#I mean yes I know what the event is here but still. interesting. fuels some AobPuen ideas.

[nerdy-simp-7120]

hi! if you're comfortable writing this, could i ask for a scenario? this has been in the back of my head for a while.

what would be the reaction of the brothers + dateables of watching mc play resident evil in the dimitrescu castle? who would be down bad the most

thank you! feel free to ignore this if you don't want to write this ofc

I love this ask (stan tall vampire lady). The only thing is that I accidentally turned it into a “how they feel about the game.” I managed to add in some parts with MC playing as well to make up for it

Update: I literally finished the request yesterday but my wifi went down and I lost everything  😩 😩

I also wrote this in the middle of the night so sorry if there are any errors! Enjoy!

Warnings: cursing.

How the OM! characters would react to you playing Resident Evil (Dimitrescu Castle edition)

Lucifer

Will not care at first

"I hold no interest in such trivial simulations."

His weakness? Being a simp for you.

He decides to look into the game a bit more in private later on.

Will lowkey practice the game

If you ever catch him playing it, do not say anything because he will stop immediately, deny everything, and might not ever do it again

With time, however, Lucifer will come to master the game.

Here comes the showing off.

When you're rambling about the game with Levi, Lucifer will join the conversation and you two will be like "wow, boomer knows something for once--"

Or when you're struggling on a part of the game he will be like, "hand it over"

Before expertly getting through that part.

Can defeat Lady Dimitrescu if you ask him to but be careful cause he might make you beg

sadistic bastard

or you can be a badass and show him your skills

Will be a tad shocked at how easily you handled it but won't let it show (okay Elsa)

Also proud though

Lucifer's internal monologue: “That’s right- show them how it’s done, Y/n.”

Mammon

Scared.

Will watch you play and cover his eyes during every battle

"wHAT IS THAT?!" at everything you come across

I hope you're good at playing one-handed because you'll have to use the other hand to hold his throughout the entire thing

Admires you're bravery but would never admit it

"You were horrible! ...N-nice job beating the game, not that I c-care or anything. You sucked anyways!"

Not even 10 seconds later...

"Can I watch you play again?"

Comes to find that the faces you make are adorable: when you're concentrating on a battle, when you win, find a valuable item, etc

He loves being able to see how you're feeling up close.

If you catch him staring when you take a break or something he'll blush and either ask you if you have a staring problem or that you have something on your face

He may or may not buy cheap merch (a tiny key chain of Lady Dimitrescu or your favorite character) for you, all the while spewing lame excuses

Please bear with him- he's trying.

Leviathan

"YOU ALSO LIKE RESIDENT DEVIL?!?? Ah! I-I mean..."

Congrats, you just found yourself someone to discuss the game with

Is open to cosplay the characters with you

You two will have competitions to see who can beat the game faster.

You both also share theories with each other all the time

Or simply discuss the characters together

He purposefully stays quiet to hear you ramble on and on- dude finds it adorable

You two also sometimes argue debate over a character name or event in the game

Because while you have Resident Evil

He only knows Resident Devil

This is the equivalent of Devilgram and Instagram

I mean

They’re the same,

But a couple things were altered, y’know, to prevent copyright

So yes, there are definitely a few quarrels here and there

But all in all, it’s a fun gamer bud experience

Don’t tell him I told you but he thinks it’s hot when you show off your badass skills in a boss fight

Satan

He plays it on the lowkey.

Not because he’s embarrassed

But because he partially takes his anger out on the characters

During gory scenes, he imagines it’s him torturing Lucifer, fueling his determination to win

A calculated person, Satan is a smart player

But there are times when he’s particularly angry and he becomes a reckless one, jumping into fights impetuously

This is where you come in and beat the enemy for him

He may get angrier, thinking you are underestimating him

But, for the sake of the person he loves, he calms down knowing you didn’t mean to offend him

A small part in the back of his head also admires you for being able to handle the fight a ton better than he did

Congratulations, you just earned yourself the great Satan’s respect (resident evil-wise).

Asmodeus

“Oh my, I never knew you were into such gory games! Does this mean you’re into blood play, because I know many things about--”

He may look carefree on the outside

But on the inside?

Let’s take a look, shall we?

Holy shit

What the fu--

Jesus christ, can you pull a move like that in real life?

