unbridgeable chasm.

Reiner's shoulders hunched slightly, his large frame somehow seeming smaller in the confined space. His eyes darted around the cabin before finally settling on his hands, which were clasped tightly in his lap.

You found yourself remembering another small space you'd shared once, years ago during a thunderstorm. The supply shed had been the closest shelter when the rain had caught you both during evening training. You'd sat side by side on crates of gear, listening to the rain hammer against the roof, shoulders touching as Reiner told stories about his hometown to distract you from the thunder. And you remembered how you felt when he held your hand, the way his touch was so gentle, his fingers lacing with yours. Back then, his voice had been warm, his smile easy, his eyes bright with something that made your heart race.

Now, he sat across from you, silent and tense, his gaze fixed on the floor between your feet. The only sound was the creaking of the ship around you and the distant, muffled voices from above.

The silence between you stretched until it became unbearable. Your fingers dug into the thin mattress beneath you, knuckles turning white with the pressure.

"My family is dead because of you," you finally said, your voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through the heavy air. The words hung there, raw and unavoidable. "Every time I look at you, I see that day. The Armored Titan breaking through the gate. The boulder that crushed our home."

Reiner didn't flinch, didn't look away. He just nodded slowly, his eyes hollow. "I know."

"You know?" A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "That's all you have to say? You know?"

"What do you want me to say?" His voice was flat, resigned. The voice of a man who had already condemned himself a thousand times over.

"I want you to say something—anything—other than 'I know,'" you snapped, the anger you'd been holding back finally beginning to surface. "I want you to explain how you could sit with me that day by the training grounds, offering me bread while I cried about my family, knowing it was you who killed them."

Reiner's gaze dropped to the floor again. "I don't have an explanation that would make any sense to you."

"Try me," you challenged, leaning forward. "I've had four years to think about this, Reiner. Four years to try to understand."

He looked up then, and the defeated emptiness in his eyes almost made you recoil. This wasn't the Reiner you remembered—the strong, confident soldier who always seemed to know what to say, what to do. This was a shell of that man, worn down by guilt and grief.

"I compartmentalized," he said after a long moment. "The Warrior and the Soldier. Sometimes, I... I forgot which one was real."

"And which one was it?" you asked. "Which version of you was real, Reiner?"

He shook his head slowly. "I don't know anymore. Maybe neither."

You stood up abruptly, unable to sit still with the storm of emotions churning inside you. The cabin was too small to pace properly, but you moved to the porthole, looking out at the darkening sky without really seeing it.

"Do you have any idea what your betrayal did to me?" Your voice was quieter now, but no less intense. "It wasn't just that you were the Armored Titan. It was that you were you. Someone I..." You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "Someone I cared about. A lot."

You heard the bunk creak as Reiner shifted his weight but didn't turn to look at him.

"I nearly quit the Scouts after you left," you continued, watching your breath fog the glass of the porthole. "I couldn't understand how I could have been so wrong about someone. How I could have trusted you so completely."

Your fingertips pressed against the cool glass as memories flooded back—training together in the rain, his hands adjusting your grip on the ODM gear controls, his laughter at your terrible jokes, the way his eyes would find yours across the mess hall.

"And it wasn't just you," you said, your voice growing thick with unshed tears. "I haven't been able to truly trust anyone since. Not completely. There's always this voice in the back of my mind asking if they're hiding something too. If they'll betray me just like you did."

"I'm sorry," Reiner said, his voice barely audible.

You whirled around to face him, anger flaring hot and bright. "Sorry doesn't bring my family back! Sorry doesn't erase the fact that you lied to me for years! Sorry doesn't change the fact that every memory I have of us is tainted now because I don't even know if any of it was real!"

"It was real," Reiner said, standing up now, something finally sparking in his eyes. "That's what you don't understand. It was all real for me too."

"How could it be real when it was all built on a lie?" Your voice rose, echoing in the small space.

"Because I didn't know how to separate the lie from the truth anymore!" He took a step toward you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Do you think this has been easy for me? Do you think I just walked away and forgot about all of you—forgot about you?"

You stared at him, momentarily stunned by the sudden emotion in his voice.

"I've thought about you every single day since then," he continued, his voice breaking. "I see your face in my dreams. I hear your voice when it's quiet. You've been haunting me for four years, and I deserve it."

The raw pain in his voice knocked the breath from your lungs. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you stared at him, really seeing him for perhaps the first time since you'd learned the truth—not as the Armored Titan, not as the Warrior, not even as the Soldier, but as Reiner. Just Reiner, broken and haunted and so very human.

"I know you hate me," he said, quieter now, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. "You should hate me. If I could go back and change what I did..."

"But you can't," you whispered.

"No," he agreed. "I can't."

The admission hung between you, simple and devastating in its truth. You couldn't change the past. Your family was still gone. The walls were still broken. And Reiner—your Reiner—had still been the one to do it.

But the man standing before you now, shoulders slumped under the weight of his actions, eyes filled with a pain that mirrored your own—he wasn't the Armored Titan anymore. He was just as broken as you were.

Then suddenly you moved, your arms wrapping around his waist, your face pressed against his chest as sobs wracked your body. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady against your cheek, so at odds with the broken man it belonged to.

For a terrible second, he remained frozen, and you thought you'd made a mistake. Then his arms came around you, tight and desperate, one hand cradling the back of your head as he buried his face in your hair. His body trembled against yours, and you realized he was crying too—silent, shuddering sobs that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him.

The stubborn shame that had kept you both at arm's length dissolved in the salt of your mingled tears. There, in the dim light of the cabin, with the gentle rocking of the ship beneath you and the uncertain future ahead, you held each other like the last two survivors of a shipwreck—broken, exhausted, but somehow still alive.

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, holding each other in the dim light of the cabin, your tears gradually subsiding into uneven breaths. His arms around you felt both familiar and foreign—the shape of him changed, but the way he held you still the same.

When you finally pulled back, just enough to look up at him, your faces were inches apart. Your hands had somehow moved to his shoulders, feeling the unfamiliar angles where muscle had once been. His eyes, red-rimmed from crying, searched yours with a question he didn't dare voice.

"I still hate what you did," you whispered, your voice hoarse. "I don't know if I can ever forgive that."

Reiner nodded slightly, accepting your words without defense. One of his hands had found its way to your face, his thumb gently brushing away a tear from your cheek.

"But I don't know how to hate you," you admitted, the confession tearing itself from somewhere deep inside you. "I've tried for four years, and I just... can't."

Something flickered in his eyes—a spark of something you hadn't seen since before everything fell apart. Hope, maybe. Or longing.

You weren't sure who closed the distance. Maybe both of you, drawn together like the inevitable pull of gravity. His lips found yours in a kiss that was hesitant at first, as if he expected you to push him away. When you didn't—when instead you pressed closer, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt—the hesitation gave way to a desperate need that matched your own.

Reiner's arms tightened around you, backing you against the wall beside the porthole. The cool glass pressed against your shoulder, a stark contrast to the heat of his body against yours. His kiss deepened, years of unspoken feelings pouring into it as his tongue met yours.

You gasped against his mouth, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, longer now than you remembered. The scrape of his beard against your skin was new, and your heart skipped a beat at the way his breath hitched when you tugged gently at his hair.

When you pulled away again, breathless, his eyes were dark with a mixture of desire and pain. "I shouldn't be doing this," he whispered, even as his thumb traced circles on your hip. "After everything I've done..."

"Shut up," you murmured, pulling him back to you. "Just shut up, Reiner."

He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob against your lips. "Still stubborn," he breathed.

Your hands tangled in his hair, eyes squeezed shut as you took in the feel of him. You were desperate, you knew. You felt pathetic, but you wanted him. Needed to be close to him.

"It's embarrassing how long I've wanted to do this," you murmured against his lips, your voice barely audible over the sound of your racing hearts.

His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes closed as he took an unsteady breath. "When we were back in training, that day in Stohess..." His voice was rough, trailing off as your lips found the curve of his jaw.

"Why didn't you kiss me then?" you asked, the question muffled against his skin.

Reiner's laugh was soft and broken. "I wanted to. Every second we were together." His hands slid down to your waist, anchoring you against him as if afraid you might disappear. "I told myself it was because of the mission. That I couldn't get distracted."

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, your hand coming up to touch his face, feeling the unfamiliar texture of his beard beneath your fingertips. "And the real reason?"

He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. "I was afraid that if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. That I'd tell you everything." The admission seemed to cost him, his voice barely above a whisper. "And then you'd hate me."

"I did hate you," you said quietly. "When I found out."

His eyes clouded with pain, but he nodded. "I know."

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his again, more gently this time. "But I hated myself more for still wanting this. For still wanting you."

Reiner's response was to kiss you again, deeper this time, his body pressing yours more firmly against the wall. One hand tangled in your hair while the other gripped your hip, his touch both gentle and desperate. You could taste the salt of tears—whose, you weren't sure anymore—and something else, something uniquely him that you had tried so hard to forget.

The ship rocked with a stronger wave, causing you both to sway. Reiner's arm tightened around your waist, steadying you, and for a brief moment, you were back in the training grounds, his arms around you as he corrected your stance, his breath warm against your ear.

"I missed you," he breathed against your mouth, the words so quiet they might have been imagined. "Every day."

You didn't answer with words. You couldn't. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, alongside grief and betrayal and a hundred other emotions you couldn't name. But for now, in the dim light of the cabin with the sea stretching endlessly around you, you let yourself remember what it felt like to be in his arms.

Your lips found his again, harder this time, your teeth catching his lower lip in a way that made him groan. His hands tightened on you in response, lifting you slightly as he pressed you more firmly against the wall. The kiss deepened, grew more urgent, years of longing and hurt and need pouring into it.

The world outside—Eren, the Rumbling, the fate that awaited all of you—seemed distant and unreal compared to the solid warmth of Reiner against you, the familiar-yet-different taste of his mouth, the sound of his ragged breathing mingling with your own.

This wasn't forgiveness. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But as his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, tracing a path that made your breath catch, you realized it might be something like a beginning. A chance to finally confront all the things left unsaid between you, all the hurt and the betrayal, but also all the moments that had been real.

Reiner’s hands slid down your sides, fingers digging into your hips as he kissed you with a desperation that made your knees weak. The rough scrape of his beard against your skin sent shivers down your spine, and when his teeth grazed your bottom lip, you gasped—only for him to swallow the sound with another searing kiss.

This isn't at all how you expected your "talk" to go. Years of rehearsing different scripts in your head about how you'd tell him you hate him when you saw him, how you'd show him how it felt to feel betrayed and alone... All of those came crumbling down when he touched you like this, so gently but also so needy.

Not that the idea in general hadn't crossed your mind an embarrassing and pathetic amount of times. That, you couldn't deny. Since your cadet days you'd wondered what it would feel like with him, hoping he'd make a move. But he never did. Your heart skipped a beat when you felt the sadness well up inside you again, but that feeling quickly went away when he tilted his head to better kiss you.

His body pressed you harder against the wall, the heat of him searing through your clothes. You could feel the evidence of his arousal against your thigh, and the knowledge of how badly he wanted you—after all this time—sent a thrill through you.

Then, without warning, he broke the kiss, his breath ragged. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from yours.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, voice rough.

You didn’t.

A low sound escaped him, something between a groan and a growl, before his hands tightened on your waist—and then he was lifting you, turning, and depositing you onto the narrow bunk behind you in one swift motion. The thin mattress barely cushioned the impact, but you barely had time to register it before Reiner was on his knees between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs with a reverence that made your breath hitch.

His gaze flicked up to yours, searching, hesitant—like he still couldn’t believe you were letting him touch you.

"Please," he breathed, fingers curling into the fabric of your pants. "Let me taste you."

The raw need in his voice sent a jolt straight to your core. He was begging. Reiner—the man who had once been so confident, so sure of himself—was now on his knees for you, looking up at you like you were the only thing that could save him.

You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering in your throat. You also didn't expect it to go like this. The Reiner that you knew back then presented himself to be some kind of big leader, something you admired because of how he never seemed to let it go to his head. He was one of the strongest, but he was humble.

So seeing him like this, desperate between your legs, felt almost like culture shock.

But even so, being with him, feeling him, talking to him all felt so good. So good you could cry. "Okay," you breathed, nodding.

His fingers trembled slightly as he undid the fastenings of your pants, tugging them down your legs along with your underwear. Your cunt was already pathetically wet just from making out, and suddenly you just wanted to close your legs so he wouldn't see how much he affected you. Stubborn pride still warred inside you even now. The cool air of the cabin ghosted over your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Reiner’s breath as he leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, making your heart swell.

Reiner’s hands spread your thighs wider, his thumbs brushing over the damp curls between them. His breath stuttered when he saw how wet you were, his fingers tracing your folds with agonizing slowness.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice wrecked.

He kissed at your inner thighs some more, almost like he just couldn't get enough of the simple action. He'd lick at them, suck them, anything. Reiner was willing to drag this out, it seemed.

"Has anyone ever done this for you before?" Reiner asked, his tone carrying a mix of emotions, staring up at you with his pretty hazel eyes as he kissed at the soft skin of your thighs. Deep down, he selfishly hoped no one else had gotten to see you like this—feel you like this.

Your breath hitched at the sight, unable to pull your gaze away and similarly unable to stop your arousal and need as you felt yourself wet the sheets beneath you even further. "I don't see how that's any of your business," you replied stubbornly, wanting to keep the small amount of control you still held.

That gave Reiner all the answer he needed. "Hm," he responded, careful not to anger you, careful not to upset you. but also understanding and seeing just how much you wanted this—wanted him. And equally he was exceptionally aware of the way his cock twitched in his pants, desperate to make you feel good, desperate to feel your thighs around his head and your fingers against his scalp, desperate to hear you in these moments he's imagined you in so many times.

Reiner didn’t wait for another teasing remark from you—his mouth was on you in an instant, his tongue dragging a slow, filthy stripe up your soaked cunt, groaning against you like he’d been starving for this. The sound alone made your back arch off the bunk, a sharp gasp tearing from your lips as his hands clamped down on your thighs, holding you open for him.

He was messy—no finesse, no practiced rhythm, just pure, desperate hunger. His tongue lapped at you like he was trying to memorize your taste, his nose pressing against your clit as he buried his face between your legs. Every flick of his tongue was sloppy, wet, loud, the obscene sounds of his mouth working you filling the tiny cabin. You could feel his stubble scraping against your sensitive skin, the rough drag only making the pleasure sharper, more overwhelming.

“Fuck—Reiner—” Your fingers tangled in his blonde hair, gripping hard as his tongue circled your clit before sucking it between his lips. His groan vibrated through you, his hands sliding under your ass to tilt your hips up, giving him better access as he devoured you.

He was relentless, like he’d been waiting years for this—because he had. Every muffled sound he made against your cunt, every time his tongue plunged inside you only to drag back up, every time his lips sealed around your clit to suck—it was all too much, and yet you never wanted it to stop.

His enthusiasm was almost embarrassing, the way he moaned into you like he was the one being pleasured, his hips moving against his hand as he rubbed his cock through his pants. You could feel the wetness of your own arousal smeared across his chin, and the sight alone had your thighs trembling around his head.

Drool mixed with your arousal, dripping down his chin as he ate you out like a man possessed. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider, keeping you open for him as his tongue plunged inside you, fucking into you with rough, eager strokes before retreating to suck your clit again.

"Taste so good," he panted against you, his voice wrecked. "Fuck, fuck, I knew you would—"

His words cut off into a groan as he redoubled his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit before he sealed his lips around it again, sucking hard. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth on you filled the cabin, obscene and perfect, and you could feel the way his hips rocked slightly against the bunk, rutting into nothing as he got off on just tasting you.

"Been thinking about this—" he rasped, pulling back just enough to speak before diving back in, his tongue circling your clit in tight, relentless circles. "—every night—"

His fingers dug into your thighs, leaving marks as he held you down, refusing to let you squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure.

"Close," you choked out, your hips jerking against his mouth. "I’m so close—"

Reiner growled, the sound vibrating through you as he sucked your clit into his mouth one last time, his tongue flicking over it rapidly—

And then you were coming, your back bowing off the bunk as pleasure crashed through you in waves. He didn’t let up, licking you through it, swallowing every drop of you as you shuddered and gasped above him.

When you finally went limp, panting, he pulled back just enough to look up at you.

His chest heaved, his eyes dark with need. But above that, it was like he needed some confirmation he did good.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Are you okay?"

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him up your body until his weight settled over you, pressing you deeper into the thin mattress. His skin was fever-hot, his muscles taut with restraint, but his eyes—those damn hazel eyes—were soft, almost reverent, as he looked down at you.

You didn't answer, not verbally at least.

Your hand slid into his hair, gripping tight as you dragged his mouth to yours, kissing him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue. A rough groan tore from his throat, his hips jerking forward instinctively, the hard length of his cock grinding against your still-sensitive clit through his pants.

His groan was muffled against your mouth as you licked into him, your fingers tightening in his hair. You could feel the way his body shuddered when you nipped at his bottom lip, the way his hips jerked forward instinctively, grinding his cock—so fucking hard against your thigh.

“God, you’re—” His voice broke as you kissed him again, rougher this time, your teeth dragging over his lip. His hands gripped your waist, fingers digging in like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. “Fuck, I need—please—”

"Reiner," you breathed, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Please fuck me."

You could feel it—the way his entire body trembled with the effort of holding back, the way his breath came in ragged bursts against your mouth. His hands fumbled with his belt, his fingers shaking as he undid the buckle, his cock springing free, thick and flushed and aching for you.

Reiner didn’t waste another second.

He hooked his hands under your knees, spreading you wider, his gaze locked on where your slick glistened between your thighs. His breath hitched, his cock twitching against your stomach as he lined himself up, the blunt head pressing against your entrance.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice rough.

You did.

His eyes burned into yours as he pushed inside, slow, so agonizingly slow, his jaw clenched tight as he fought to keep control. The stretch was delicious, the way your walls fluttered around him making his hips stutter.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his fingers digging into your thighs. “You feel—Christ—you feel even better than I imagined.”

And then he was seated fully inside you, his hips flush against yours, his cock buried to the hilt. For a moment, neither of you moved—just breathed, just felt, the weight of years of longing crashing over you both.

Then—because he needed to see it, needed to know this was real—he leaned back on his heels, pulling out almost all the way just to watch the way your cunt clung to him, glistening and desperate, before slamming back in. His cock disappeared inside you, your wetness coating his dick as your body stretched to take him.

The sound you made was sinful.

Reiner’s hips snapped forward again, harder this time, his cock dragging against your walls in a way that made your toes curl. His grip shifted from your wrist to your hip, holding you in place as he fucked into you with slow, deep strokes—like he was savoring every second, like he wanted to memorize the way your body took him.

His dick glistened with your arousal, disappearing inside you with each thrust, your cunt gripping him like it was made for him. He couldn’t look away—couldn’t stop the way his breath hitched as he watched himself fuck into you, over and over, your body taking him so perfectly.

Reiner’s rhythm was relentless, each deep stroke dragging a gasp from your lips. His broad palm slid down your stomach, fingers gliding through your slick until his thumb found your clit, rubbing tight, rough circles that made your toes curl.

"There you go," he murmured, voice thick with praise as he watched your face twist in pleasure. "So fucking pretty when you take me like this. Can’t believe you’re real—can’t believe I get to have you."

You whimpered, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts, desperate for more, for everything. Reiner moaned at the way your body clenched around him, his thumb pressing harder against your clit.