He needs to be careful to not piss you off.

If you can handle this, who knows what you could be capable of?

Hold on.

Wait, you look so concentrated

Eeep! How cute!

Anyways, it ends with him snapping a bunch of pictures 

Keeps them for himself and may brag to his brothers about how he got some “special” shots of you

Obviously never elaborates on what the special part means to keep his dear siblings on edge because, what the hell, they want to know what these special shots are

Would not play the game because there’s “tOo MuCh BlOoDsHeD”

We all know he’s most likely seen his fair share of bloodshed

“What if the adrenaline gives me acne?”

He’s probably just bad at the game--

Verdict: Asmo is a simp and not afraid to flaunt it.

Beel

...Are you okay?

Do you think about homicide--?

Oh, that lady looks nice.

Huh, she’s 9′6″??

What’s her name? Lady Dimitrescu?

Okay-- WAIT WHY IS SHE TURNING INTO THAT??

Not scared, just a tad bit concerned 

Poor Beel, concerned for Lady D :’)

Also, seeing the death’s of Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra hit different

Because he know what it’s like to lose a sibling.

Safe to say he understands Alcina’s pain when she raged about her children being dead.

Also concerned about how the gore could affect you

Because isn’t stuff like this supposed to traumatize humans?

Would support you regardless though

And thinks that you’re really brave for playing the game and still being able to stand strong

On another note, Beel decided to make small flower graves for the three sisters and Alcina because he’s adorable and kind like that

Belphegor

Likes the game but is too lazy to play himself

Regularly watches Satan play (or at least as much as he can before deciding it’s nap time)

I hope you enjoy Belphie using you as a body pillow and watching you play from now on 

Makes small comments here and there to help you out

“To your left... Oh, and open the window- yeah, that one.”

Will smirk, impressed, when you deal with the fights and win yourself without his comments.

“That’s my Y/n”

(Sorry I don’t know what else to put for him :’))

Diavolo

“Is this a human trend?” meme

Will watch excitedly and “oooo” whenever you do something cool

Be careful though, because the questions will not stop as you play

“What’s that? I see. What’s it for? How do you win the game? Who’s that character? Why can’t you do this? What about--?”

Diavolo, you’re awesome and all, but please

shush

On the inside, is also one that might be a tad concerned about your mental health because doesn’t that gore traumatize humans?

Wait, you do this for entertainment?

...

Another warning: he will shower you in merchandise from the game

I am not above the fact that this man has a game room 

And he will try to master the game

Casually pushes all his paperwork over to Lucifer so he can play Resident Evil

RIP Luci

Unfortunately, Diavolo will have trouble grasping the game and how it works

You will have to explain many things to him

Good luck- he’s a bit of a boomer (but willing to learn) and may or may not get distracted staring at you

But anyways, he enjoys engaging in the competitions you and Levi have

Whether it be playing as well or simply watching

He just loves to see you happy

Barbatos

Oh my, what’s this?

Will watch you play

and constantly criticize how filthy the Dimitrescu castle is

“Do they have any idea how many rats this can attract?”

Barbatos, your weakness is showing.

Seeing you so happy while playing the game helps him relax from his daily troubles tasks

He rewards you with a pat on the head any time you beat a foe

When Diavolo goes over to the HoL or when you come over to play in he silently cheers you on in the background.

Solomon

Yuh

Is educated on the game and knows his shit as the only other human 

Maybe knows a bit too much of the game

You will later come to find out that, somewhere in his mass tangle of shady connections, he knows a developer

Might give you tips and tricks to get on higher levels

But never, and I mean never, challenge him like you would with Levi to see who can beat the game faster

Because he will beat you by a seconds on purpose, just to piss you of

all the while doing that dark, shady chuckle

Asshole

But anyways, if you manage to finesse and beat him, he will be 

So confused

“I thought I did it all right, what went wrong...?” he thinks to himself.

On the outside, however, he’s smiling

Will hand over some praise to his little apprentice, but if you look carefully you will see a spark of annoyance

We get it Solomon, you’re a sore loser.