"Love the way you take me," he panted, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "Like you were made for me, huh? Made to take my cock just like this—shit—"

Then, without warning, he leaned forward, his chest pressing flush against yours, his weight pinning you completely beneath him. The new angle made him sink deeper, his cock hitting a spot inside you that had your vision whiting out for a second.

"There," he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "That’s it, sweetheart. Let me have you just like this—fuck—"

His thrusts turned slower but impossibly harder, each one dragging a broken moan from your lips. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back so he could kiss you again, swallowing your gasps like he needed them to survive.

He braced himself above you, muscles taut, sweat glistening on his skin as he watched your face—every flutter of your lashes, every bitten-off moan—like he was memorizing you all over again.

His hips rolled into yours with a deep, almost reverent grind, pressing so deep you could feel him in your ribs. Your breath hitched as he lingered there, his tip nudging that perfect, aching spot inside you before pulling back with a slow, torturous drag that made your toes curl.

"Feel how deep I am?" he breathed, his fingers tightening on your hip as he rocked into you again, slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. "Fuck, you’re perfect."

His voice was wrecked, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. But he didn’t rush—just kept moving inside you with that same maddening pace, every thrust a sweet torment.

"Could stay like this forever," he admitted, his lips brushing your jaw. "Just like this—buried inside you, feeling you clench around me like you never wanna let me go."

"Reiner," you whined.

"I've got you," he responded, hips never stopping.

And when your back arched, your body tightening around him, he didn’t speed up—just kept fucking you through it, his lips pressed to your neck, whispering praise as pleasure washed over you in waves.

Reiner’s thrusts grew more erratic, his control slipping as your walls fluttered around him, pulling him deeper with each desperate clench. His breath came in ragged gasps, his forehead pressed against yours as he fought to hold on just a little longer.

“I—fuck—I’m close,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. His fingers dug into your hips, his rhythm faltering as pleasure coiled tight in his gut.

You arched beneath him, nails scraping down his back as you panted, “Inside… please, Reiner—I want you to cum inside me.”

His entire body tensed at your words, a shudder running through him. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark with lust and something dangerously close to worship.

“Are you—fuck—are you sure?” he rasped, hips stuttering as he struggled to keep his pace steady.

You nodded, biting your lip as you clenched around him deliberately, drawing a broken groan from his lips.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Want to feel you—all of you.”

That was all it took.

Reiner’s restraint shattered.

"Fuck—gonna fill you up so good," he panted, his forehead dropping against yours. "Gonna make sure you feel it—"

You clenched around him, your own climax building again, and he cursed, his rhythm faltering.

"Come with me," he demanded, his voice wrecked. "Wanna feel you cum on my cock while I’m deep inside you—fuck—please—"

His words tipped you over the edge. Pleasure crashed through you, your body tightening around him in waves, and Reiner lost it.

With a growl that was almost feral, he slammed into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulsed inside you, hot and thick. His body shuddered violently, his fingers gripping you like a lifeline as he spilled deep, his release filling you in waves.

You could feel him pulsing inside you, his cock twitching as he rode out his orgasm, his forehead pressed to yours. When he finally stilled, he didn’t pull away—just stayed there, his body heavy and warm against yours, his breath slowly steadying.

After a long moment, he lifted his head, his gaze soft as he brushed a sweaty strand of hair from your face.

"Okay?" he murmured, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.

You nodded, your fingers lazily tracing the muscles of his back.

Reiner exhaled, something like relief—or maybe wonder—flickering in his eyes before he leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

"Good," he murmured against your mouth.

You lay in comfortable silence for what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, Reiner's weight pressing you into the thin mattress, his breath warm against your neck. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, as though memorizing the feel of you. Neither of you wanted to break the spell, to acknowledge the world waiting outside this small cabin.

"I love you," you whispered finally, the words escaping before you could think better of them. They hung in the air between you, raw and honest.

Reiner stilled, his breath catching. Slowly, he raised himself up on his elbows to look at you, his hazel eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart skip. For a terrible moment, you thought you'd said too much, revealed too much of yourself to someone who had once betrayed you.

But then his expression softened, a genuine smile—one you hadn't seen in years—spreading across his face. "I love you too," he said, his voice steady and sure. "I always have."

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. "I know it doesn't change anything," he murmured. "I know it doesn't make up for what I did. But it's true."

His eyes grew serious again. "Whatever happens with Eren, with the Rumbling… I'm going to protect you. I promise."

Before you could respond, a sharp knock at the door made you both jump.

"Hey, you two done?" Connie's voice called through the thin wood. "There's food up on the deck if you're interested. Kinda limited, but better than nothing."

You and Reiner exchanged wide-eyed looks before scrambling to get dressed, movements frantic and clumsy in the small space. Your fingers fumbled with buttons and clasps as you tried to make yourselves presentable.

"Uh, yeah," Reiner called back, his voice remarkably steady considering his panicked expression. "We'll be right there."

You could hear the smirk in Connie's voice as he replied, "Take your time. Not like we can hear everything through these paper-thin walls or anything."

Your face burned as you hurriedly tucked in your shirt. Reiner looked equally mortified, though a small, almost boyish grin played at the corners of his mouth when your eyes met.

"Ready?" he asked softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before opening the door. Connie was waiting in the narrow corridor, a knowing grin splitting his face. Without a word, he turned and headed up the stairs, gesturing for you both to follow.

Reiner went first, and you couldn't help but notice the way Connie immediately engaged him in animated conversation as they climbed, acting as though nothing unusual had happened at all. Their voices faded slightly as they reached the deck above.

Jean appeared at your side as you finished climbing the stairs.

"So," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I take it the talk went well?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. "Yeah, really well," you replied, hoping that Connie was just teasing and no one else heard a thing.

"I just mean," he continued, a stupid and annoying grin on your face, "when I suggested you two clear the air, I didn't necessarily mean you should bring down the whole ship with your—"

Your face burned with embarrassment and fury. "I will literally throw you overboard, Jean," you hissed, shoving his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble back. "I swear to God—"

Jean laughed, ducking away from your next swing. "Hey, I'm happy for you guys! Honestly!" He held up his hands in surrender, still grinning as he backed up the stairs. "Just doing my part as your friend to give you shit about it."

[rafeslvbug]

introducing…. nfl!rafe

back to basics!! (physical)

height: 6”3/6”4, type of man to be considerably taller than you and use it to his advantage

build: 220lbs, biceps the size of your head, inverted triangle, lean yet muscular, elbows and knees always scarred despite wearing pads.

age: mid to late 20s, in the prime of his career (quarterback)

looks!! (specific)

tattoos/piercings: one ear pierced on a drunken night out after winning his first superbowl, tattoos scattered up his arms, important dates (your birthday, marriage, children, first and second superbowl)

signatures: always has his team’s cap, wearing it whichever way, it’s a must. doesn’t like jumpers, hates restriction on his arms, tanks and t-shirts are his go to - even in winter. might see him wearing a quarter zip, but the man’s a walking furnace. doesn’t wear his superbowl ring, has it on a chain around his neck instead.

personality

playful: very unserious with you, his son, his family - on the offseason only. the brief months of relaxation is the softest version of him. building forts. food fights. ball in the backyard.

strategic: does this for a living. how to visit each family member without them getting mad/jealous because he went to someone else first. how to get your son to be as good at football as him. how to get your daughter into sports. what order to do chores for the best outcomes - you don’t even understand half of it. watching tv? game of thrones? best believe he’s plotting how to get the iron throne.

protective: his life is in the spotlight, he’s faced stalkers, and paparazzi, hate crimes and people who would want to hurt his family. he’s always on high alert. he’s a designated full body shield when you guys go out, clutching his son’s hand and arm around you while you shield your daughter’s face from the flashes. even at home, away from anyone, he’s protective. no one says a bad word about you, no one hurts his kids at school, it’s the type of thing that makes his heart rate spike through the roof.

competitive: he won’t stand for sluggish behaviour from his teammates, he needs to win, needs to be the best. sports day hates to see him coming - his son does too. pressure on his son to be good at sports which you have to remind him isn’t everything so he eases back.

active: always training. always working. he can be jokey while on his offseason but that doesn’t mean his physique can lose itself. he’s in his prime, he’ll stay that way. if he’s done his exercise? he’ll fix stuff around the house, clean up, do basic chores and turn it into a sprint race, trying to tick them off the list as fast as he can (competitiveness) and then getting restless again. he’ll even make you go for a walk with him, or swing your daughter around in the backyard, maybe play ball with your son.

likes

energy drinks and protein bars. they’re his staple diet inbetween breaks and he can’t fault them, even if he crashes later on - at least it’ll be after the match.

when you cook for him. packed lunches with little sticky notes that he collects while he’s touring. hearty meals at home, daughter picking out all the carrots and giving it to him and son trying to match his eating pace.

reading bedtime stories to your daughter, and telling your son inspiring stories from his career. mundane stuff normal dads do. he likes feeling normal.

seeing you in the family box. respectful fans who love you as much as they love him. the way you run down to the pitch after a big match or even a loss, supporting him no matter what.

when you wear his jersey as pyjamas, lacy underwear underneath and hair all done like you’re going somewhere important. but you’re really only going into his arms.

dislikes

laziness. men on the pitch who give up because they think they’ve lost. they don’t lose until full time.

you receiving any ounce of disrespect from the media, family or kids. you’ve prioritised his career from the very start, supported him throughout, it’s his turn to prioritise you now.

players who cheat on their wives. it happens all the time, and it disgusts him. loyalty is everything.

family & people-specific hcs

you: met in high school, he didn’t go college to fulfil his dream and you went to uni, but graduated and didn’t work, starting a family with him.

– always tells you to work, encourages you to do what you want but you find it too difficult to do so with kids

– pet names for you: sweetheart/cheeks, gorgeous (flirty) baby, wifey & luck (when he’s got a big game)

– pet names for him: big guy (teasing manner), baby, handsome, ray

son: is a little tough on him, expectations to take care of his sister and respect his momma, but if his son knew how much rafe cried when he was first born.

– plays ball with him in the backyard, nurtured him into sports early on and is ever so proud of him.

– names: little man, son (instead of his name), football (because he carries him like one)

daughter: looks like you and he adores her. he might carry his son like a football and rough handle him, but he carries her like she’s gonna break. she’s three years younger than he brother, two years old.

– plays shop or dress up with her. will always attend her tea parties. takes photos of you and her while you’re baking or the first time she attends a match.

– names: little lady (matching her brother), sweet girl, sweetie

[littlelovelunette]

punkrock guitarist! Sevika x leadsinger! Reader

Maybe slow burn to smut or no smut and just cutesy fluffy stuff?

Finally In Sync

Mentions of homophobia, toxic parents, smut, fingering

You and your band has been practicing for so long, you needed to perform your best in the concert but somehow, everyone was out of sync due to nerves.

After two hours of nonstop training, it was only you and Sevika who couldn't sync up, but how could you perform then?

You were the lead singer, centre of attention. Sevika was the guitarist, it needed to be perfect. Or you wouldn't ever be able to show your face to school ever again.

"We should really put in more effort, the rest of the band can't fail this because of us," Sevika said, almost towering over you due to her tall height.

"What do you say, we go practice this at my home? I'm sure the other band members are exhausted," you looked up at her, putting your things away.

Sevika grumbled in affirmation.

"I'll text you the address," you got up, waving her goodbye for the time being.

Once you got in your apartment, you were instantly panicking. Your house was a complete mess. You had no idea why you just offered it up like that, but now you were stressing the fuck out.

You managed to tidy up most of the house in record time and just then you heard the doorbell ring. "That must be Sevika." You thought as you opened the door, smiling at the sight of the taller woman.

"Come in," you opened the door wide and stood back to let her enter your house, she did.

It soon got awkward, you both didn't really know each other too well, and like an idiot you invited her to your house.

"You live alone?" Sevika leaned against the wall, guitar case hanging from one shoulder as she crossed her arms.

"Yeah," you closed the door, locking it, "Parents and I had a falling out since they heard I like girls, so... here I am." You said with a small shrug.

"Sorry to hear that," Sevika mumbled, your words seemed to have put her in thought.

"Oh, don't be, it was for the best," you said waving a hand dismissively, "As if I wanted to live the rest of my life feeling controlled like a puppet. It's actually quite nice living here alone, y'know."

"So, you're gay?"

There was a long prolonged moment of silence.

"Y-Yeah," you stuttered before shaking your head, "That's not the point, um—"

"You're getting nervous," a slow smirk appeared on Sevika's lips, she seemed to be taking amusement in your nervousness.

"Well, we have to get to practice," you managed the words finally and you both settled to start practising for the performance.

"Ugh, why is this so hard!?" You plopped down on the couch, "We can never be in sync!"

"Maybe because we're strangers to each other," Sevika shrugged, putting the guitar down and sitting on the couch next to you.

"Pffft—" you scoffed and looked up at the ceiling and back at her, "You really think that's the case?"

"It could be," Sevika's legs were manspread causing you to blush slightly. Her thighs seemed thick, juicy and oh, those muscles.

"Oh, okay, then..." You finally said, "How, pray tell, will we get past that?"

Sevika leaned back against the couch, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips. "Well," she mused, tapping her fingers on her thigh, "We could try bonding exercises. You know, trust falls, staring contests... or something a little more hands-on.

"You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. "H-Hands-on?"

"Yeah," she said, stretching her arms over the back of the couch, her biceps flexing slightly. "You seem a little tense. Maybe a little... relaxation would help."

Your heart skipped a beat. Was she—?

"You offering me a massage now?" You tried to sound playful, but the nervous tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Sevika chuckled, her voice low and smooth. "I could. Or..." She reached over, her fingers just barely brushing against your knee, "We could find another way to loosen up."

Your breath hitched. The heat of her touch, even through the fabric of your pants, sent a shiver up your spine.

You glanced at her, and her dark eyes were watching you, waiting.

She leaned in slightly, close enough that you could catch the faint scent of leather and something undeniably her.

"What do you say, love?" Her voice dropped to a husky murmur, "Wanna get a little... in sync?"

And that is exactly how you found yourself, hands around Sevika's naked frame, "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" You asked timidly.

Your legs were spread and you were naked beneath her muscular frame which caged you down to the bed.

Your cunt was slick with arousal, Sevika's thick fingers were spreading them around and rubbing your pussy lips gently.

"You'd be surprised how much experience I have," Sevika whispered, fingers slowly parting your pussy lips and labia.

"Just... do it!" You hissed out, cheeks covered with embarrassment. Your face felt hot.

"Alright, doll," Sevika's fingers dipped inside making you gasp and scratch her back.

Even though they were only two fingers, they were thick and stretched your pussy out with a delicious pain.

"Want me to start moving?" Sevika asked, her other arm hoisting your frame up against her own protectively.

"Y-Yes," you whispered in her ear.

Sevika started rubbing the interior of your pussy making your hole clench around her digits needily.

"I-i... it feels so good," you moaned in her ear, fingers starting to entangle in her hair, "Sevika, please, more..."

Sevika smirked at the sight of you so needy, but she didn't hold back.

Her fingers dug deeper hitting that sweet spongy spot inside you.

"You're close, aren't you?" Sevika's voice rasped in your ear but you barely could register her words.

You were arching your back, crying out as loud as ever— silently wondering if the neighbours were hearing while you came undone on her fingers.

Atleast, now the both of you were in sync.

[chirpy-poppy]

How would the ghouls react to PC wearing their dorm uniform ? I've thought about this too much for my own good. No pressure

Thanks for the prompt! I'm guessing you mean the uniforms they get at the opening ceremony and not just the colored pin/tie (although that gave me an idea, stay tuned). Hope you like this!

Jin - How to make this man’s heart swell. Jin has a territorial personality. Seeing you in the blue that makes you look like one of his (subjects) people makes him feel secure in his relationship with you. He’d stand a little taller than usual and suddenly gets the need to take a walk with you for “exercise” and totally not to parade you around, flaunting that you’re his.

Tohma - “You look very nice.” He’d make it sound like a platitude, but he truly means it. He already considers you as one of the people in his circle, especially since the two of you spend hours in the vault taking care of Frostheim’s internal affairs together, but seeing you dress the part would truly seal the deal. He’s not one to help others if there’s nothing in it for him, but he’d feel inclined to take care of you when you’re dressed like that. 

Kaito - “Are you finally joining Frostheim? With me?” Tears stream and snot drips down his face. Even after you tell him it is just for a mission, he’d relish in the fact that you are matching. He’d try to sneak away with you during the mission to go on a “date” in your “couple’s outfit.” 

Lucas - “What is the occasion?” … “It suits you very well, PC. You should wear this more often.” Your fancy Frostheim skirt is more cumbersome than your uniform one, so he watches out for you even more. Think opening doors, getting utensils for you at the cafeteria, and carrying your bags. 

Alan - Would feel uncomfortable. “You don’t belong here. It’s dangerous.” He’d send you home to get changed. As he’s fixing up a car later that day though, he’d let his mind imagine how it’ll be like if he were a normal guy and you can sit together in class, side by side, and walk back to the dorms together. 

Leo - Starts streaming as soon as he catches sight of you. He’d come up to you talking like you did all this just for him. Showers you with sweet compliments for his viewers. When he’s done though, he’d mock you. “Why are you dressed like me? Are you in love with me or something? Ew, please don’t. I don’t want to be involved with an NPC.” As if he didn’t just force you to be involved with him for a 20 minute stream.

Sho - “Senpai? Is there a mission?”He wouldn’t compliment you outright, but he might compliment the clothes. Might hyper-fixate on one article so he’d have an excuse to keep looking at you. “That jacket looks really aerodynamic.” “It’d probably let Bonnie go even faster. Want to test it out?” If it is for a mission, he’d actually stand up to Leo if the vice-captain opposes him being partnered with you.

Haru - Might actually cry. He’s probably the one who got you the uniform, and he takes it as a green light to get you to help with some of the tasks around Jabberwock. Of course, he’d customize the uniform so it’ll accentuate your… features. Haru keeps his eyes narrow so you can’t tell which way his pupils are pointing.

Towa - Very pleased that you match. During the day, he’d drag you everywhere with him because you are twinning, and twins do everything together. He’d even drag you across the mud because Haru cannot complain about him getting your actual uniform dirty now. At night, he tells you how adorable you are. He’d note how the clothes don’t make the person since he’s very strong but you still look so weak in the jumpsuit.

Ren - Confusion. Why would you voluntarily wear something like that? He makes a disgusted face at you and yeets away as quickly as he can because this probably means you’re meeting up with Haru, and Ren is not about to entertain “that clown.” However, the next time he has to put on his own jumpsuit, he’d feel less bad about it and his own situation. But then he’d stand in front of the mirror in his green get-up and wonder why he doesn’t look nearly as cute as you in it.

Taiga - Might mistake you for a Sinostra student. He’d have an even harder time trying to remember who you are since he’s not used to you wearing those clothes. When he finally comes around his memories, he’d pull you into his lap to play poker as usual. He doesn’t have much of an eye for fashion anyway, so he wouldn’t act much differently than usual.

Romeo - “Huh. You finally don’t look like you walked out of the dumpster.” Takes you to his office to take a good look at your outfit. Will give a few critiques (obviously), but also will help you fix up your fit. By the end of the day, you are ready for the Met Gala. He might even pamper you a little bit, doing a face mask with you and dabbing some serum onto your face. You’d feel like a million dollar purse poodle, but you’re his million dollar purse poodle, and he’d personally make sure you look the part.

Ritsu - Boy’s elated. Takes it as a sign you are committing to Sinostra and bringing them the Laurel Crown as his business partner. The fact that you look stunning in it is but the fine print of this whole thing. However, if you’ve ever met Ritsu, you’d know he pays close attention to fine print.

Subaru - Tea party! He’d quickly put on his own robes if he isn’t in them already and bring you to Hotarubi’s terrace with some fancy daifuku and tea. “You look very nice, PC.” He finds eye contact a little easier that day. In fact, he keeps his eyes on you the whole time. Despite his social awkwardness, the beauty and grace you extruded while in those robes spoke to his kabuki culture and had him enraptured.

Haku - He was probably the one who tricked you into putting on the garment with the Fox Robe. “Now we look like a couple,” he’d say with a wink. He’d do this around the time of the spring festival so now you ‘have’ to go visit it together otherwise it’ll be such a waste of a good opportunity. Walks under cherry blossom trees so he can pick petals out of your hair for you. Oh no! There’s too many people here. Better hold hands so you don’t get lost!

Zenji - “You look like an absolute doll, my dear!” Walks/floats in circles around you like a satellite, taking in your new look from all angles. “You look like the first flower that blooms after a harsh winter! You breathe life and hope into the hopeless!” Non-stop poetic(?) compliments accompanied by a biwa. Expect to have your ears burning by the end of the day.

Ed - “This reminds me of the gothic era. I must say though, you manage to pull it off better than most of the children I saw back in the days.” There’s a video playing on his tablet, but he’s watching you instead as you go about cleaning his room. Might actually remember to warn you about mysterious liquids in his room so you don’t soil your clothes. 

Rui - You were supposed to look ghoulish and scary in your Obscuary get up, but Rui still finds you super cute. Then again, he finds you cute even when you’re just breathing. Takes a million pictures together. “PC, this just calls for a romantic walk through a graveyard. They say fear makes the heart grow closer!” He’d insist you stay over for the full Obscuary experience. You’d wake up to a full spread of breakfast and another Obscuary outfit hand tailored by yours truly.

Lyca - “You’re wearing more fur than usual. And more purple. Hey! Are you joining our house?” Lil pup would be so excited but try to hide it beneath his scowl. Since he didn’t get placed into the same house as Subaru, he really wants a friend as a dorm mate. Since you are human, he’d also be happy that Obscuary seems less like a place for creatures.

Yuri - “Don’t think you can become the assistant of the great Yuri Isami just because you are dressed like that.” Despite what he says, Yuri would take you around Mortkranken, showing you all the specimens and teaching you how to use the machines. “You better come back here tomorrow immediately after class so you can put some of what you learned to good use. You’d better not waste my efforts!” Oh, and you better wear that outfit again too. You’re supposed to wear lab attire in the lab, after all.

Jiro - “Take it off.” What he meant is for you to put on the patient gown so he can conduct his examination. The patient gown is basically your Mortkranken uniform any other day since that’s all you’re in whenever you go there.

[occamstfs]

In The Rink: Woodie

Travelling up North to visit his friend at the behest of his new hockey captain, Remy's in for quite a surprise when his friend has become quite the brute. More surprises await as it seems some intimate time together may just help him become part of the team himself.

Part two of my story for HairyJockTf! Dunks' domination streak seems to affect him off the court as well, not that Remy minds! The story continues off from In The Rink: Dunks! Hope you enjoy! -Occam

Remy really didn’t understand why Duncan was being so cagey? They used to be so close before he moved up here for work and now it’s been months since they texted. Thank God his teammate finally reached out and invited him up to visit! He even paid for a plane ticket which Remy thought was insane, but he’s not about to turn down the offer. He can’t wait to see the look on Duncan’s face when he surprises him haha! 

Shivering in the cold streets, Remy smiles as he sees his breath in the air. He can’t believe it’s already so cold up here, back home it won’t get this chilly for a couple more months! His mind keeps returning to Duncan and his excitement at their impending reunion. Remy wonders what Duncan told Matt about him to get him to reach out, though presumably in their correspondence he realized that their relationship is a little more complicated than just ‘friends’.

Finding Duncan’s apartment unlocked, just like Matt said he would, Remy enters and lays his stuff down on the coffee table. Immediately he struggles to not be too intrusive. It has been a while after all, he’d hate to learn something that Duncan wouldn’t want him to know. He pauses for a moment, like if he had a boyfriend. Remy chews on his lip as he realizes how stupid he was to come up at the insistence of some man he doesn’t know. Totally overstepping an unspoken boundary with Duncan. Matt must have told him. Duncan must know he’s here, right?

Overcoming his druthers, Remy sets about snooping through Duncan’s apartment. Promptly he’s floored at what a pigsty it is. Nothing like the prim and proper man he knew when they went to university together. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, pizza boxes and other to-go containers scattered around the kitchen, loads of unwashed clothes spilling out of a hamper. He was shocked when he heard his friend had gotten into hockey, but he never expected that he’d be so obsessed as to start living in filth? 

His phone goes off and he checks it to find an alarm he set as a five minute warning prior to when Matt said Duncan should be making it back to the apartment. Initially he set it so he’d have time to get in the mindset to see his ex, not ex, friend. But at the present moment nerves seem insurmountable so instead he decides to instead skip straight to preparing a gag that would diffuse tension. Eying a uniform laid out on the couch Remy smirks as he imagines how funny it would be if Duncan got home to see his oh so mousy friend ready to hit the rink himself!

This turned out to be foolhardy for a number of reasons. The first being that Remy was absolutely drowning in this jersey. He knew they were massive, what with the pads and all, but he can’t imagine Duncan would ever fit in this? It’s gotta be for a man at least a foot taller than he knows Duncan to be. Beyond that he isn’t sure if the coming in from the cold dulled his sense of smell or what, but as soon as he throws on that jersey he is bathed in the scent of a jersey that hasn’t been washed after months of heavy exercise.

Remy could barely stand as he’s overwhelmed by the scent of the uniform that now rests on his shoulders. His eyes water as a stink greater than that of every locker room he’s had the misfortune of spending time in combined blasts his sinuses. He races to plug his nose but the movement only wafts more of the musk baked into the crusty jersey towards his nose. Gagging similarly only increases his intake and in little time at all the musk of his friend has totally displaced air in his lungs. 

Growing shockingly lightheaded, the young man falls back onto the couch. While his mind is awash with Duncan’s b.o., the part of him that has long been the most preoccupied with his friend begins to stir. In no time at all his most precious cargo overrides rationality and cleanliness and asserts the upside to wearing Duncan’s sweat-stained uniform. After struggling to produce a hand from the oversized sleeves he promptly begins working his package through the thick material. Before he has nearly enough time to get off, but well enough for him to forget his friend is almost home. The door to the apartment cracks open and he jumps with a start and falls flat on his face, uncomfortably landing on the boner hidden beneath the jersey.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house.” Hesitating as he lies face down on the floor Remy is filled with fear as he realizes he does not recognize that voice. Far deeper than Duncan could muster with a head cold, duller than his sharp friend would ever care to present, and with an irritation so harsh it borders on rage. Remy slowly turns to look up at the man entering the space with a shy grin that immediately dissolves. Were he not already on the floor he would have doubled over from the shock.

That cannot be Duncan Worthy. Stumbling over words as his clumsy tongue tries to buy time to take in the behemoth standing over him, Remy squints his eyes and finds the faintest glimmer of familiarity in the brutish man, “D-Duncan?” His scowl harshens further as he closes the door and crosses arms that could knock Remy out with a flick, “Name’s Dunks, kid.” Squinting in return, he looks down as if they were having a competition; he moves to pick the mousy Remy up by the jersey. “‘N why are you wearing my shit punk?” 

Remy again stumbles over his words before trying to get a grip on the hem of the jersey almost hanging past his knees. Rolling his eyes and grimacing at the pathetic grunts of his home invader apparent as the small man is unable to get the jersey off over his head, Dunks steps in and wrenches it off, briefly holding Remy in the air as he slides out of the stained fabric. Looking at the blushing man, the few gears in Dunks’ struggling mind click into overdrive, “You a horny fan or what?” Remy balks, “What!? Duncan it’s me!”

Hearing himself referred to with his proper name once more brings a darkness into the athlete’s eyes, “Told you to call me Dunks. If you were a real fan you’d know that.” Remy pouts and stamps his foot, “I- Do you not recognize me Dunca- Dunks? It’s me, uhm, Remy? Remy Woods?” The brute scratches his beard and disrobes from the sweaty clothes he wore to the team’s practice. “Oh yeah uhhh, Kinger mentioned somethin’ about you bein’ in town.” Suddenly the look in his eyes grows even more clouded as he strides closer to Remy. 

Despite alarm bells going off at the sudden movement of this man that he can read about as well as a wild animal. Despite adrenaline suddenly coursing through him as he feels genuine fear. Despite the brusque man’s arms reaching to grab him, he is unable to act. Conflict between his mind’s knowing that he should retreat and his more primal, hornier id demanding he stay rooted to the spot. When his nose is hit with a fresh wave of Dunks’ musk his rational mind loses whatever thin grasp it held on the reins and Remy becomes putty in the beast’s hands

“Been a while Woods. Seems like you're still obsessed with me eh?” Remy grumbles something unintelligible in protest but he lacks the coherence or care to even dispute the assertion. Dunks’ smirk grows wide and wicked as he continues, “And now you’ve followed me all this way to join the team huh? Hope you’re ready for a first taste.” Awareness returns to Remy’s mind at this bizarre statement, join the team? What on Earth did King tell him? “Uhm I’m not so sUR-” Unfortunately for his barely reemergent reason, he is interrupted as Dunks forces his head into his pits. “Yeah get a nice good breath.”

Remy struggles in the clutches of his once-friend, unable to make any headway against biceps the size of his thighs. He pushes with all his meager might but with each struggled breath he loses the willpower to do anything but delight in the odor. His mouth was open when he was shoved in shouting in protest, but now his tongue lances out to join in the rapture of Dunks’ post-practice pits. 

“Yeah I bet you like that fucker, that’ll put some hair on your fuckin’ twink chest huh.” With that he removes Remy from his pit and tosses him back onto the couch. Mind foggy from being anesthetized by Dunks’ musk, Remy has little recourse than to grovel on the couch and await whatever else the man standing over him sees fit, the bulge struggling against his already strained underwear makes it more than clear what he desires.

Dunks falls on top of him, taking care not to truly crush the smaller man as he lies beneath, moaning mindlessly. For his part the athlete’s eyes are shut as he imagines the prone man hes grinding against to be wearing a uniform, “Bet you can’t even fuckin’ carry your pads huh bitch.” Remy’s arms grope at the massive man’s hairy back as he thrusts against his own still clothed chest, barely able to move at all he struggles to remove his top now stained in Dunks’ sweat.

Doing so he finds something impossible, Dunk’s words have struck true, as the man’s meaty chest pushes into his own he feels a smattering of thick curls begin to meet them, causing friction and unfamiliar scratching. Through bleary eyes he sees Dunks’ smile grow wider. The athlete’s own mouth suddenly desiring a taste of the man he’s grinding against, Dunks leans down and begins aggressively discovering what his prey tastes like. Dragging his tongue across Remy’s hitherto hairless jaw he laughs as he feels it scratch against the first sign of stubble as it begins to break ground that shall never be clean shaven again. 

Imagining the playoff beard his bro, his teammate, will grow sends a stabbing, hungered pain into Dunks’ chest. Gritting his teeth his head trails down to Remy’s neck as he tries to inhale the first heady breath of musk that his new goalie’s body will begin to produce any second now. Impatient as he smells nothing besides himself, he almost growls as his head remains tucked behind the smaller man’s neck. His teeth move across it as his mouth opens, canines grazing Remy’s neck as he struggles not to give the moaning man a hickey powerful enough to strike him unconscious.

Beard scratching against new stubble, Jungle of chest hair tangling itself with the new forest growing on Remy’s chest, his massive cock frotting against his new goalie’s burgeoning bulge, Dunks grunts and takes a quivering breath as he is on the precipice of release he has not been allowed since he first stepped onto the rink. Pausing his momentum to ensure he enjoys the moment he has so awaited, the goliath leans in close to whisper into the ear of Remy. “Welcome to the team Woodie.”  

At that both men lose control. Cum streaks across Woodie’s awaiting stomach and pollinates a new oasis of hair that is to flourish on his torso for the rest of his life. Thick curls spread to capture the width of his stomach as it bulges outward with strength enough to hastily throw himself to stop any rushing puck. His own cock still imprisoned in the pants he traveled in prevents his load from escaping, allowing it to soak into his own blooming garden of pubes as they grow thicker than the hair of head on either man.

His mind rearranges itself to lose the dead weight of a life he will never return to as it fills with new instinct and abilities to dominate on the ice rink. Countless pucks blocked, myriad hours standing overwatch at the net, working out with his Captain Kinger and his other half Dunks. The couch underneath the two men creaks as Woodie bloats larger, gut filling out as it is quickly patterned with dark hair, shoulders widening to support weighter arms that are to evermore hide an expansive patch of pit hair, and the gem of it all an explosive hockey player’s ass.

Both men laugh as the seams blast off Woodie’s underwear and this thick cock is finally exposed. His cock bursts larger, escaping from his dense pubes and standing high above hairy balls that make one wonder if he’ll be able to fit in normal pants. On the other side the sheer size of his ass and thighs that are destined to rub together spell an end to any jeans that are not custom made, sculpted to fit around his dedicated physique. 

Seeing his quarry become the perfect teammate, Dunks feels his eternal need to dominate begin to rise. His calloused hands claw into the meaty hocks that compromise Woodie’s lats and with a smirk the newest member of the team does likewise before pitching to toss both men off the couch. Still groaning and convulsing with a body continuing to stain hairier and surge larger, the men begin to wrestle.

Their cocks remain out in the fray, twitching with anticipation as the two men frot in between holds and grunting thrusts. Woodie’s new expanding thicket of  body hair is stuck to his body with sweat as the two men rapidly wrestle for supremacy. Dunks’ brute strength makes it clear that the newbie doesn’t stand a chance. Twitching in his other half’s grasp a headache sears his mind as memories of watching Dunks absolutely demolish people on the rink. 

But it’s not over yet, the goalie’s got more of a head on his thick shoulders. Tactfully exposing his pit to get the oaf’s attention, which instantly works as the oaf hungrily stares mouth agape. Remy stretches his foot towards the enforcer’s bulging equipment bag. Shaggy leg stretching longer, he hooks his foot on the bag and yanks it, causing Dunks’ equipment to spill everywhere.

Only, that looks an awful lot like his own stuff doesn’t it? Gasping as he sees goalie pads, lustful fog abates from Dunks eyes as he sucks up some drool and follows Woodie’s eyeline, “Oh yeah huhuh, Kinger wanted me to bring you your stuff since you skipped out on practice ya-” Woodie promptly pushes to escape from the burly defenders clutches and after a grumble at his not playing fair, he assuages.

Possessed with a desire to try on his new stuff, Woodie races to the bag. Throwing on pieces as soon as he drags them out he’s made giddy feeling a compression shirt hug his powerful new curves and constrict his dynamo biceps. Woodie feels almost as overwhelmed with delight as when he and Dunks get the chance to fuck. It just feels right. Rubbing his tight, compressed torso and feeling the thick jungle of hair pressing through it, his mind restructures itself to hold hockey above anything else, everything else. Plays replace birthdays, techniques eviscerate his schooling, honed skill ousts neat handwriting, cleanliness, and any other marks of Remy Woods’ once-prim self.

Scratching at his stubble as it begins to thicken into a playoff beard to be proud of he starts digging through the equipment bag as if it were Christmas day. Dunks sidles alongside and pouts with some jealousy, whether it's for Woodie getting treats or for his teammate paying more attention to goodies than himself is unclear. Though seeing his bro light up as he yanks out a helmet any ill will vacates as he too is filled with joy at the grin on Woodie’s face. His hands shake as he goes to put on the helmet, eyes almost crossed with the irrational need to wear his uniform. 

Hair shoots up his neck as soon as the helmet graces his head. Thick itchy strands paint the entirety of his nape as his uniform sends tendrils of growth through him that are to evermore leave him as hairy as wildman. The fur on his arms and legs may be hidden with pads but beneath his faceguard and inching up from his pelted back is hair thick enough to instantly clog a drain or render a razor unusable, not that he would know that. Why would he want to shave? 

Hunger returns to the eyes of Dunks as he struggles to control his breathing and hold back from pouncing as Woodie finally finishes his emergence as the perfect goalie, the perfect partner for himself. Mouth shut to prevent from gnashing his teeth in wanton abandon, he yanks Woodie close and rubs his face against Woodie’s permanently scratchy neck, causing him more pleasure than is reasonable. Taking deep panting breaths and smelling musk enough to rival his own emanating from Woodie, drool drips and his eyes fog up as he almost feels ferality rising within him. 

Hearing the shift into some primal consciousness within Dunks, and feeling his hands tighten their grasp on his jersey, Woodie struggles to imagine a better way to break in his uniform. His mind flickers with the countless hours spent in the locker room after practice doing just that, shouts of ‘get a room’ from Kinger and their other teammates and raised middle fingers in response as they continue to make out. Blush burns bright enough to be seen through his dense beard as he feels Dunks’ tongue against his neck as it begins to trail its way up to his mouth. Woodie discards his helmet and turns to join in the fun.

The only thing that matters more to either man than time on the rink is enjoying the presence of each other. Present, in reality, for the first time in their true powerful furry forms, the hockey players find their schedules unsurprisingly open. With just under a day until they need to return to the arena the two men intend to spend every second they can in each other arms, wrestling and fucking in equal measure. Strengthening their bond like soldiers, the two athletes become more than the sum of their parts and find as much sexual gratification in their other half as they will find success on the rink. 

Kinger couldn’t wish for more skillful, or masculine teammates. With a pair of teammates as dedicated as himself on the field it's only a matter of time before they win at all. They are sure to begin a new dynasty in the sport. If not, hey, Kinger could find as many all-star players as they need. The next teammate is just a uniform away.

[mr2swap]

The great shift: a stinking symbiotic relationship

I came home empty-handed, I hadn't even been able to get a job as a cashier at McDonald's, but I can't blame them who would hire an overweight middle-aged man like me... A lot of things are different since the Great Shift, but I guess that some things remain the same, I opened the door to my apartment and the first thing I looked at was my old body sitting on the couch with an annoyed look.

-Dude, What the fuck? You were supposed to be here 35 minutes ago, my phone is blowing up with messages on our subscribers! You know them, they can't wait a minute for any of this! -

Gary Muller, my roommate and my “business partner,” flexed one of his enormous biceps until the shirt that covered the muscular and perfect body that used to belong to me almost burst, then with one of his long fingers he pointed to one of his armpits that for a moment They were dry.

Gary took off his shirt, revealing the body he used to look at every day in the mirror, grabbed a pair of dumbbells that were on the floor and started working out for our afternoon show.

-Yeah... I'm sorry, I went to a couple of job interviews, and they went a little longer than I thought, just... let me change while you train a little-

He just ignored me and went about his business while I walked into our apartment. I had heard that many people ended up in bodies thousands of miles away because of the Great Shift, but me and Gary living next to each other was a strange coincidence.

I didn't know anything about Gary before all this. Furthermore, I only considered him as the old man who lived next to me, sometimes in the mornings while my uncle went to the gym I could see him leaving the building, dressed in a cheap suit and heading to his office job. It was a surprise for me, One day I woke up in his apartment with his old body.