In the end, he will still leave somewhat impressed at your skillz

Simeon

w h a t

Is a little scared

“Is this one of them video games you kids play nowadays...? Just kidding. What are you playing-- oh my”

Might try to figure out how to play

But alas, 

Simeon is yet another boomer

So he will have quite some trouble even figuring out how to move

And why does he hold the controller like that what

If you’ve seen that one picture of him holding his phone sideways you know what I mean

On another note, if you look through his poem book, then you may or may not find a few poems describing how amazing and badass you looked hustling the entire game

Luke

about to bomb this master hill

No literally is considering bombing the computer or whatever you’re playing on because wHAT IS THAT

He is just

So 

So 

Scared

This will give him nightmares for weeks

Apparently Alcina reminds him of Lucifer so he kinda

Hates her

Says he will protect you

--as he runs out of the room in fear

Irrelevant but the one he hates the most is fetus baby

Michael have mercy on this poor boy--

[fluffbyday-smutbynight]

Way Too Deep (TAB rewatch)

Going back to The Abominable Bride? What is this madness?

Do not fear, I won't even dwell on the hidden meanings of the whole parallel reality set in 1895. Instead, this will be the beginning of my modest attempt (read: slightly disfunctional coping method) at making some sort of sense out of S4. I could read all the meta, and agree with it even, but at the end of the day I just have to take the raw data and digest it on my own.

Why start from TAB? If I recall correctly, it wasn't originally conceived as a bridge between the two seasons – and yet, it has such a peculiar structure that I can't justify it being just a coincidence. If you will, I'll look at the frame rather than the picture.

TL; DR: what if Sherlock overdosed on the tarmac plane... and never came back?

So, let's begin well into the third act (1 hour or so into the episode):

MORIARTY: Because it’s not the fall that kills you, Sherlock. Of all people, you should know that. It’s not the fall. It’s never the fall...It’s the landing.

Sherlock wakes up on the plane and the narrative trick gets exposed: the Victorian adventures were a creation of Sherlock's drug-fueled mind.

Sherlock's usage is not exactly news to us - hello, heartbroken Shezza in a crack den - but this time it feels different. It's not just escapism or the siren's call of addiction; he doesn't look high, not even to John Watson MD, which by the way has already seen him under the effect. This is the very intentional treading the fine line between sanity and delirium, between life and death:

JOHN: For God’s sake! This could kill you! You could die!

SHERLOCK: Controlled usage is not usually fatal, and abstinence is not immortality.

...all for the sake of "solving a case" or, should we put it in plain words, going deep and deeper into his own mind.

Strap yourselves in, 'cause we're going for a ride. From this moment on, we'll bounce back and forth between reality and hallucination, the two separated by a boundary so unstable that we won't even see it.

Notice how heavily drugged-Sherlock sounds fairly coherent so far – and yet, when Mycroft speaks:

MYCROFT: A week in a prison cell. I should have realised [...] that in your case, solitary confinement is locking you up with your worst enemy.

...his mind palace fabrication unexpectedly bleeds into reality:

JOHN (offscreen): Morphine or cocaine?

SHERLOCK: What did you say?

JOHN: I didn’t say anything.

SHERLOCK: No, you did. You said ...

(As he says the next sentence, it’s Sherlock’s lips moving but we hear John’s voice.)

SHERLOCK/JOHN: Which is it today – morphine or cocaine?

What did spur this abrupt transition? What is Sherlock's worst enemy? Himself, his addiction or... Moriarty, though a figment of his imagination, trapped in his mind palace?

Victorian Sherlock goes on with his investigation, which ends with the crypt scene. Sudden plot twist: under the bride's veil there's not Mrs. Carmichael, but... Moriarty again.

MORIARTY: Is this silly enough for you yet? Gothic enough? Mad enough, even for you? It doesn’t make sense, Sherlock, because it’s not real. None of it. [...] This is all in your mind. [...] You’re dreaming.

Cue another transition to a hospital room, which looks just a bit surreal. What's up with the red blanket and the carpeted floor? Why is Sherlock just lying there in his suit?

Doesn't look very much like an overdose intervention... because it isn't. This is not reality.

In fact, Sherlock goes on all jolly to unbury Emelia's corpse (let me be pedant: just like a recent overdose patient should do), and we're given a couple lines that reinforce how much of a pressing matter all this is to him:

SHERLOCK: It’s why we came here! I need to know.