 The Real Gary was as surprised as I was, the first time I saw my old body from Gary's perspective I was speechless, there was an expression of confusion on that beautiful, symmetrically perfect face, the long, muscular arms of which I used to be so proud now they were in someone else's possession, but the worst of all was how short I was now. The height difference between us was enormous, while I was almost two meters tall Gary was 1.50 CM Even some children They are taller than me now.

But over time I got used to Gary's horrible old body... every day I prayed to get my old life back, but every day I woke up with horrible back pain and with a face older than my father's, perhaps the most strange now is the hair, Gary started going bald since high school and when he turned 30 he decided to shave all his hair, Gary's bathroom was full of hair growth products that hadn't worked for years.

And while I was suffering from trying not to adapt to the life of a 48-year-old, the real Gary was enjoying his new youth and his new muscular body. I learned that people treat you very differently when you look like a damn stud instead of a wrinkled Troll.

He could hear through the walls like the real home, and he had fun with my body and with all the boys I brought to my old apartment every night, I had never realized how thin the walls were in this building Until for the first time I heard the powerful moans of my old voice at the same time that Gary used my cock to fornicate another man.

Time passed and society continued on its path, for me, it was surprisingly fast how the government recovered from all this. But there was only one problem, there were a lot of unemployed people everywhere, and among all of them was me.

I used to work at the local gym as a trainer, but with this body that had never been in a gym in its entire life, I was quickly fired. On the other hand, Gary's company went bankrupt when most of the investors ended up in young bodies And they decided to sell the company.

As the days went by, Gary and I became somewhat of friends, I helped him with exercise routines and taught him about the nutrition My body needed, We decided that it would be much cheaper for both of us to live together while all this was resolved, And I returned to my old apartment, but I felt like a stranger among my own things. I settled in the smallest room surrounded by my training equipment that was totally useless to me now, everything was too heavy.

Living with Gary was certainly better than living on the street, But every day it made me reconsider if that was true, Unsuccessfully I tried to get a damn job, so I could get out of that apartment and start my life over in Gary's weak old body. I felt like a parasite even with Gary, he paid the rent and all the house services.

On top of that, he used to party every night and hang out with his new gym friends during the day, it was a total mystery to me how he made so much money... until I started receiving some strange messages on my old Instagram account. .

“Hey buddy, was this your body?”

“Dude, are you DaddyGary?”

“Damn, you had such a hot body… I always knew what was under those shorts, you didn't disappoint me.”

It wasn't hard to realize that Gary had been making his filthy armpit fetish porn for those desperate gays. I felt so dirty watching the videos of my old body worshiping his sweaty armpits after the gym.

I immediately confronted Gary about it, and surprisingly he admitted it very quickly. He didn't seem embarrassed, or sorry for doing it, I could even notice a slight mocking smile on his face as I told him how humiliated I felt while a bunch of perverted men masturbated with my stinky armpits.

It was at that moment when those words from Gary sealed the destiny I am living in now.

-Those “disgusting” things like you call them are what pay the rent for this place and keep your old ass from sleeping in some dumpster. And if you want to continue sleeping in your comfortable bed, it's time for you to start contributing a little money, and I know how you can do it... Come here -

He flexed both arms showing his armpits, I was surprised to see that he had recently shaved his armpits, eliminating all the wild hair that I previously kept in my sweaty pits, I... I couldn't control myself, I don't think he's homosexual, but the powerful musk of my old armpits made me react like a bee to honey.

Gary took his phone and started recording me while he worshiped his wet armpits with my tongue.

-You like it, right?… “Gary” Do you like the taste of your old body? Can you believe this used to be me? Damn, You really are pathetic, “Gary” -

It had been several days since I had ejaculated, I had thought Gary's body had erectile dysfunction or something, but at that moment my little cock was hard as a rock and hot as hell. I had never felt this way, my head was completely clouded by the addictive testosterone filled aroma of my old armpits.

-Look friends, “Gary” is jerking off, it seems like he still misses his old body... Maybe we should let him play with him another time...-

Hello, if you liked this story and you want more, you can take a look at my Ko-Fi page to see my most recent stories, see my new stories and support me to continue creating this hot content.

[gold-onthe-inside]

blind date

who? spencer reid (s8) x blake!reader summary: you finally give into your godmother's insistence on going on a date with her colleague, if only to get her off your back, and find yourself having to break the heart of someone who could have been the love of your life. content warnings: not a happy ending (i warned you, you don't get to yell at me), reader is blake's goddaughter and a therapist. word count: 2.1k

You let out a slow breath before entering the restaurant, smoothing down your dress, still second-guessing your outfit - a purple dress matched with a dark velvet jacket and a black purse with a gold chain belt - as if you hadn’t spent your day looking up what women in their 30s wore on first dates. Not like it matters, you told yourself. You’d get through the date, politely tell the guy that he was great but you weren’t interested, and hopefully be home by 10pm. You turn your gaze to the maitre’d, telling him the table was under Reid’s name.

You had told yourself on the way that you couldn’t hold it against him if he was late — you still remember the coffee meetings your own godmother never turned up to — but it turned out he was earlier than you. Where you showed up to everything ten minutes in advance, he showed up twenty-five minutes.

You saw him first, looking into the silver ware and flattening down his hair and adjusting his tie, clearly nervous, looking up when he heard you thank the maitre’d. Spencer almost stumbled over himself as he stood up to pull your chair out for you and you feel an overwhelming urge to reassure him. “H-Hi,” he said, matching your awkward smile. “You look really nice.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, taking the seat and watching him take his, his hand splayed against his chest to keep his tie back. “You’re taller than I thought you’d be.”

His laugh is nervous, God help him, and he corrects the displaced silverware so they align perfectly before he looked at you again. “I, uh, I get that a lot.”

“Go on a lot of blind dates then?” you asked, sipping the water within reach, and you can see panic flash across his face.

“No! I mean, I’ve-I’ve been on dates before. Just um—” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I meant I get the-the height thing, quite a bit. Not that there’s been a lot—”

“Breathe, Spencer,” you feel compelled to say as his face flushes. You’d meant to tease, not give the man a heart attack.

“Sorry,” he murmured, trying to get a grip on himself. God, how did Derek do this? “Um… Blake, sorry, Alex, told me that you’re a therapist,” he said, focusing on something concrete.

“Uh, yeah,” you answered, not sure how much information you wanted to tell him. Though, to be fair, he was a federal agent. He could have it found out anyway. “I work at a clinic in Georgetown,” you said, folding your hands in front of you and overthinking whether you should be crossing your legs or not. This was usually the point where the guy would ask if you could read his mind, or attempt to educate you on how mental health was a sham and everyone just needs to get some exercise, and that would be your cue to fake an emergency exit. Maybe you’d get home in time to watch some decent TV.

“Is it hard?” he asked, taking a sip of water before he leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with genuine interest. It was endearing, and surprising.

“It can be,” you answered, leaning in slightly. “Some days you get really, really good sessions, you know? And other days it’s…”

“Hell?” he offered and you let out a small huff.

“Try having a seven year old drawing on furniture with chalk,” you told him, watching him wince.

“I, uh… have a confession,” he said, leaning even closer, his voice a dramatic whisper. “I did that as a kid.”

"Understimulated in class, huh?" you asked, smiling at him a little more.

“A lot,” he admitted. “I learned to read very young, and… well, then everyone wanted me to read, and it wasn’t as fun anymore, you know?”

“Mm,” you say in agreement, but before you continue, the waiter comes, and you both order a glass of wine, and appetizers to split. “So, you must be dealing with a lot worse than pre-pubescent vandalism, right?” you asked, pulling apart the fried mozzarella balls with delicate precision, and you watch him think for a moment.

“I’m just trying to decide if the last case we worked would be preferable to handling a toddler, and I honestly think I’d prefer the serial killer,” he said thoughtfully and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you.

"Yeah, no, I don't blame you," you replied, sipping your wine.

“What about you?” he asked between bites. “Did you know you wanted to be a psychologist from day one?”

"Uh... No, I actually thought I would go into linguistics, like Alex, but somewhere around my first year into undergrad, I realised that psychology was my calling," you said.

“What changed your mind?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and leaning his elbow on the table. You liked the way he gave you his full attention; his eyes hadn’t strayed from you since you’d gotten there.

“Uh, we used to have to do these case studies and we’d do these role plays where everyone had a presenting concern to work with, and I used to get this… high whenever I’d figured the client out. Like that moment where everything just… clicks into place. And I got addicted to it,” you said, your words and love for your job captivating.

“I know exactly what you mean,” he said, his smile widening. “I’m sure Alex’s told you that I have an… impressive memory. The cases we work on-the ones they don’t put in our files on purpose-I remember every single piece of information. It’s like the details don’t leave me. So when we finally catch the unsubs, the-the serial killers…” His voice lowers, leaning further over the table to you and he’s so close, you can almost smell his cologne. “That’s when it clicks.”

You stared at him for a beat, like everything else in the world had gone still, his soft hazel eyes looking affectionately into yours, and then the waiter comes over and the bubble between you two pops, springing apart like two teenagers being walked in on. You can see the flush come over his skin, just as the waiter places his plates in front of him, and focus on ordering your dinner, Spencer agreeing to whatever you ordered.

“So,” you started as the waiter left, and you could see the hint of a smile cross his lips. “Spencer, what do you do for fun?”

He hums a little, thinking. “I read, obviously, and I play poker, although I think half the team suspects I’m counting cards.” He leans forward. “Don't tell them, but I am.”

“You can count cards?” you asked, looking at him in disbelief.

He tilts his head to the side, and he looks like some kind of adorable dog, and your cheeks flush a little darker. “Is it that surprising?” Spencer asks. “I mean, if you know the math, it’s-“ He seems to stumble a little, like he’s worried he’ll bore you with the explanation.

“Keep going,” you prompt him, interested.

“I mean, it’s not foolproof,” he starts, the words flowing quickly from him. “You can’t really predict probability with any certainty. It’s just… really good guessing.” He smiles proudly. “I’m actually banned from a few casinos in Vegas.”

You sipped your wine, shaking your head. "You've gotta teach me how, cause I swear, Alex beats me every time."

“You play poker?” Spencer asked, and you nodded, taking another sip of wine. “Of course, you do,” he added, smiling. “You’re perfect,” he blurted, then started, his face flushing a deep colour.

You could fall in love with this man if you let yourself, and it’s a scary thought. Alex hadn’t been kidding when she said that Spencer was perfect for you. Then why was there this horrible pit in your stomach, like an anvil hovering over you?

The rest of the dinner went perfectly, Spencer pulling out your chair for you as you both prepared to leave. The air was crisp, just a little chilly — spring wasn’t quite ready to fully come out of hiding yet. There was a certain energy between you both; a sense of hope you had long forgotten, and as he walked you to your car, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking up and meeting his eyes.

You'd felt this way before... four years ago when you met the man you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with, and suddenly, the idea of going through that again... It scared the living daylights out of you. "This was really nice," you managed, looking at him.

“It was,” he agreed, his hands shoving into his pockets. “I’d like to see you again.” He said it casually, but his eyes betrayed him, like he was afraid you were going to refuse.

You swallowed, reminding yourself to take a breath. "Spencer, you're... really great. I mean, seriously, any girl would be lucky to go out with you," you said slowly. "But if I'm honest... I only came out tonight to get Alex off my back."

You can see the way it crushes him; the light in his eyes dimming. His shoulders drop and his head lowers, and you feel a wave of guilt overcome you, but your feet stay rooted to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he said, but you know his words are meant more for his own failings than for you - you can see it in his body language, how he’s withdrawing into himself. What you expect is for him to walk away; instead, he looks back up at you, and you feel your heart break as your eyes meet his pained ones.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," you said softly. "I should never have..." You took a sharp breath. "I like you, Spencer. A lot, probably more than I'm ready for. But I just got out of a long-term relationship. I'm not ready to jump into another one, especially with someone who... who deserves a lot more."

“I-I don’t mind taking things slow,” he said, his voice soft as his eyes searched your face, and you knew he was telling you the truth. But he doesn’t deserve to be some kind of… emotional training wheels for you, as you work through a bad breakup. He deserves more than you’ve got to offer.

"Of course you don't," you said, with a tinge of fondness. "You're perfect."

"I think I'm far from perfect," he says, with a self-deprecating grin. "But I'd be happy to be, um... whatever it is you're ready for."

You don't want to say it, but he's really, really, really hard to say 'No' to, and the fact he was so genuine in wanting to be around you made your heart clench. You wanted to say 'yes' so desperately.

Maybe you should say 'yes'. Just to see what happens.

"It's a bad idea," you said reluctantly, your resolve crumbling.

"But it might be just what you need," Spencer said, and he's right - you hate it but you can feel the way he's pulling you in. The way those hazel eyes hold you; the way you just want to spend more time with him.

A mistake, you think to yourself, just as his hand slides down, his fingers slotting with yours. A glorious mistake.

"I don't want to do that to you," you murmured, even though all you wanted to do was kiss him and take him home and ruin him.

"Please," he murmured, stepping just a little closer, as if you had any resolve left at this point. "I'm a big boy. I can make that decision for myself."

The way he stepped so close to you made your skin tingle, and something deep within you tightened, and you were sure that Spencer could see it in your eyes. Your free hand lifted, sliding along his cheek. "I can't," you said, thumb gliding against his cheekbone. "I'm sorry."

Spencer stepped back, and you watch the way his face falls, your hand falling away to your side, but he nods, and the part of you that wasn't ready for this, was happy you'd made that decision. That he would stay safe and away from you - but then he leaned down, and before you can process what it was, he presses a warm kiss to your cheek. "I had a really nice time, tonight," Spencer murmured, and you can hear the sound of his footsteps leave before you can get your mouth to work again.

"Me too," you murmured into the air, sinking against your car, wondering if you'd just made the biggest mistake of your life, letting him slip through your fingers.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

@mysral this is your fault

Vaggie  s l o w l y  putting together the pieces of her strangely un-demon-y rescuer’s identity together as she recovers from multiple traumatic amputations in the MANSION this random demon lady brought her back to,

while Charlie (who assumed vaggie knew who she was) (and then Panicked when she realized vaggie did Not Know) frantically runs around her home throwing blankets over incriminating stuff, trying to not freak out the new friend she found dying in garbage-

later she takes Vaggie on a little stroll down a hallway (once Vaggie's capable of like, standing without flopping over) (arm in arm) (so Vaggie doesn't just flop over)

and they walk along in companionable silence for a bit until...

Vaggie: "So.... Miss Morningstar, huh? Sure fits you better than your old man."

Charlie: "(bleats in startled goat noise) HOW DID YOU- I mean, pfft! It's not that big of a- I mean I'm only the third most important- well the second now? With mom gone? But-!

Charlie: (gives up) Yes, that's me. Princess of hell. For all the good THAT does."

Vaggie: "Hey, you're doing a good job, princess. You're at least not letting some random stranger die of her wounds next to dumpster."

Charlie: "Thanks. (sighs) Can you keep calling me Charlie? Please?"

Vaggie: "Charlie. I can't feel my arm you're holding on so tight."

Charlie: "SORRY!"

Vaggie: "And now you've let go completely, I'm falling."

Charlie: "Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry-"

Vaggie: "I can barely stand. Okay? I'm not, running off anywhere anytime soon or whatever."

Charlie: "Okay. Right."

Charlie: “…”

Charlie: "…And the whole princess of hell thing doesn’t freak you out?"

Vaggie: "Nope."

Charlie: "Not even a little?

Vaggie: "I'm more freaked at being found by the one decent person in hell, to be honest."

Charlie: "But the me being princess thing disappointed you, maybe? Thought I'd be taller or something?"

Vaggie: "You? Tall-er? Yeah no. I get neck pain looking up at you already."

Charlie: "I could hunch down!"

Vaggie: "And what, join me in neck pain? You'd have to fold yourself in half to get on eye-level with me, Charlie."

Charlie: "I could do that! I'm very foldable!"

Vaggie: "You're a sweetie. No."

Charlie: "Heheh."

Charlie: ".... how did you find out though? I thought I'd covered-"

Vaggie: (points up at the GIANT FAMILY PORTRAITS of Charlie and the king and queen of hell LINING THE WALLS OF THE HALL THEY'RE WALKING DOWN)

Charlie: "-everyyyyythhhh oh FOR FUCKS SAKE-"

Vaggie: "Nice emo phase, by the way."

Charlie: "SHIT!!!"

Vaggie: "Aw. I think you were cute.”

Charlie: “(distressed goat sounds) Can we just… steeeer ourselves and the conversation down a less embarrassing hallway..?

Vaggie: “Is that you as a baby?”

Charlie: “You know what that’s enough exercise for one day I think you need rest.”

Vaggie: “Is baby you chewing on a-”

Charlie, walking quickly: “Rest!”

then there's Vaggie, ten minutes later, left alone while Charlie- THE PRINCESS. OF. HELL.- runs out to get more bandages and pain killers for her. like this is normal. like this is not a thing to freaked out about

"SHIT!!!!!!"

vaggie's gonna freak out about it a little, tho.

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Homepage Lines - End of Golden Week (2025)

graphics and proofreading by myuntachis! text version under the cut!

Spring Troupe

Sakuya: I met Kasumi-san and her children by chance. We ended up going to the park to hang out.

Masumi: There’s no one at the dorm. Everyone’s probably either out or sleeping. … Hisoka’s sleeping too. Guess I’ll join him…

Tsuzuru: I went back to my family home for the extended holiday… Every time I go back home my little brothers look taller, so I get pretty emotional.

Itaru: BBQ by the riverside is a party animal activity… Welp, who am I to say no if people require my driving services.

Citron: We had a BBQ! But something went very wrong because of the kusaya the fish dealer gave us…

Chikage: We held an advice corner for the workshop’s exercises… It was a fulfilling holiday. Much better than working.

Summer Troupe

Tenma: I passed by the station and saw a comedy festival going on. Pretty sure Citrun were there.

Yuki: Muku and I ordered a cake so cute that we were a little hesitant to eat it.

Muku: I went to a sweets café with Yuki-kun! We shared many kinds of sweets.

Misumi: The workshop was fun! I was worried whether or not I could set a good example, but it seems everything went okay!

Kazunari: It’s GW and we can’t even go for a BBQ. Sadge~ Should I ask Itarun to lend us his car?

Kumon: Azami and I did a Street ACT for Children’s Day. I was a helmet, it was SO much fun!

Autumn Troupe

Banri: I can’t even catch a break during the extended holiday ‘cause there’s too many assignments to finish… I’ll go to a café to take a breather. Wanna come with, Director-chan?

Juza: I went to the cheesecake shop during Golden Week and saw Keiku. He was eatin’ the sweets like they were delicious again.

Taichi: I went for a drive with Azuma-san! I’m really grateful for how subtly he’s on the lookout…

Omi: Everyone enjoyed the workshop. The mentors this time were Chikage-san and Misumi.

Sakyo: The Ginsenkai guys’ kids came over to play during the holidays. I was babysittin’ them and… remembered how Bon used to be.

Azami: I did a Street ACT with Kumon on Children’s Day, but he startled me when he told me to play a koinobori all of a sudden.

Winter Troupe

Tsumugi: I was a little lonely when I went back to my family home since Zabi was glued to Tasuku’s side the entire time. I wonder if he was cold…

Tasuku: Aniki got drunk and started messing with me when I went back to my family home with Tsumugi. … But well, I guess this kinda thing isn’t so bad every once in a while.

Hisoka: I slept in the courtyard because it was warm outside, and before I knew it Masumi was sleeping next to me. Sleeping outdoors feels good too.

Homare: I chanced upon Sakyo-san while paying a visit to the library and recommended he borrow my poetry collection.

Azuma: During Golden Week, I rode shotgun while our Puppy Boy drove. He’s gotten even better at driving, so it was quite comfortable.

Guy: Many people stayed up late during the holidays. I got to experiment with making midnight snacks thanks to them.

Backstage

Matsukawa: I was working during GW, but I finally managed to get some time off! My GW is only just starting~!

Tetsurou: I went… to a hot spring… This is… a souvenir… manjuu…

Akashi: I ended up spending Golden Week with Rento-san… Being active during the holidays is fun, sometimes.

Rento: I bumped into Akashi while out shoppin’, so we hung out a lil~ It really is better ta spend holidays in high spirits!

Sakoda: Aniki told me to take the day off, so I’m thinkin’ of helpin’ Azami today… Huh, that’s not taking the day off?

[writing-rat]

Gym Crush

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Warning: Just fluff!

Summary: Sam is a gym trainer when you join her classes. Soon enough you become friends and go to Sam's house...

WC: 1180

It was your first day of going to the gym, and you were nervous. You hadn’t gone to a gym in New York before, scared of the people who would be going, but you knew you needed to get back to working out soon. So that is when you decided to look at gym classes, where you found one you liked. It was functional strength, and it was a small class with a name you recognised. Sam Carpenter. One of the Ghostface victims. You knew her from the news when you first moved in when the incidents were happening. You knew she was innocent however, the news said so with proof as well as Gale Weathers, known for the books that spurred the people that wore the Ghostface costume on. Out of intrigue (and because of the class size), you thought you would join. You were lucky you did that due to it being the last spot available and you were excited. The class size was 6 people so you were grateful for that. The first classes you would be going to would be tomorrow, so you decided to get your workout clothes sorted. Grabbing an old faded hoodie and a plain shirt, you put them in a pile then grabbed your favourite sweatpants. You were going to be prepared, and glad you could work from home once a week.

-

It was officially the next day, and it was an hour before your class which was at 4 pm. You made sure you had your water bottle ready as well as having the correct clothes on. You checked the train times before deciding it would be better to walk to the gym. It would be good for exercise too anyway. As you were walking, you were looking around the city since you were still new there, having moved there months ago. 

Eventually walking into the gym, you showed your booking to the receptionist. “Just go down this hallway where there are the classroom gyms and it is the second right. The room is marked with Sam’s name too,” the receptionist said with a smile. “She is a good trainer. She wants to warn people who join however to not mention Ghostface or the allegations whatsoever. She will kick you out quickly if not,” the receptionist spoke, looking at her. You nodded, understanding. “Thank you,” you spoke before walking over to the room and entering, being the first one there. You were 30 minutes early after all. Sam looked up after putting some weights down and smiled.

“Hey! Y/N right?” she asked. 

“Yeah! That’s me,” you confirmed, looking around. “You can put your drink in one of the cubbies. I am Sam Carpenter, your new trainer. I will be helping you to achieve your goals and also make you stronger. You worked out before?” Sam asked, seemingly done with the set-up. “Yeah, but not for a few months. I just recently moved to NYC,” you confirmed, smiling at her gently. Sam was nodding. “Good, good. Well, I can’t wait to see how you improve,” Sam spoke. You nodded, eager to please her. Little did you know what would happen in the future…

-

It was 8 months after you first started lessons, and you were growing a crush on the taller girl. You looked up to her, metaphorically and literally. Hell, you even befriended Sam, having been in her classes the longest and communicating with her if you would be late or would not be able to make it to the lesson. Hell, Sam even started driving you to the sessions and sometimes home. You were thankful for that as you could save money than then go on the train every day. You even talked to Sam more personally, which led to a friendship becoming her best friend. She was still a strict coach with you though during lessons. 

You were currently at the Carpenter-Weather’s house, Gale cooking dinner with Tara while you were leaning against Sam, curled up after a long session and watching a movie with her. You were both watching The Addam’s Family Values, wanting a relaxing film. You felt comfortable in the strong woman’s embrace, leaning more and more into her neck. You weren’t even aware you were doing that as you were more distracted by the film. Sam meanwhile was rubbing your sides as she kissed your forehead, making you smile. You were about to speak when Tara entered the room. “Dinner’s ready!” she spoke, before going back to the kitchen. Sam groaned, stretching before she stood up, holding her hand out for you to take. You smiled, taking it as you got up, shocked that Sam kept holding it after. Your cheeks did heat up a little bit at that action but you didn’t say anything. Tara and Gale just looked at each other with a smirk for some reason that you didn’t know but you just decided to not care about it.

“Thank you, ma’am, Tara,” you spoke, nodding politely. Gale just smiled. 

“Oh please, call me Gale. Ma’am makes me feel old,” Gale just chuckled in response. Nodding in shock, you smiled as you sat down next to Sam. On the plate there were burritos. You were content with that as you started to eat while thanking both Tara and Gale for cooking. 

“If you want to stay over, you can!” Tara happily responded. Sam just widened her eyes and then glared at Tara, but you didn’t know why again. You decided to shrug it off again. “Sure, but where would I stay?” you asked, confused as you tilted your head confused. 

“Sam’s bed?” Tara suggested. Sam nodded. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” she admitted. Gale just smiled, seeing how Tara was being a wing-woman for Sam. 

-

That night, you had decided to stay over. That made you both go to sleep at 1 am, both of you going to her bedroom silently due to the other occupants sleeping. Sam just smiled at you before she kissed your cheek, making you even more flustered as you realised she was being more touchy. She was cuddling you, holding your hands and kissing you. “Are you flirting?” you asked quietly, shaking from nerves admittedly. Sam blinked before she thought then sighed and nodded. “Yes, I am. Is that… ok?” she asked. You just grinned and kissed her, before nodding. “Now let’s cuddle and sleep, I am tired,” you admitted. Sam just grinned and smiled before she went to the bed and was big spooning you. You just cuddled into her neck, glad your feelings were returned. 

The next morning, you woke up early, confused as to why before you heard the shutter of a camera. You looked up sleepily, then saw Tara in the room holding a Polaroid and putting it on the side. “Morning, Gale is happy for you. Now you can go back to sleep,” Tara spoke quietly before leaving. You smiled, shaking your head before quickly falling back to sleep. You didn’t miss the faint kiss of your forehead though. You sighed in happiness.

[quickspinner]

Around the World and Back to You

This is my extremely late Secret Admirer fic for @belledaynight!

The prompt I went with was reunion as adults after crime fighting days are done, and I really had to think how I could make this different from when I've written these in the past, and I ended up following canon farther down the timeline than I normally would. For those avoiding later seasons, in season 5 Luka left Paris, and ended up training as a Guardian. So, I put some thought into how that would affect a reunion later on, and here's what I've got.

Ugh, what a day it had been, but then, was there any other kind for Marinette Dupain-Cheng?

She cheated and took the elevator, which she did at least half the time despite her resolve to use the stairs as much as possible. It was hard when she had had a long day, and her hands were full of stuff she had picked up on the way home because there was no such thing as “just popping in for one thing” in Marinette’s world. She decided, as she stepped through the doors,  that stairs-vs-elevator was just not something she needed to torture herself over. It wasn’t like she didn’t get plenty of exercise.

At least it would be a quiet night, for once. Marinette wrestled her way into the apartment and sighed, leaning against the door to close it. The lights were on, but that was normal, since she always left them on for—

“Don’t freak out.”

“WAAAAH!” Marinette screeched, her things tumbling from her arms as she whirled around, realized she was facing the door, and whirled again, flailing for a moment before finding a defensive stance. 

When she finally comprehended what she was looking at, she felt momentarily dizzy with confusion as past and present collided behind her eyes. It had been more than ten years since she had stepped over the raised lip of the Liberty’s cabin door before being startled in exactly the same way—and by the same boy. Man. Which was it?

Reality slowly resolved itself as she stared at Luka Couffaine, sitting cross-legged on her couch and regarding her calmly, hands on his knees. His shoulders were broader and his face was leaner, more adult than it had been and with an even darker tan, but it was unmistakably him. It didn’t help her confusion that he still wore blue streaks in his hair and a ratty tshirt, and his knees still peeked through the holes of his jeans. A hoodie lay over the arm of the couch beside him. 

His chuckle was the same, too, and his words proved he was thinking of that moment just as she was. “Sorry. Ma-Ma-Marinette.” He grinned, and unfolded himself to stand up and hold out his arms. “I’ve missed you.”

“L-Luka,” Marinette breathed, and then grinned herself, rushing into his arms for the hug he offered. He squeezed her tight, chuckling again as he rested his cheek on the top of her head. He was taller than he had been, and though still lanky, she could feel the firm muscle of his back beneath her hands. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, pulling back to look up at his face. “I haven’t seen you in ages! How long are you back in Paris for?” 

Luka let her slide out of his embrace and brought one hand to the back of his head, tugging lightly on his hair as he gathered himself to answer her question.

“Well, all of that’s kind of related, actually,” he told her. 

“How did you find me?” Marinette demanded, and Luka hooked a thumb back over his shoulder, and Marinette followed the motion to the staff leaning against the wall. The sight of it made her gut grow cold, and she swallowed, eyes flicking back to Luka. He tilted his head slightly, and she knew he had noticed her reaction, but his eyes slid away and he let it pass without comment. He coughed lightly, and looked at the floor. 

“Technically, I found the kwamis,” he said, giving her another lopsided grin. He tugged his hair again before lowering his hands deliberately. His self-consciousness made Marinette feel the same. “I’m sorry I didn’t call first. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to say.” 

“That’s okay.” Marinette shook her head, and found mustering a smile harder than it should have been, but she managed it. “I’m just glad to see you. Um, give me a minute to change, and…?” And what? She didn’t know, but Luka waved a hand, absolving her of the need to come up with something.

“Go ahead. Do whatever you need to do. I’m not going anywhere.” 

For how long? Marinette wanted to ask, but instead she just gathered up her things she had dropped, and moved past Luka to her bedroom.

“Um,” Luka said, and Marinette half-turned. “I could order dinner? I know I’m interrupting your plans, so…” 

“I didn’t really have a plan,” Marinette admitted. He raised an eyebrow, and she amended, “Not for dinner, anyway. There’s some menus in the kitchen drawer.”

“Color code still the same?” he asked, clearly fighting another smile, and Marinette blushed. 

“Yes,” she said, and went into her bedroom before he could say anything else. She locked the door, and the click made her feel a little better, even though the Luka she had known would never have followed her without knocking. 

That was a long time ago, though, and the Guardians as a whole had well-known issues with boundaries. She wondered if Luka knew that this was one of those obscure kwami holidays where they all gathered in the Miracle Box overnight - or longer. The kwamis often had a loose grasp of time. Had Luka come tonight on purpose, so they wouldn’t be interrupted?

She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. 

Marinette decided to go ahead and take a shower to give herself a little extra time before she had to face Luka again. She almost wished she hadn’t decided to change. Her work clothes lent her a professionalism she never would have thought she needed in front of Luka, but…

He was a Guardian now, and so was she, though she had never really felt like one. She was a Guardian and a holder, which was technically forbidden, and somehow visits from the Guardians had never gone well for her.

It had been a shock when Luka had returned to Paris as Su Han’s pupil, but Marinette understood why he had done it. She always had. He was trying to help in the only way he could think of, and he had helped, while she needed him. After that, though…he’d kind of disappeared. She got postcards from him for a while, but they were always short and not very Luka-like, and eventually they stopped all together. She had moved a few times, and had no way to send Luka her new address, so she wasn’t sure if the cards just didn’t get forwarded anymore or if Luka had stopped sending them. He could have sent them to the bakery, though, knowing they would get to her eventually, and…he hadn’t.

She reached for a clean pair of jeans without even thinking about it. Normally she would have worn something fuzzy and comfortable after she got home, and with the old Luka, she wouldn’t have hesitated. But this wasn’t the old Luka, this was Guardian Luka, even if he didn’t dress like it, and after all they were adults now, adults who hadn’t seen each other in years. Instinctively she knew they were not on pajama terms. She grabbed a soft shirt she had made that was comfortable but decorative, ruffled at the bottom and embroidered around the collar. Hangout clothes, but not too casual. 

Luka was just opening the door for the delivery when Marinette emerged, and for a moment there was natural occupation and conversation as they got dinner set up. It felt comfortable, in those moments, and they smiled at each other across Marinette’s small table as they sat down.

Silence fell between them once they started eating though. Luka was glancing at her from under his hair periodically. He had always understood her, and it had always been a relief before, but now she felt afraid of his insights.

“So,” she said, with an attempt at brightness. “How’s the Guardian life?” 

“It’s…interesting,” he answered, stirring the noodles on his plate. “The travel is nice. I’ve been a lot of really cool places, met some really cool people.” Another one of those darting glances, and then a tentative grin. “The rules kinda suck, though.” 

Marinette snorted, and covered her mouth full of food with her hand as she tried not to choke. Luka covered his own mouth to smother a laugh, and in a moment they were giggling together. 

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Marinette gasped, when she was able. 

“I know.” Luka’s grin was full force and sincere, now, and he was looking directly at her. “That’s why I can tell you. It feels good to be able to admit it.” 

Marinette felt a pang of sympathy. “It must be hard for you, having to keep so many secrets.” 

Luka nodded, gaze dropping to his plate. “Definitely not one of my favorite parts of the job. And as cool as the travel is, I miss home. I miss having a home. I mean, there’s the temple, but it’s…” He shook his head. 

“Not your style?” Marinette suggested, and Luka nodded.

“Exactly. I mean, Tibet is gorgeous, and there’s a lot about it I love, but it’s not home.” He reached out a hand tentatively across the table. “And I miss my friends.” 

Marinette couldn’t not meet him halfway after that, and she put her hand in his and squeezed. “I’m glad they haven’t changed you too much,” she blurted, without meaning to, and then winced. “I mean—” 

“No, that’s fair.” Luka gave her hand one more squeeze before releasing it. “They definitely tried.” He shook his head, like he was shaking off memories that she could only guess at. 

Before she could decide whether or not to ask, Luka smiled at her. “We can talk about all that later,” he said. “I want to hear about you. Tell me everything you’ve been up to.” 

Marinette hesitated. “What do you want to know?”

Luka leaned forward a little, still smiling. “What are you most excited to tell me?”

That was an easy question, and Marinette laughed. Once she committed to a topic, the rest was easy. Luka was such a good listener, and he always seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. He asked thoughtful questions, gave her time to right herself when she got tangled up in what she was trying to say, and his eyes stayed fixed on her. Not in an uncomfortable way like the bewildered stare she got from most people, but in a way that made her feel like she held all of his attention in that moment. 

It felt…really good to be listened to, and she felt herself relaxing into something more like their old comfortable camaraderie. Luka was still Luka, after all, she thought, as she made them both hot chocolate after dinner.

“So,” Marinette said, sitting down on the couch beside him. She handed him his mug and folded her legs up beside her, not caring anymore that it made her lean towards him a little bit. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?” 

Luka sighed, and sipped the chocolate before setting the mug down on her coffee table. “I don’t think you’re going to like it.” Before Marinette could do more than freeze in fear, he added quickly, “I’m not here to take the Miracle Box.” He smiled as she relaxed. “You are Ladybug. I can’t imagine anybody else for the job. You’ve protected the Miracle Box and you’ve used the kwami’s powers for good.” He chuckled. “The Guardians are a little sour about it, actually, because you’re so…unconventional. To them, at least.” 

Marinette groaned, letting her head fall back, and Luka laughed, putting a hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head and smiled at him, touched by the old gesture.“So what are you here for, then?” 

Luka withdrew his hand. “I’m here for Nooroo,” he replied simply, watching her.

Marinette tensed up again. “What do you mean?” she asked - demanded, really, though she didn’t mean to be so sharp with Luka.

Luka raised his hands placatingly. “I know that he’s been through a lot. That’s why we’ve let him be for the last ten years.” It gave her a little chill to hear him say we. As unconventional as Luka might be, he was still a Guardian, and Marinette was sure he held whatever promises he had made to the order sacred. “The Order has…well, I guess you could say it’s a ‘get back on the horse’ philosophy. When a kwami’s been treated badly, they don’t like to leave them alone for too long. Healing is one thing, wallowing is another, as one of them put it.” He hesitated, and then admitted, “Honestly, they wanted to do it sooner, and I’ve actually talked them into holding off a couple of times. I wanted to make sure that we find him the right holder, after everything he’s been through. I know how much you must care about him, just like you care about everyone you protect, and I didn’t want to let you down by rushing into something that might not be right.”

Marinette felt heat flush her face, and couldn’t hold his gaze. Luka put a hand on her back. “I think I’ve found someone that will work for him. I want you to meet her first.”

“Her?” Marinette said automatically, looking up. Luka nodded, and then sighed dramatically, raising his hands helplessly.

“It’s my lot in life to be surrounded by powerful women,” he said mournfully, and then grinned. “Not that I’m complaining.” 

Marinette laughed, and they both relaxed a little. 

“She’s an adult,” Luka assured her, “and she has a very nurturing nature, but she’s suffered in the past when people have taken advantage of that. Even so, she still believes in people. I think she and Nooroo can help each other.”

Marinette’s lips thinned as she thought about it. “What about Nooroo’s choice? It doesn’t count to the Order, does it?”

“It counts to me,” Luka said firmly, and there was an authority in his voice that made Marinette blink in surprise. He folded his arms. “That’s one of the things I fight most with the Order about. I won’t force a kwami to take on a holder. Ever. They have few enough choices already, and I’m still not convinced the entire existence of the Miraculous isn’t unethical.” He sighed. “But I can’t change everything at once. The fact is the Order needs me and my connections and understanding of the modern world, so I have some leverage to do things my own way, but it only goes so far. Freeing the kwamis would be such a radical change in their thinking that I don’t think they can even conceive of it.” He gave a lopsided grin. “Yet.” 

Marinette felt a smile spreading across her face. “They really haven’t managed to change you, have they?”

“I hope not,” Luka shrugged. “Not so much that I’d be okay with the eternal subjugation of another thinking being.” He sighed. “I can’t deny the kwamis do a lot of good in the world in the right hands. I still don’t think it’s right.” 

Impulsively, Marinette leaned forward and hugged him. “I’m glad you’re still you,” she managed to get out, and after a frozen moment of surprise, Luka’s arm’s snaked around her waist and pulled her close. He was strong, she realized, and of course he would be, having taken up martial arts training as part of being a guardian. She just…hadn’t realized she would like it so much. 

Embarrassed, she pulled away, smoothing her hair back to have something to do with her hands and maybe to erase the feel of Luka’s muscles under her palms. Her gaze crossed his and they both quickly looked away. Time had clearly dulled her memory of how intense his eyes could be when he was passionate about something. It was almost enough to make her believe he could change the Order. 

“I do want to talk to Nooroo first,” Luka continued, settling back on the couch and picking up his mug again. “I know a new holder will probably be frightening for him, and I’d like to explain and let him meet her too before I spring all of this on her.”

“Is—she’s in Paris?” Marinette frowned. “How long have you been in town?” 

“A few weeks,” he admitted. “And to be totally honest, I’ve been in Paris, or near Paris, off and on for a while now. I wanted to find a holder in or close to Paris. You’re Nooroo’s guardian, after all, and I know you’d want to be able to keep an eye on his new holder, so I tried hard to find someone here.” He glanced at her, nervous again. “I didn’t know whether you’d be happy or upset that I was back, so I put off coming to see you until I knew for sure that I had found the person I wanted.” 

Marinette looked down into her own mug, not sure herself whether she was happy or upset to hear that. He’d been so close, and he hadn’t come to see her until now.