JOHN (turning away): Spoken like an addict.

SHERLOCK (straightening up to look at him): This is important to me!

Sherlock and Lestrade dig, Mycroft supervises (lazy sod, eheh), until the casket is unearthed – pay attention to what Mycroft says here:

MYCROFT: We do have slightly more pressing matters to hand, little brother. Moriarty, back from the dead?

And yes, immediately after Moriarty is mentioned, another turn into surreality takes place; the skeleton moves on its own, a spectral voice calls, and Sherlock is back to his mind palace.

VOICE (rhythmically, as if reciting lyrics to a song): Do not forget me.

... and Holmes starts violently and wakes up to find himself lying on his side on a narrow rocky ledge. Water is pouring over him as if it is raining heavily.

HOLMES : Oh, I see. Still not awake, am I?

"Still not awake" - what a peculiar choice of words. The line between reality and hallucination is feeble because it's not there; the plane, the hospital, the cemetery? All fabrications of his own mind.

Look, even Moriarty must be tired of beating around the bush, 'cause he doesn't talk in riddles anymore. He just lays it out:

MORIARTY: Too deep, Sherlock. Way too deep. Congratulations. You’ll be the first man in history to be buried in his own Mind Palace.

MORIARTY: I am your WEAKNESS!

MORIARTY: I keep you DOWN!

MORIARTY: Every time you STUMBLE, every time you FAIL, when you’re WEAK...

MORIARTY: I... AM... THERE!

MORIARTY: No. Don’t try to fight it. LIE BACK AND LOSE!

So, not only Sherlock has gone deep into his mind palace, he never got out of it and he literally can't.

John coming to the rescue must represent Sherlock finally waking up... or does it?

WATSON: So, how do you plan to wake up?

HOLMES: Between you and me, John, I always survive a fall.

In fact, Sherlock jumps and falls deeper down and while we're told he always survives the fall, we're never told about the landing. We're circling back to what Moriarty said.

At this point, is Sherlock waking up on the plane again even real? Do overdosed people just wake up like that, and go on with their day like nothing's happened?

Furthermore, if Sherlock really woke up on the plane, this should be where the episode ends.

Why, instead, go back again to 1895?

HOLMES: It was simply my conjecture of what a future world might look like, and how you and I might fit inside it.

HOLMES: From a drop of water, a logician should be able to infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara.

Where is this happening? What's the "Atlantic" (or Niagara, or Reichenbach) we should be able to infer?

The structure of TAB – the back and forth between past and present, fiction and reality - reminded me of this zen koan:

"Once upon a time, I, Zhuangzi, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Zhuangzi. Soon I awakened, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man. Between a man and a butterfly there is necessarily a distinction. The transition is called the transformation of material things."

As you may know, a koan is a paradox: for instance, you can't be both man and butterfly, but at the same time you can't be definitively sure about one or the other. This is where we're left at the end of the episode – hanging on the doubt that what we've seen so far has been imagination disguised as reality: Sherlock can't be both in present time (having woken up on the plane) and in the Victorian setting we've just seen.

So we should infer that he is still stuck in his mind palace, and his hallucination is not only about the 1895 timeline, but comprises all the scenes set in present time, too -"It was simply my conjecture of what a future world might look like"; also, he might have overindulged with his drugs, to the point of never coming back to consciousness.

WATSON: As for your own tale, are you sure it’s still just a seven percent solution that you take? I think you may have increased the dosage.

Notice how the overdosing incident will never be mentioned again, which makes sense if we assume that it's a point stuck in time with no foreseeable resolution – an idea which is supported by Mycroft's notebook, in the form of the Minkowski Metric we can see there:

a formula referring to special relativity, more specifically "the spacetime interval between any two events is independent of the inertial frame of reference in which they are recorded" (x)

All this, in the perspective of interpreting S4, makes for an interesting premise... but we'll look into it another time.

_____

Dialogue transcript source: Ariane DeVere

[lurking96]

Bakugou and Consequences

The following is an opinion. As you can see from my blog I am not Bakugou friendly. I tagged it as such and put it under a cut. It deals with my opinion on Bakugou and Consequences.