“This way you don’t have to work with me any longer than necessary,” he added quietly. 

Marinette looked down into her mug, breathing in the scented steam. “Why do you think I don’t want to see you?” she asked, keeping her tone as even as possible.

Luka let out a little half-chuckle, half-sigh through his nose, a familiar sound that brought the past vividly back to her again. “I thought you’d be upset that I stayed away for so long. That you might have convinced yourself that I didn’t care about you anymore, and it would make you uncomfortable.” 

Marinette bit her lip, trying to decide if she wanted to ask the next question. Not for the first time, Luka answered it without her having to ask.

“I wrote you at first because I missed you, but it never felt…natural. There were so many things it wasn’t safe to talk about in a postcard, and I had a hard time getting around that to put my real thoughts down. It was never the most natural thing for me, writing. I couldn’t really send you a song.” He sipped his tea. “I didn’t make music for a while after I left Paris, actually. The whole thing with Bob Roth…it just soured the melody for me, I guess.” 

“You don’t play anymore?” Marinette ventured, unable to imagine a Luka without music, and he smiled at her.

“I do, now. I learned a few new instruments while I was traveling, and eventually I started playing guitar again.”

Marinette let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and smiled back. “I’m glad.” Remembering his own words years ago, she added, “It’s your nature.”

Luka gave a slight nod, and then continued. “Anyway, I felt like I was never able to get things right, and you couldn’t write me back, so…eventually I just stopped. I thought maybe it was better for both of us if I just let you go.” 

“I understand,” said Marinette, trying to be cheerful, though there was a lump in her throat. “Besides, you had so much to do, and you were going so many places and seeing so many people, plus your training was so important, it would have been hard to—”

“I didn’t say it worked,” Luka interrupted, a wry amusement in his tone. “I meant it when I said I missed you.”

Marinette closed her mouth abruptly, blinking. Luka reached out and put a hand on her forearm. “I’m really glad to see you again, Marinette. I know you don’t have a lot of reason to trust Guardians, but I promise you, I’m not here to do any harm or criticize you at all. I still think you’re an exceptional holder and absolutely worthy to protect the Miracle Box. I’m still your friend, if you want me.” 

“I do,” she blurted quickly, and blushed. “I mean—”

Luka smiled, and stood up, taking his mug over to her sink. “I should go. I know you must be tired and have a thousand things to do. I just wanted to see you and explain while the kwamis are busy. If you don’t mind, I’ll come by again tomorrow to talk to Nooroo?”

“Uh, sure.” Marinette scrambled to her feet, trailing after him towards the door. He paused to pick up his staff, and then turned to face her. 

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” He put his hand on her shoulder, and his smile was both affectionate and a little sad. “Thanks for hearing me out.” 

He turned to scoop up his hoodie and went to grab his staff. As he moved towards the door, Marinette took a step forward on impulse. “Luka.” 

Luka paused, looking back. 

“I’m really glad you’re here,” she said softly. “I missed you too.” 

Luka's smile lightened, and his shoulders lowered a fraction. “Goodnight, Marinette,” he said, and she gave him a little wave as he let himself out.

“Sass, my friend.” Luka lit up, and Marinette had never seen Sass so openly happy. She couldn’t help but smile as the kwami cuddled up to Luka’s cheek, and Luka cupped a hand around him in the best hug he could give.

She turned away to give them a moment of privacy, and caught Nooroo hovering behind her. He started slightly, but Marinette smiled at him. 

“It’s okay. He’s my friend.” She held out her hand. “And I won’t let anything happen to you, anyway.”

Nooroo drifted forward, and landed in her palm, and Marinette shielded him with her other hand before turning so that Nooroo could see Luka. Luka acted like he hadn’t noticed them at all, but Marinette was pretty sure it was an act. He was giving Nooroo space to get used to him. Seeing Sass’ unbridled joy at being with Luka again might help the traumatized little butterfly god relax. 

Eventually Nooroo began peeking around Marinette’s fingers to get a better look, and only then did Luka look their way and smile. 

“Marinette,” he said warmly, and Marinette felt herself blush. She’d noticed last night that his voice was deeper than it used to be, but hearing it like that, warm and velvety around her name, made her feel suddenly all shivery. Nooroo glanced up at her and her hands jerked with the urge to toss the little empath away from her. Nooroo hurriedly looked away, but she thought he was smirking. 

Sass was definitely smirking as he flitted away back to his nest. 

Well, at least it seemed like Nooroo was feeling more comfortable.

She was glad when Luka suggested they all sit down. Nooroo perched on her knee as Luka explained the situation to him, and Marinette’s heart broke as Nooroo began to shrink into himself at the prospect of a new holder. 

“Nobody is going to force you to do anything,” Luka finished firmly. “You know that I mean that, don’t you?” After some hesitation, Nooroo nodded slowly. 

“Do you want to see her?” Luka suggested. Marinette and Nooroo both looked at him. “You could look for her,” Luka suggested, and Nooroo jolted slightly, hopping to Marinette’s other knee. 

“I would need…someone to transform with,” Nooroo said, looking at Luka with wide, frightened eyes.

“It doesn’t have to be me,” Luka told him reassuringly. “Do you trust Marinette, if she’s willing?” He looked up at Marinette for the first time since the conversation began. “If you transform with him, you’ll be able to sense the person I’m talking about. You can feel her out—literally.” 

He grinned, and Marinette couldn’t help rolling her eyes. Luka looked back at Nooroo. 

“If you don’t want to, I know Marinette won’t make you, and neither will I. I think you know, though, that she wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.” Luka gave Marinette a warm smile.

Not on purpose, Marinette thought. She’d actually had a lot of talks with Nooroo over the years, whenever she tripped over her feelings and created a mess that she didn’t intend. Unsurprisingly, he had a better grasp of human feelings than the other kwamis, and how those feelings could spur people on to do things they might not normally do. She wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to take this chance.

She was startled from her thoughts when Nooroo rose from her knee. Her gaze followed him as he crossed the room and disappeared in the closet. He returned with his Miraculous, and slowly, he brought it to Marinette.

Marinette took a deep breath as she accepted it, and looked at Luka. “What do I look for?”

Luka shook his head. “I can’t really tell you. It looks different to everyone. She’s…balanced, though. Steady.” He shrugged. “Just try. Look for someone…” He smiled. “Extraordinary.”

Marinette rolled her eyes with a self-conscious smile, and called for the transformation. 

It was…not what she had expected. 

“What do you see?” Luka asked softly.

“Colors,” Marinette whispered. “Patterns, I think—” She took a shuddering breath. “But it’s so dark…it’s fear, and anger, and—” She felt tears pricking her eyes. “So much pain.”

“No, it isn’t,” Luka urged. “That’s just a part of it. Nooroo’s attuned to it now after Hawkmoth’s abuse. You can look past it. You can see it as just a part of the whole. Emotions aren’t good or bad unless we perceive them that way.” He hesitated, and then said firmly, “Look at me.” 

It wasn’t so much a physical looking, as a focusing of her attention. She wrenched her mind from the dark, angry, confused colors that threatened to overcome her, and focused on the presence there beside her. 

He was…cool, and shining. His patterns didn’t clash, they flowed. Some of the dark colors were there, but they moved tranquilly along with the rest, neither consuming them nor being overcome, just…there. She saw his kindness, and his deep love for his family, the cold tide of his anger, the warm glow of his patience, and—

She gasped and looked away. It felt wrong to be able to see him this way. 

“I’m not afraid,” Luka murmured, and she knew he lied. She could see the fear tangled around the other feelings, but it was natural enough to be afraid of being so exposed, even with the people you trusted most. And he did trust her—she could see the steady pulse of it, threaded through that other thing she didn’t want to name. That was what he meant, when he said he wasn’t afraid. It was terrifying to be so exposed, but he trusted her not to use what she saw to hurt him.

Was this what it was like to be Luka? To hear what people said, but also sense what they meant that they couldn’t say? Except she needed magic for it, and Luka did it naturally. She’d never asked him whether he literally heard people’s “inner melody” or if music was just the only way he knew how to process what all his intuitive observations were telling him. Merged with Nooroo like this, she saw things in patterns and color and light - would it sound like a symphony to him?

Focus. She tore her awareness away from Luka, though her heart pounded at what she saw there. Later. She would think about that later. She reached out again eagerly, afraid to dwell on what she could see in Luka’s heart.

Without Luka as her focus, the negativity threatened to overwhelm her again, but she took slow breaths and did her best to focus on the things Luka had shown her — steadiness, peace, gentleness, love, empathy. Gradually, the pinpoints of light became clearer, the colors less muddy, and Marinette felt herself smile as the sparks of hope, loyalty, love of all kinds, generosity, and emotions she couldn’t even name began to show through…

There was one that drew her in and warmed her; it was diffuse, unfocused. Not meant for a single person but a general feeling of generosity and goodwill that reached out from a shadowed center. People were complex, after all, and it was unrealistic to expect them to be all light. There was pain, anger, regret - but they felt more neutral somehow. She remembered what Luka said about emotions not inherently being bad or good; love could be twisted, rage could be righteous. She realized she had felt this same neutrality in Luka’s aura, and understood that this person was like him in this way, able to accept her feelings without assigning judgement to them. Balanced. 

This had to be who he meant.

“I found her,” she whispered. 

She felt rather than saw Luka’s smile, a little swell of pride and affection that once again made her afraid to look at him too closely. She studied the new person instead.

“She hurts,” Marinette whispered, empathy coloring her own emotions. 

“Yes,” Luka agreed. “She hurts, but she doesn’t suffer.” 

It was true, Marinette thought, as she watched the feelings shift and swirl. The pain was a part of the person, but not the whole. Not all-consuming, as Hawkmoth’s was. It was focused - this person had given it purpose, but without Hawkmoth’s obsession. Without thinking, Marinette lifted her hand, and a white butterfly landed on it, wings placidly opening and closing as it waited. This person could do so much - could help so many. She was a worthy champion.

Marinette felt Luka’s touch on her wrist, and remembered herself. This woman was worthy to be a champion, of course, but that wasn’t why she was here, and there was no one right now that needed saving. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The butterfly flitted away, apparently unbothered by the unnecessary summons. 

Marinette gathered awareness back to herself, and, because she couldn’t quite help it, she looked at Luka again. He radiated approval and pride and—she couldn’t deny it—love. It hardly felt possible to her that he could still love her so much, and yet so quietly. 

She shouldn’t be seeing this. She closed her eyes and whispered the words, and when she opened them again there was only her living room, and Luka’s gentle smile. Nooroo hovered in front of her, frowning thoughtfully, and Marinette brought her hands under him so that he could perch on them. Luka picked up the bowl of grapes Marinette had set out, and offered it to Nooroo.

Nooroo took a grape slowly in both paws, and nibbled it, his large eyes narrowed slightly. Marinette didn’t think he was glaring at them, though, his look seemed turned inward.  

“What do you think, Nooroo?” Luka asked quietly, setting the bowl down and sinking to sit cross-legged on the floor.

Marinette knelt to sit with him, with Nooroo still in her hands. He seemed to come back to himself. 

“I don’t know,” the kwami said, slowly, and Marinette felt a little spark of hope. That wasn’t a rejection. He was thinking about it, at least.

“I understand. How would you feel about meeting her in person?” 

Marinette and Nooroo both looked at Luka. 

“She owns a cafe across town,” Luka continued. “Marinette and I can go have a date there, and you can watch her for a while.” He winked at Marinette, grinning, and Marinette spluttered. Nooroo looked at her curiously, and Luka gave one of his little huffing laughs as he stood up.

“I’ll meet you there on Sunday, then,” Luka smiled, and stood up. “I’ll text you the address. Goodnight, Nooroo. Marinette.” 

“Good night, Luka,” Marinette said, her heart still beating hard. She twisted to watch him as he stepped past her to let himself out. 

“He is a good Guardian,” Nooroo murmured softly, once the door had clicked shut.

Marinette smiled, still looking at the door. “Because he cares.” 

“He cares about you.” 

Marinette looked at the little kwami in surprise, and Nooroo merely gazed up at her. 

“You know he does,” Nooroo pointed out. “You saw it.”

Marinette’s shoulders curled in a little in embarrassment. “I feel like that wasn’t something I should have seen.”

“He knew you would see it,” Nooroo said thoughtfully. “He told you to look. He is very brave. Not many people can hold their feelings like that so openly. Humans like to hide from feelings.”

“Your new holder—” Nooroo winced. “Potential holder,” Marinette amended. “She is like that.”

“Mm. So it seems, but…” Nooroo’s expression was turned inward again, and Marintte’s smile faded as she recognized his brooding mood.. “Excuse me, Guardian.” He lifted from her hands and zipped away too quickly for Marinette to even see where he went. He didn’t want to be followed, she thought.

Marinette sighed, and fell back to flop on the floor, letting her mind turn to more mundane matters.

So technically, she had a date with Luka. He was joking, of course, it was just a cover so they could meet up plausibly, but…she remembered those feelings she had seen when she was transformed.

She put both hands over her face and screamed quietly into them.

Paris had no shortage of bistros and cafes, and as Marinette walked into this one, she couldn’t help feeling that it fit the stereotype. Round tables outside with decorative umbrellas, and small tables with wire chairs inside, plus a corner done up as a sitting area with comfortable chairs and a couch. Nothing to suggest that the next hero of Paris worked here.

Marinette picked up her menu automatically as she was seated, but she wasn’t really looking at it. Instead, she looked around, taking in the atmosphere and trying to notice details, but she found herself a bit distracted. She hadn’t seen Luka since he’d proposed this “date,” though they had talked over text a few times. A few days to sit with what she’d seen in him hadn’t resolved her confusion, and neither had his texts, which seemed so…normal. Updates on places he had stopped by, old friends he had seen, a picture of a music shop that looked like it must have been around for decades - if not centuries. Marinette wasn’t sure what to think. 

“Are you doing all right?” 

Marinette started a little, and then looked up into the face of the woman standing next to her. She held a round tray clutched to her chest, and her smile was shy but sincere. She had beautiful dark hair tied up in an elaborate braided bun, and dark, soft eyes. She wore a name tag that said Eve. Marinette found herself smiling back. 

“I’m fine. I’m just waiting for my f—for my, um,” she had a hard time getting the word date out of her mouth. You’d think after so much lying I’d be better at it.

“You’re meeting someone special?” the woman asked, and Marinette nodded. That was the truth, at least, so it was easier to admit it. 

“I guess he’s running a little late,” she said, flipping her phone over to check the time. “I can order something, if—” 

“Oh, no, no,” Eve waved a hand frantically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rush you. You just looked, so, er…” She smiled, hunching her shoulders a little. “Unsettled? I don’t mean to be rude. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Oh,” Marinette blinked, and then smiled. “Thanks for checking on me, um, Eve.”

“It’s my job,” Eve said cheerfully, and gestured vaguely to the cafe. “My grandmother left me this place, and I always try to keep it as welcoming as it was when she was in charge.”  

“Oh, wow.” Marinette was genuinely impressed. “My parents own a bakery, and I know how much work it is to run your own business. I’m Marinette, by the way.” She held out her hand and Eve gave it a little shake, sliding into the seat across from Marinette. “Have you always wanted to run the cafe?” 

Eve winced. “Not really, to be honest. But this place has kept me going through some really hard things, so I’ve come to love it. I’m studying psychology after hours.” 

“It’s hard, working and studying at the same time,” Marinette sighed. She knew that all too well.

Eve hummed agreement. Marinette checked her phone again. It seemed unlike Luka to be late like this—but she’d certainly left him hanging often enough. She couldn’t blame him.

“Worried?” Eve asked gently.

“A little,” Marinette admitted. “I don’t think he’d stand me up, but I’m a little surprised he’s not here yet. I hope nothing happened.” 

“Is it your first date?” 

“Yes. I mean no. I mean—” Marinette slapped her hands onto her face. “The first date was a long time ago, and it…things didn’t go so well back then.”

“But you’re different people now,” Eve said, tapping the table in front of them lightly as if she were patting Marinette’s shoulder. “He must think there’s another chance for you if he’s willing to go out with you again.”

Marinettte made a noise that was meant to be positive, but it came out more as a whimper. 

“Don’t quit before you try,” Eve said firmly. “That’s my motto. Or mantra. Something like that.” She grinned, a little sheepishly. “It’s how I give myself the courage to do things that scare me. Don’t assume failure before you take the chance.”

Marinette smiled. “That’s a good philosophy.” 

Eve smiled back, then tapped the table lightly again before standing up. “Good luck, Marinette.”

“Thanks, Eve,” Marinette waved, and sat back a little. She glanced down at the purse in her lap, and saw Nooroo’s wide eyes peeking up at her. “She seems really nice,” Marinette whispered. Nooroo fidgeted and then disappeared into her purse again. Tikki gave her a flipper-flick that was the kwami’s best imitation of a thumbs up, and then slid down into the purse as well.

“Sorry I kept you waiting.”

The familiarity of the voice nor the gentle touch on her shoulder didn’t stop Marinette from jumping, and a little scream escaped her mouth. 

Luka sighed, and then smiled. “Sorry. I always seem to do that to you.” 

“Stop sneaking up on me!” Marinette snapped, more harshly than she meant to. Luka only cocked an eyebrow at her. 

“You’re facing the door and I walked up in plain sight.” Teasingly, he added, “Stop thinking so hard.” He tapped her forehead gently, then pulled out the chair Eve had vacated and sat down. He lowered his voice. “Did you meet her?” 

Over his head, Marinette saw Eve mime a little cheer for her. “I did,” she admitted, and couldn’t help smiling at Eve. 

“I figured you would, if I left you here for a bit,” Luka chuckled. “She’s got good intuition, that one.”

Marinette frowned at him. “You let me sit here on purpose?” 

“Yeah,” he admitted, with a little shrug. “She’ll mostly leave us alone while we’re together, but I thought she’d probably come talk to you if I hung back for a bit. Sorry if I made you nervous.” He put his hand out across the table, and Marinette slowly put hers in his, since they were supposed to be on a date. 

“I guess I can’t blame you for a little payback.”

“It’s not like that,” Luka said immediately. “Not at all.” He leaned forward a little. 

“I understand a lot better than I did before,” he said softly. “The secrets, and the burden that comes with them. And you were so young, and going through so much…I’m so sorry.”

This time Marinette’s frown was more from confusion than displeasure. “Sorry for what?” she asked.

Luka laughed softly. “I don’t even know, really. I’m just sorry. For everything you went through. For any time I made your life harder. I tried not to push, but I’m sorry my feelings were a burden to you back then.”

“You didn’t make my life harder, Luka. You had every right to be upset that your girlfriend kept running off. I appreciated so much that you believed in me - you knew I had to have a reason, even if you were a little off about what it was.” She squeezed his hand. “I know how conflicted you felt. I saw you struggle with Hawkmoth. If I hadn’t hurt you, he never would have been able to get to you like that.” Luka said nothing, and Marinette leaned forward a bit, tugging on his hand to make him look at her. “You were just a kid, too, Luka, and you did so much for me.. I don’t blame you for anything that happened back then.”

Luka brought his other hand up to cradle hers between both of his. “I don’t blame you, either. You were doing the best you could. I’m happy you gave me a chance. I don’t regret any of the time we spent together. I didn’t, even before I really understood.”

“Really?” Marinette whispered, and Luka nodded, eyes holding hers. Marinette sighed. “I wish I could be as zen about this kind of thing as you are.”

Luka squeezed. “I’ve always loved your passion. Your big feelings are part of who you are. I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

“I would,” Marinette groaned immediately. She held up her thumb and forefinger together. “Maybe just a little. Just enough that I wouldn’t be so insensitive to other people when I get caught up in my big feelings.”

Luka laughed. “That’s just part of growing up. We’re all self-centered little shits as teenagers. You’re not unique in that.” He held a hand up before she could argue. “No, me too. It just looked a little bit different for me. We’re all searching so hard for identity at that age, and mine was being the chill guy who never got upset and everybody could count on. It took me a while to realize that selflessness could also be selfishness when it’s for the wrong reasons. I hope I’m a little more balanced these days.” Quickly, he added, “What’s Nooroo think?” and Marinette knew he didn’t want to talk about that anymore.

“He’s still being pretty shy,” she said, peeking into her purse. “Hey,” she said softly, trying to look like she was still holding a conversation with Luka instead of talking to her bag. “Do you want to come out for a bit? You can spend some time with her as long as you stay hidden. I’ve got your miraculous so you’re still safe.”

Nooroo hesitated, looking at Tikki, but then he peeked out of the purse and, when he was sure no one was looking, floated out and under the table. The next time Eve passed them, Marinette saw a little blue flash disappear into her apron pocket.

“Well,” Luka said, sitting back in his chair. “I guess we have some time to kill while he gets to know her. Can I order you something?” 

“When are you leaving?” Marinette blurted, and Luka blinked at her. “Not that I want you to leave,” she clarified quickly. “It’s just, I know you probably have to leave, eventually, and I’m really liking seeing you again and I just—I just want to know when it’s going to end, so you know, I don’t get too caught up and forget that that’s going to happen, because—”

“What if I didn’t leave?” Luka interrupted, folding his arms on the table and leaning on them to look at her. 

“W-what?” was all Marinette could manage. 

“What if I plan to stay in Paris for a long time?” The way he was looking at her was doing things to Marinette’s stomach, and she wasn’t sure whether she liked it or not. She tried to pull herself together, to focus.

“What, um, what would that look like?” she asked, unconsciously leaning back a little. He was just so intense, all of a sudden. Her heartbeat was suddenly throbbing as if she were sprinting up stairs instead of sitting in a peaceful cafe.

“Well, if that thing we’ve been discussing happens,” he glanced around, that quick, instinctive glance that Marinette had also acquired, the one that came with secrets you couldn’t share and had to protect. “I’d need to be around to help train the new—person. At least, that was what I was thinking. And I’ve honestly been getting a little tired of the globetrotting. I’d like to have some stability, for a while, and Paris is still home. You could help me out if I needed to get anywhere in a hurry.”

She could, that was true. If the Guardians objected to Luka holding a miraculous himself, she could always accompany him as Pegabug. 

“I might have to run off for a month or two here and there, that way,” Luka admitted, and he’d dropped his gaze now to where he was tracing the tile of the tabletop with a finger. Marinette had a sudden flash of memory where Luka had taught her box breathing, breathing in time with tracing a square like that. Was he nervous?

“I don’t have to, though,” he continued. “You could easily train a new person - you trained all of us, after all.” He grinned. “So if it makes you uncomfortable to know I’m in town, or to have a Guardian involved directly in training the new holder—” 

“No,” Marinette gasped, and then put a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I mean, of course I wouldn’t be upset about having you around. You’d be an amazing teacher for a new—person. You’re…really thinking about staying?” For me? She clamped her lips on the words. That was ridiculous. Why was she even thinking that? How much teenage ego she must still have, to think he would still be mooning after her when they hadn’t talked in years…shit he was talking.

“--or maybe working some place like this,” he was saying as he glanced around the cafe. 

Eve caught his look and came over, clearly thinking he wanted to order. She chatted easily to Luka while beaming at Marinette, clearly cheering her on. Marinette was glad for the break to process, although she did manage to order something, asking weakly for whatever Eve recommended. Eve’s smile dimmed a little bit as she caught on to Marinette’s unease. 

“Let me know if you need anything else,” Eve said, a little too earnestly, and Marinette understood Eve was offering her an out if she needed it.

“You’re freaking out,” Luka said, leaning back in his chair as Eve walked away. She both hated the distance and was grateful for space to breathe.

“I’m—no, I just—uh—” Marinette bit her lip, twisting her purse strap in her fingers. “I don’t know.”

Luka nodded. “Paris is a big city. You don’t have to see me any more than you want to. Or at all, if you want. I’m not here to push into your life.” 

“Pff, of course not,” Marinette laughed, hoping it didn’t come off as hysterical as she felt. “Why should it be all about me?”

Luka hesitated, and pressed his lips together for a moment before answering. “It’s at least partly about you,” he said quietly. “I miss you. I meant it when I said I don’t regret any of our time together, but I do have some regrets about how things went down, and the way I let us drift apart afterwards.”

“That wasn’t all you,” Marinette protested weakly, and he waved it away. 

“It really doesn’t matter now. I just want to try again. See what our friendship is like now that we don’t have to hide so much from each other.”

“You make it sound so mutual,” Marinette muttered, twisting her fingers together. “It was all me and you know it.”

“Back then,” he agreed. “I have secrets of my own now, though. Like I said, I understand better now. I know how valuable it is to have someone you can be real with.” 

Marinette peeked up from under her lashes. Her stomach felt all weird and squirmy. She wasn’t sure if she could be friends with Luka again. Not…not just friends. Even best friends. She was already so drawn to him after only a few days. 

She wondered what he would say if she told him. Was he really just wanting a friend to confide in and share secrets with? Or could he want something more? She felt that he did, but she didn’t know if the past was coloring her perception. 

Color. Her mind flicked back to the night in her apartment, when she had seen his heart in a swell of colored light. He loved her, didn’t he? But was that enough, after everything? 

He was looking at her so earnestly, a slight crease between his brows, and she felt suddenly self-conscious. She’d always been an open book to him…and he’d always treated what he read there so delicately. 

She licked her lips unconsciously as she considered just…telling him how she felt. How bad would it be if he said no—or not yet? 

A light touch on her knee made her look down, and Nooroo was perched there, looking up at her with such a conflicted expression that she immediately moved to curl a hand around him protectively. 

“He wants to go,” she whispered to Luka, shepherding the little kwami into her purse gently. Nooroo dove deep, and Marinette thought she heard Tikki’s soft reassurance. She sighed, heart aching. 

“Then let’s go,” Luka said immediately, flagging Eve down. Marinette had to work to smile at her as Luka handed her a credit card, and didn’t even have the presence of mind to protest Luka paying for everything. 

Eve brought his card back and handed Marinette a box with a wink, nodding at the piece of cake on her plate that she’d barely touched. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered, setting a hand on Marinette’s shoulder as she walked by. 

Luka raised his eyebrows at Marinette, and she hurriedly focused on scraping her cake into the box, trying not to knock anything over in the process. 

Luka put his hand on the small of her back as they hustled out of the cafe, trying not to look like they were hustling. Once outside, they nipped into an alley, and Marinette peered into her purse.

“Nooroo?” she whispered. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” came the reply, but faintly, and he didn’t peep out at her. “I just…I need to think.”

“Of course,” Luka said softly. “Take your time. Let’s get you home.” He looked at Marinette, and she nodded.

It was too crowded to talk much on the subway. Luka stood close to her, not touching, but hovering as if he wanted to. “Are you okay?” he asked, as they both shifted for passengers to disembark, and she nodded. 

“Just worried about him,” she confessed, and then hesitated. Luka touched her hand, and she grabbed onto his fingers, squeezing tightly. Luka wiggled his fingers until he could wrap them around hers, and she took a deep breath. Not a good time. 

When they finally emerged from the metro in Marinette’s neighborhood, she was practically vibrating with anxiety, and Luka clearly sensed it, as he tugged her gently over into a small strip of grass and trees between the buildings. The trees were small and meticulously pruned, but Marinette felt better as she put her hand against the trunk of one, and breathed, her other hand still clinging tightly to Luka.

“You look a little overwhelmed,” he said, shifting to cradle her hand in both of his. 

Marinette laughed shakily. “Story of my life, right? When have I not been overwhelmed?”

Luka nodded, looking at the ground before meeting her eyes again. “What can I do?”

“I don’t know,” Marinette sighed, turning to put her back against the tree trunk. “Tell me I’m not an irredeemable screwup?” 

An incredulous laugh burst out of Luka for a moment, but he choked it back, though the effort twisted his smile. “You are absolutely not an irredeemable screw up,” he said, not quite as earnest as he wanted to be because he was still trying not to laugh.

Marinette rolled her eyes, and Luka dropped her hand, turning away from her to smother his laughter.

“Sorry,” he said finally, still smiling as he turned back to her. “Let me try again.” 

He took both her hands in his, and leaned his head down a little to look at her. He opened his mouth, and then closed it and swallowed, any remaining humor fading abruptly away. Marinette’s own smile wavered as he focused on her again.

“Marinette, I’ve seen a lot of places, and I’ve met a lot of incredible people. Good people, with good hearts and incredible spiritual strength.” He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “None of them compared to you,” he said finally. “You’re still the most extraordinary girl I ever met. You were on my mind with every potential holder I ever met or trained. You are not a screw up, no matter how inadequate you feel.”

Marinette smiled up at him. “They were so lucky to have you to teach them. I wish I could—” she paused, and bit her lip, feeling a stab of guilt for the disloyalty to Master Fu. He had done his best, she supposed, but… “I wish I could have had someone like you to teach me.”

Luka nodded, tugging her hands lightly, and she let him pull her into an embrace. She sighed, settling against him, enjoying the way he engulfed her. It made her feel warm and safe. She really did envy those holders that had had Luka’s patience and gentle nature to guide them through their first mistakes as holders. She supposed she was lucky he had been there to help her through her first mistakes in love.

They definitely weren’t her last. 

Was it too late?

What if it wasn’t?

Luka’s hand smoothed down her back, and she leaned into him a little more. He smelled nice, and she realized he wore cologne.. She half-remembered him smelling of sunscreen and cheap detergent once upon a time, but now he smelled like green tea and spice. She wondered if it was something he found traveling. 

Abruptly she realized she’d been clinging to him for an awkwardly long time for a friendly hug, and she nearly jerked back. Luka didn’t try to stop her, but caught her hands again to steady her when the momentum threw her off balance. 

“Sorry,” she said quickly, flustered. “You’re all grown up and I’m still just as clumsy and ridiculous and—insecure as ever. Sorry.” 

Luka shook his head. “You’re perfect just the way you are, Marinette.” His thumbs slid over the backs of her hands, and her insides suddenly felt like jelly. “I—” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

Marinette tilted her head, watching him. She wasn’t sure what that expression meant. “What?” she asked softly.

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to make it complicated for us to work together. It’s just…I’ve never minded your clumsiness, and I love the way you burst out with the way you feel. Too many people stuff their feelings down because they feel too vulnerable to let them out, but yours are always brave and bold.” He smiled. “Even when you make a mistake and hurt someone, you always do whatever you have to do to make it right.  So don’t ever feel like you have to apologize for being yourself.”

You can be yourself with me. Just yourself.

 “After all these years, you don’t even know me anymore,” she teased, trying to lighten a mood that suddenly felt too intense, but Luka’s eyes stayed focused on her, and her heart was beating so hard she felt like she could barely breathe.

“I think there’s a lot I don’t know about you,” he corrected with a chuckle. “But I’m pretty sure I still know you. I don’t think you can change that much.”

“You think I haven’t changed,” Marinette pouted, and something crossed his face that made her blush. 

“I definitely didn’t say that,” he told her, tugging her hands down lightly so she took a step towards him. For a wild moment she thought he was going to kiss her, and she had just enough time to wish he would before he dropped her hands and took a step around her. “Can I walk you home?”

“Uh, sure,” Marinette said, taking a quick step to catch up with him. “Where are you staying, anyway?” 

Luka grinned. “The Grand Palais.” 

Marinette gave him a look. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I have Jagged’s credit card. I usually try not to use it, but…” he shrugged. “I figure Jagged doesn’t mind me using it to wine and dine his favorite designer. Probably would be offended if I didn’t.” He offered Marinette his arm, and she laughed as she slid her hand through his elbow.

“I saw his comeback tour,” she admitted.  

“He can only stay out of the spotlight for so long,” Luka sighed, rolling his eyes. “It’s his way of helping, though. He’s not really cut out for the Guardian life, but his money has helped us out of some really tight places, and he has a lot of connections. Plus people are used to him asking for weird shit, so that’s a useful cover.” 

“You took it really well, when you found out about him.” 

Luka winced and put a hand over his face for a moment, before letting it slide down and wipe away whatever he was thinking. 

“I don’t like thinking about how I found out,” he admitted. “That whole…mess. Don’t apologize,” he warned, lifting a finger. “I’m not talking about you, I’m talking about me.” He sighed. “I thought I was past all of that. It wasn’t pleasant to find out how wrong I was. It was…humbling.” Luka shook his head. “It was hard to be mad at him, after that. I felt like I didn’t have any right to criticize after, y’know, tossing him halfway across Paris.” He groaned, putting his face in his hand again. “I can’t stand thinking about all that teenage angst.”

Marinette giggled. “I so know what you mean.”

Luka grinned. “I know you do. Marino.”

“Aaarrrgggghhh you jerk I can’t believe you brought that up,” Marinette moaned, trying to pull away, but Luka held onto her and she had to smile when he laughed so whole-heartedly. 

I want him to stay, she thought suddenly. I really, really want him to stay. 

Her hand fluttered to her chest, fingertips brushing her pounding heart, before she forced herself to put her hand back down again at her side. She couldn’t quite make it relax and her fingers curled together. 

He was waiting for her, like he always did. She knew it now with miraculous clarity. He wanted to stay, and he wanted her to want him to stay, and he was waiting for her to say he could. 

It didn’t have to be a big thing, right? She could say it, somehow, and he would know what she meant even if she didn’t say it say it, and then they would have time, and they could figure out things as they went. 

She felt a light touch on her hip, and looked down to see Nooroo peeping up out of her bag, his little flipper nudging her. She stroked his forehead with one finger, a gesture he seemed to like. He gave her a tiny little nod, and slipped back into her purse.

What was that, she wondered. Was he saying—-was he okay with this arrangement? He wanted to try the new holder? Or…was he sensing her hesitation, and encouraging her. 

Freaking empaths, they were so confusing. Just because they could practically read minds—

“I think it went well,” Luka murmured, and Marinette jumped slightly. “He didn’t reject the whole idea.” 

“Mm,” Marinette agreed, not knowing what to say. 

“He can take his time,” Luka went on. “There’s a vintage record shop I’ve been looking at. The owner’s looking to sell, and it would make a pretty good cover while I’m here.” 

Here was her opening, and Marinette couldn’t make a sound. She didn’t say anything, and she felt Luka’s silent sigh, and wanted to bang her head against a wall.

Suddenly they were standing in front of Marinette’s apartment building, and Luka began to pull away.

Say something. DO something.

She tightened her hand on his arm and tugged a little, and Luka reversed his momentum, walking through the door with her. She still clung to him in the elevator, still trying to make her brain or her voice or something work, before he decided she didn’t want him. 

She did want him. She did . Why couldn’t she just say it.

Luka stopped them in front of her apartment door, and his arm slid out of her grasp as he faced her.

He was going to say goodbye, and he was going to leave , and—

Say something say something DO SOMETHING

Marinette hardly knew what she was doing as she stepped forward and took his face in her hands, raising up on her toes as high as she could, and kissed him—or tried to. She still wasn’t quite tall enough, so her kiss hit his chin more than his lips, but only for a moment, as he eagerly bent down to meet her, a desperate little noise coming from his throat as he wrapped his arms around her and their lips met more fully. 

It was everything she had ever imagined, soft and intense and electric all at once. Luka’s hands splayed on her back, pulling her closer, and she gasped a little. She felt him freeze and slid her hands behind his neck to pull him back in. 

When her eyes opened again she felt rather proud of the dazed way he looked at her, the glow in his tanned cheeks, and the slightly slack-jawed expression. She couldn’t help a giggle. His eyes focused back on her, and she shivered. She thought he was going to say something, but he leaned in and kissed her again. Marinette freed one hand, flailing for the handle of her door. He followed her willingly, mouth still hot on hers, as she got it open and pulled him inside. Luka kicked the door shut behind them and leaned back against it, pulling Marinette into him. She pressed against him shamelessly, letting her purse slide to the floor. If there was a little squeak as it hit the floor and faint giggles around the apartment, Luka and Marinette were far too busy to notice. 

“Wow,” he murmured, and cleared his throat, letting his head tip back as Marinette felt his chest up shamelessly. “I admit I was maybe hoping for that to happen, but I thought it would take a lot longer.” 

Marinette giggled. “We’re not kids anymore,” she reminded him.

“Oh I know.” Luka’s hands drifted a little lower on her back. “I’m definitely not complaining.”

“You don’t think it’s maybe a little fast?” she asked, mostly teasing but genuinely curious. The doubt she had stomped on wanted to creep up again, but Luka’s words crushed it to dust. 

“Not with you,” he said, so earnestly that her breath caught and her eyes stung. “I’m all in for wherever you want to go from here. If we end up having a passionate affair for a few months before we decide we’re better as friends—” Marinette felt a rush of heat all down her body at the words. “—I’m going to enjoy every second of it. If it goes the way I’d like it to and we end up with something longer term, something…permanent, then I don’t want to miss a second when I could have been with you.” He leaned down and kissed her again, soft and slow. 

It took her a moment to open her eyes when he pulled away. “Don’t the Guardians have rules about this kind of thing?” Marinette asked, already half-knowing the answer.

Luka didn’t disappoint her. He rolled his eyes. “Fuck the Guardians.”

Marinette laughed. “Maybe just the one,” she purred, tapping Luka on the nose, and taking great pleasure in watching him flush. The deep rose tint to his tan was very attractive, she decided, and rose up on her toes to kiss him again.

Fiction Master Post 

[milaisreading]

hello there how a\is your day currently? I really do enjoy your blue lock fanfic its really cute and good 😁👍! I was wondering if you could make a part 3 of the cross dresser player AU i found it pretty interesting and really was wondering what could happen next. (Also pls don't worry take all the time you need 🥰. Have a good day or night.

🌱🩷: Here is pt3!! Sorry that it took so long! Thanks for reading!

Masterlist for this series

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. In the story, the boys will be using he/him when addressing Yn. Requests for this series are open.

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura ⚽️

After the entrance exam had ended, the days of the most grueling exercises for (Y/n) and her team had started. Running on treadmills for hours, push ups, sit ups, jumping, and a ton more exercises became (Y/n)'s everyday activity. After that, she would eat dinner and then have practice with Barou in one of the training rooms. She would be exhausted at the end of the day, but it was a feeling she embraced. Anything was better than her home.

'I wonder when this will end.' She hummed as both her and Barou filled up their water bottles.

"You seem pretty tired today." Barou noted.

"More tired than usually."

"Ha? What? Are you worried for me, King?" (Y/n) teased, knowing how easy it is for Barou to get riled up.

"Don't be stupid. If the only person competent enough to keep up with me gets sick, I won't move further in my training." Barou said, trying to hide the embarrassment written on his face.

"So serious~" She mused as they entered the familiar training room.

"Shut it! Now, back to training. You pass me first for my shots. Then I will maybe help you out." To anyone else, his words did sound arrogant and lacked actual motivation to help, but (Y/n) was at this point pretty used with his words, and she knew he would help her.

"Ready, King?" She asked, kicking the ball up a few times as Barou rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah."

A few hours later, the duo had finished their night practice, and they were resting a little in the practice room before they would shower. This was the least favorite part of (Y/n)'s day, since she always had to make up an excuse why she can't shower with everyone at the same time.

"Let's go then." Barou declared as (Y/n) finished drinking her water.

"You can go without me. I will clean up here first." She told Barou, who was about to protest, but got interrupted by her.

"I still need to cool down a little." (Y/n) added in quickly, causing the taller to just sigh and nod his head.

"Fine, but don't you dare to skip out in it. Because sleeping in your own sweat is gross."

"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes as Barou walked out. Once he was gone, (Y/n) sighed, feeling very nervous about everything. At first she thought she would very easily avoid things like showers and changing clothes, since she didn't think she would bond with anyone in her team, so nobody would care to notice or ask, but now... now it was getting harder and harder.

'Get a grip on yourself, (Y/n). This project just started...' She lightly slapped her cheeks and shook herself out of those thoughts.

An hour later, (Y/n) got back to her team's room, where she found everyone asleep. In relief, she noted that Barou was there too, so she took her clean clothes and walked to the shower room.

Once inside she took off her clothes and quickly started showering, she knew that here she had to be fast, just like back in Hakuho.

'A never ending cycle-' the girl's thoughts got interrupted as she heard the door to the shower room open.

"(Y/n), you here?" She froze in her spot when she heard Barou's voice.

'Crap! Wasn't he asleep?!' She thought as his footsteps grew louder.

"Oi! I don't know what the issue is, but this is getting ridiculous-" Barou said loudly as he got to her shower cabin, only to freeze up at what he saw.  The boy's face paled as the two stared at each other for a moment.

"The hell are you looking at?!" (Y/n) yelled as Barou covered his eyes and looked away.

"Why are you yelling at me?! You are the one- THE HELL IS THIS?!" Barou said back, obviously embarrassed as (Y/n) sighed.

"Please, just get out. I will talk to you when I get dressed."

"Yeah..." with that, Barou bolted out of the room and (Y/n) turned off the water.

"Damn it... and I hid this well for so many years..." She but her lip and his the shower wall a few times.

After (Y/n) got out of the shower, the duo were now in the dining hall, both looking at each other awkwardly. If the situation wasn't serious, (Y/n) would have joked with Barou on how speechless he looked.

'Now he will probably tell Ego and I will get kicked out!' She thought nervously as Barou cleared his throat.

"So... you are a girl then?"

"Yes." She nodded her head.

"Why did you pretend to be a guy then?"

"I..." She looked at Barou in panic as the boy kept a stern look on his face.

'I can't just say that my 'parents' forced me to be like this!'

"Ehm..." (Y/n) looked around the place.

"It's... it's a long story, and I..."

Barou, noting her panic and discomfort sighed and shook his head. This whole situation was way more complicated than he thought. He just wanted to check up on (Y/n) to see if she was ok. He just thought that she may be sick or at the very least have discomfort showering with others, but now he understood the problem.

"You know what? I won't force you to tell me, the damage is already done... just, when you go to shower next time, tell me so I can make sure nobody goes into the shower room when you are there."

"You... you won't tell on me?" (Y/n) asked in shock as Barou shook his head.

"No."

"Why?"

"Whatever your reason for this is, is none of my businesse. I just came here to become the #1 striker. And also..."  Barou stopped speaking for a moment, contemplating what to say next.

"You are the only one I can practice with, and are also the only one who keeps hi-her side of the room clean."

(Y/n) stared at Barou for a moment, the said boy's face was as red as a tomato.

"What are you staring at?!" He asked, obviously agitated and embarrassed. (Y/n) blinked for a moment, and then smiled at the boy.

"Thank you, Barou. It means a lot."

"Tch! Whatever." The red-eyed boy said, causing (Y/n) to laugh a little at his outburst.

The same night, after both were back in their room, (Y/n) fell asleep as Barou stayed awake in his futon. He would occasionally glance at the sleeping girl, tensing up if he saw a teammate unconsciously move his arm closer to her. Barou sighed, unsure what to think of everything that unfolded tonight.

'Now I am even more confused.' He thought as he put a hand over his heart.

[wnbawag]

Don't Let Your Intrusive Thoughts Win Part 4

Pairing: Breanna Stewart x OC!Griffin

Summary: Griffin, the 9th 2024 WNBA draft pick, was an unusual case, coming out of the University of Kentucky. You see, Griffin was short. Not just WNBA short, like short short. Like Griffin was barely 5’2. The Liberty, the team she was drafted to, loved to call her the shortest player of all time, but Griffin loved to 1. Remind them that Shannon Bobbitt was also 5’2 and 2. That she was definitely taller than Shannon. So she was the second shortest WNBA player of all time. The Liberty would roll their eyes at her, basically as one. 

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1.5k

Note: I'm realizing now I never gave this poor child a last name. If you read these notes, send me a suggestion. Also I'm taking creative liberty with the Liberty's 2024 season, deal with it 🤷‍♀️.

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It was *almost* an unspoken agreement between the two.

Stewie walked Griffin all the way to her doorstep, making some excuse about Sandy killing her if the rookie got ‘snatched’ on her way home.

Stewie turned down Griffin’s offer to come inside, saying she needed to get home, but handed Griffin her phone, telling her to put her number in.

“You’re not walking to and from Barclays every day, I live in the next building over, we’ll ride the subway together,”

And so they had.

For the weeks leading up to the first game, Stewie kept her word. She’d be waiting for Griffin outside her building every morning and in the locker room every evening.

It was … nice.

Griffin found herself looking forward to their subway rides. She was starting to like Stewie more and more. Their friendship was evolving from Griffin just poking fun and messing with the vet to a genuine friendship.

The subway rides had also become Stewie’s favorite part of the day. She enjoyed the way Griffin’s face lit up when she saw her every morning. The way the rookie kept close to her on the subway wasn’t bad either.

The subway still scared Griffin, she felt like everyone was out to get her and couldn’t shake the fear from the first time. But with Stewie? She always felt safe. The vet would keep Griffin in front of her, oftentimes they were so close that Griffin’s back was pressed close against Stewie’s front. 

One particular evening, the subway was so crowded that Griffin was already pressed into Stewie’s front when she felt a man beside her grab her thigh. She was face to face with him in an instant as he crowded her, so close she could smell how gross his breath was.

Before she could decide whether to scream or slap him, Stewie’s arm came around her shoulders, hand splaying against her chest, pushing her even closer to the vet.

The man had to look up to meet Stewie’s thoroughly unimpressed face. You could see the regret in his eyes as he took in all 6 ‘4 of her.

“Try again,” She said, New York accent thick on her tongue. 

He muttered out a ‘sorry’ and disappeared into the crowd around them.

Griffin didn’t realize she was shaking until Stewie’s other hand came to her side, rubbing softly.

“I’m fine Breanna-”

“No you’re not,”

Griffin stayed quiet the rest of the ride, not protesting as Stewie held her the entire time.

She definitely didn’t protest when Stewie walked her to her door.

As she locked her door, Griffin tried to not think about how safe Stewie always made her feel, how she always seemed to know what to do to make her feel better, even if it was just offering a quiet comfort or a protective arm around her.

‘Lord, I wish I was gay,’

—

It was their season opener. Barclays Center was humming with activity, the seats filling up as the half-hour countdown was on the screen. 

It was Griffin’s first public outing with the team, and she was buzzing with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t ever played a packed game, she played Paige Bueckers and UConn for pete’s sake!

But being on the court at Barclays, shooting a three point exercise in between Sab and Sloot, realizing that the Chicago Sky was just on the other end of the court, was messing with her head just a little bit.

Griffin didn’t expect to play, she knew she would be coming off the bench no matter what, but she didn’t expect to play until later in the season - if at all. She was a rookie and Coach Sandy was firm that the last thing she wanted was to throw Griffin in the deep end.

That didn’t mean Griffin wasn’t still nervous.

—

The game was … the game was won by the third quarter. 

The Sky had new lineups they were working out and the Liberty was a well oiled machine at this point.

Coach did put in Leonie in the second quarter and the other rookie was exploding, points raining galore. Griffin was trying very hard not to compare herself to the other rookie, reminding herself that Leonie played for the German national team and was two years her senior, but it was still difficult.

Griffin still found herself having a great time, jumping off the bench with the other bench players and cheering everytime Leonie, Sab, or Sloot rattled in a three, JJ or Stewie tipped a ball in or blocked a hard shot.

Stewie even got into it, shooting a wide open three and Griffin swears she winked at her as she ran back across the court.

It was two minutes into the fourth quarter, Liberty were up 80 - 42, and Coach walked down the bench to Griffin.

“Want to get some minutes?” 

Griffin couldn’t believe her ears, she made her way to the scorers table and checked in for Fiebich at the next whistle, finding herself on the court with JJ, Sloot, Sab and Stewie. Stewie was up near the basket, trying to get a rebound from the free throws about to be thrown by the Sky and didn’t see her come on, but Sloot sent her a massive grin and slapped her on the shoulder.

Griffin pretended to not be able to hear the commentators as they talked about “how nice of Coach Sandy, giving the underdog pick from Kentucky a few minutes.”

Griffin swore her ears were burning at the comment.

Like clockwork, the second free throw hit rim and bounced out, basically right into Stewie’s hands. She turned and started running up court when she saw Griffin, who was currently outpacing her defender and making a drive to the basket.

Griffin threw a glance over her shoulder and locked eyes with a grinning Stewie who flung the ball her way.

Griffin put on the speed, keeping her defender a half-stride behind her, and continued her drive straight to the basket.

“And will you look at that, an easy layup for the underdog pick from Kentucky. Griffin gets her first points with the New York Liberty!”

A whistle came, a timeout for the Sky.

Stewie came running over, throwing her arms around the rookie and basically lifting her off her feet.

“First pro points rook! I’m so proud of you!” Griffin couldn’t help giggling and returning the hug, not caring how silly the celebration for a layup was.

Stewie slung an arm around her shoulders on the walk to their bench, where they met a cheering Liberty team and a proud Coach.

“Nice getahead pass Stewie and nice job losing that defender Griffin, I have no notes on that play. Griffin, stay in for the rest of the game, let’s get you some more minutes,”

Griffin swore she had never smiled so big.

And it definitely was not because someone was yet to take their arm away.

—

Sandy, JJ and Stewie walked up onto the podium for the post-game press conference. Griffin had never been at a professional one before, so she and Sabrina had slipped in after the journalists. 

They stood at the very back, trying to go unnoticed.

Questions came from all sides of the floor, nothing too out of the ordinary, until:

“Sandy, you made a very risky choice to draft a 5 ‘2 point guard. A choice that many said and still do say was a waste of a draft pick, especially in such a stacked rookie class. You’ve declined to speak on it so far, but I want to hear what you have to say about that.”

Griffin shifted her weight uncomfortably, suddenly wishing she hadn’t come to watch at all. 

None of the women on the stage knew she and Sab were at the back, and Griffin wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what Sandy would say about her.

To Griffin’s relief, Sandy let out a huff and glared at the reporter.

“I want to clear something up right now, the decision to draft Griffin was in no way a ‘waste of a draft pick’ and I would appreciate it if that narrative was put to rest. Don’t think I didn’t hear the game commentary about how Griffin’s minutes were treated like a charity case. She’s a solid player and a valued member of this team,” Sandy ended her statement in a tone that allowed for no further arguments, as was seen by the silent room.

This is when Stewie chose to lean forward to her mic.

“Are we going to ignore the fact that she dropped 15 points in the, what, eight minutes she was on the floor? I think Griffin’s doing just fine,” 

Griffin tried to ignore the butterflies rising in her chest, she knew she was blushing.

She also tried to ignore the smirk Sabrina sent her way.

Everything was fine, Stewie was just a good friend.

It's not like Griffin was gay or anything!

[yourclumsyguardianangel]

the seven + a few others future headcanons

percy:

becomes a high school teacher

teaches high school marine biology (idk how it is in other schools but when we hit sophomore year we got to choose different bio classes ie: marine bio, ag bio, med bio + regular bio)

also teaches the mythology elective and is the swim team coach

annabeth:

we already know this queen is an architect with obvious inspiration from greek architecture

learns how to make blue food for percy and their kids from sally

has traveled all over the world looking at different architecture

learns the basics of many languages so shes able to communicate with the locals

her and leo team up to build a small school near camp half-blood for year rounders so everyone can learn consistently but dw they get summers off

piper:

love her but shes a nepo baby

she doesnt act like it tho

”are you tristan mcleans daughter?” “who?”

loves her dad to bits but does not like being seen out in public by the paparazzi

marries shel, they dont have kids tho, neither of them want to bring any into the world especially with america’s downfall and the government erasing women and poc rights

is basically leos big sister atp

leo:

him and calypso dont last, maybe a year and a half in they split bc calypso wants to explore the world and leo is very emotionally unstable and calypso has a hard time understanding

they end on good terms but dont ever talk unless its with a group of friends

he goes into a trade to become a mechanic and owns his own shop

starts smoking cigarettes/vaping

his friends dont really approve but they understand he cant quit just yet as hes not in a mental space to do so

goes to therapy with a psychologist whos a demigod that specializes in grieving and war trauma

they all go to therapy but hes the last one to do it

he’s still the ‘happy go lucky’ guy hes always been but as he gets closer w the others they start to see the true sadness in him

piper and him grow a lot closer after jason died and have a big sister little brother relationship

hazel:

my girl stays at camp jupiter

takes nicos place at camp

horse trainer

her and frank also dont work out as a romantic relationship, they felt that the age gap was too much after frank turned 18 and hazel was 15 theyre still friends tho

hazel often visits leo in his shop

as much as leo reminds her of sammy, through therapy she has recognized that theyre separate people and to not push all her past feelings for sammy onto leo

not only does she train horses but she also teaches little kids basic math, science, and history to the younger kids

they all call her ms. hazel

she prefers to teach the really young kids (age 4-7)

wears her hair in different braid styles after BOO

frank:

my friggin HOMIE

i relate to frank a lot personality wise

therefore i think hed be a 4/20 fanatic after BOO

hes not stoned during training or during important camp duties

but otherwise you try talkin to him and you dont really notice until you look and see the far off look and red eyes and he just goes “huh?”

other than that hes a great leader

after he gets his cool new look from mars he takes really good care of his body including consistent exercise and eating really healthily (maybe he has a soft spot for fast food when hes hi)

him joining the military does not make sense to me

he lost his mom to war, and he was in one himself, idk about you but i would not wanna join the military after being the main character in a war

he studies to be a veterinarian for exotic animals

when no one is around he shifts into the animal to find out whats wrong

”dr. zhang prefers to work by himself” “why” “idk but hes always right, if it aint broke dont fix it”

jason:

rip home-slice

nico:

my other homie

my guy does not get taller than 5’8

stays at camp during the summer to train the new and old kids

him and will get a house together

teaches history at the camp school

cat dad (5 cats and counting)

will:

takes nicos last name when they marry bc its cooler

him being a doctor doesnt click w me i more picture him being an EMT

EMTs are hotter anyways

does med training with new apollo kids whenever he gets time

if he’s not busy during working hours he drops by nicos classroom w his fav drink from dutch bros (starbucks is MID) and hangs out with him and his students

[magewritesstories]

[ ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛꜱᴜ ᴋᴀɪꜱᴇɴ ] ᴄᴜᴘɪᴅ'ꜱ ᴄʜᴏᴋᴇʜᴏʟᴅ

summary; they already knew they were in love with you, but in this exact moment, they know they're absolute goners tw; none just fluff (one teeny tiny dig at geto bc i am me) note; just some fluffy blurbs word count; 813 (they're short blurbs) jujutsu kaisen masterlist // main masterlist

SATORU GOJO knows he's a goner when he walks into his apartment and finds you lazing on the couch in fluffy wool stockings and his ugly Christmas sweater.

Your legs hanging from the side of the couch's armrest, swinging them back and forth as you flip through the pages of last month's Vogue edition.

You look ethereal, and you look like you were made to be there.

There in his apartment, in his clothes.

Gojo unties the blindfold across his eyes and practically falls down on top of you. His chin digs slightly into your chest as he looks up at you. "Hi."

You let out a breathless giggle as you go through the magazine onto the coffee table, weaving your hands through his snowy white locks instead. "Hi."

You indulge him, let him stay there for a while before trying to wriggle out of his grip. Gojo just lets out a loud whine, tightening his grasp on your waist.

"C'mon, babe, I've been waiting all day for you to get back so that we could decorate the tree together." You gesture at the carton box filled with ornaments sitting next to the huge Christmas tree in the corner of your living room (Gojo insisted you guys get the biggest one.)

You manage to get out of his grip and walk over to the tree, grabbing the first ornament—a sparkly plastic candy cane.

"Well?" You turn to your boyfriend, "Are you gonna help or not?"

Gojo moves off of the couch, snapping out of his reverie.

It's such a mundane thing—decorating the Christmas tree in preparation for December 25th—still, Gojo feels like his heart is on wings when he watches you get on your tip-toes to place the red ornament in your hand on a higher branch.

He's loving every second of it, standing there next to you as you whine about the fact that you want to be the one to place the tree topper on top of the Christmas tree (even though he's taller and it would be much easier for him to do it) he thinks he could do this for the rest of his life.

The mundane things, that is.

Yeah, Gojo thinks as he watches you, he's definitely a goner.

SUGURU GETO thought that the word tired was an understatement of how he was feeling. He could still feel the ache in his bones as he begrudgingly got out of bed.

He'd gotten home late from the mission last night (around 1 AM) and to be very honest, he was still tired.

But the sound of Nanako and Mimiko's giggling, accompanied by your soft laughter was enough motivation to drag him out of bed.

A small chill runs over his spine as he slips on a sweater that was strewn on the designated clothes chair in the corner of your room, and he makes his way into the kitchen.

Nanako and Mimiko are sitting at the breakfast counter, legs dangling off the stools, with open (blank) notebooks in front of them.

You're standing behind the breakfast counter, bowl of pancake batter resting on your hip as you point to something in Mimiko's textbook.

"No, you have to multiply first, even if the addition is written first," You instruct, grabbing an extra pencil as you quickly jot something down in Mimiko's notebook, "Like this."

The girl nods and does (presumably) a different exercise before turning the notebook to you with a proud smile. You ruffle her hair as you praise her for doing the exercise correctly.

"What's going on here?" Geto questions, making his presence known as he rounds the breakfast counter to place a quick kiss on your temple.

"Nothing much—I think our daughter might be the next Einstein," You reply, softly pinching Mimiko's cheek.

Geto lets out a loud laugh, "Yeah? What about you Nanako?"

The blonde girl huffs as she puts down her pencil in frustration. "I don't need to be Einstein," The girl replies haughtily, "I'm gonna be an actress."

You and Geto share a look at the proclamation. "Are you?" You ask teasingly, "Well, don't forget us when you're all famous, okay?"

"I would never!" Nanako replies, making both of you laugh.

"Well, we can achieve those dreams later," Geto comments, "How about we have breakfast first?"

You poke his cheek slightly. "You're the only one that still needs to have breakfast, we ate hours ago."

"Mom's right, Dad," Mimiko comments, and Nanako quickly adds, "You're lazy—we've been up for hours."

The words warm Geto's heart a little. "Is that so?" He asks, only get a hum of confirmation in reply.

He takes a seat next to Mimiko and watches as you dance around the kitchen making breakfast. The sight makes him want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

You're so perfect, Geto thinks to himself, what would he do without you?

(*cough* turn into a genocidal maniac *cough*)