Bakugou Katsuki is certainly a character. An ego driven bully for years told to be the rival of the main character by other characters. Someone that gladly beats the main character up and does want to see them dead on occasion. Telling them to jump or pulling the trigger himself. Now what would be the consequences of such actions. What does Canon and also Fanon do to adress those things. Lets start with a type of consequences I am not really all that into. Karmic Consequences. The Universe or some outside force pushing a punishment in the bad guys path. Anything that really seems outside of law or mortal works. Enter the sludge villain. Probably a Karmic punishment for the swan dive comment. Now here is the thing. Does the sludge villain know what Bakugou said? Did the sludge villain attack him thanks to the comment? Did Bakugou learn that he got attacked for his comment? To those things a big no. As a punishment or consequence it lacks the aspect of teaching the person what they did was wrong and that they should not keep acting like this. It is simply just a bad thing happened but it is not a consequence of action. It doesnt have a teaching moment. It should also be noted that before Bakugou the sludge villain attacked Midoriya. What did Midoriya do to deserve this? Well simply existing seems to be a sin enough. Now we have UA. On the first day. Infront of Eraserhead. The teacher that expells whole classes for lacking potential. He attacks another student infront of him. Of course he gets stopped. For once a teacher steps in. The thing is. There is seemingly no detention, no black mark, it´s the first day. Suspension or expelling could be a valid thing happening after that. But nothing. Like there clearly seems to be a history. But it gets explained away as rivalry. Even though it looks unhealthy. Then we have the next heroics class. Yes. All Might just started being a teacher. But he is still the number 1 hero. He should have some understanding of things. Bakugou saying “He won’t die if he dodges” is certainly a problem. There is a desire to kill. But it doesn’t get acted upon. Yeah maybe a stern talking but thats about it. All Might is Midoriyas mentor but there didn’t seem to be a care. OFA could have died right there and looking at current events that would have been catastrophic. Next we have the sports festival. Generally a turning point in the narrative. Before Bakugou got a bit more called out. And while Bakugou didn’t get a win like how he wanted he did get wins. He got the oh so great Vs. Uraraka fight out of it and beat up Todoroki while knowing why he wasn’t using his fire. In the end he got tied up. Was this a good consequence. Not really. Could have just said he doesnt need to be at the medal ceremony. Could have claimed health reasons to the press. Still he beat up Todoroki after the fight had ended and that didn’t get explored. The teachers didnt think to look deeper into that. The internships come. He hardly appears. Best Jeanist is at least trying to get some form of morality through his thick head. The final exams. He should have been disqualified or automatically loose. He punched a teammate. Imagine a pro hero punching another one on a mission. That could get people killed. Won’t say much more. The teachers again did not try to get a reason for that or punish him for it. If he were in extra classes he wouldn’t be in the forest for Compress to grab.Simple. Speaking off. He does end up getting kidnapped. Not randomly but because the villains saw something in him. A villain in the making. A possible ally. While it can be seen as a consequence on how he acted at the sports festival it does not get explored. He doesnt get called out and made to stick to him. You have the teachers even claim how great of a hero he will be. Which they shot themself in the foot with. UA is already under scrutiny so if they can’t make the now claimed future great hero into something they will loose face. Meaning also can’t really openly punish him as they claimed he is great. It doesn’t really get thought about why the villains saw something in him by the heroes. It gets brushed over. No follow up. No looking into it. No teaching experience. Here comes the license exam. The Majority of the class follow Midoriya. Kirishima looks after Bakugou and Kaminari follows to not be alone. Surprise. Bakugou doesn’t get his license. He gets punished with remedial classes. Sadly. So do Todoroki and Inasa. Bakugou doesn’t get punished alone. Someone else needs to be there too. Bakugou also doesnt look into why he didnt get the license in the first place. He doesnt really learn. Oh wait. He gets that one scene where he says not to look down on others to a child but afterwards still looks down on others. We get Deku Vs. Kachan 2. And I really dislike that thing. Yes. Bakugou gets punished. But so does Izuku for simply self defending. Bakugou even gets some rewards out of it. He gets a nice talk with All Might where the retired hero coddles and tries to cheer him up. He gets to know about OFA and even included in the talks. Talks that should probably contain Nezu and Gran Torino too. They would have useful input. And thanks to his house arrest. He doesn’t meet the Big 3. Of course UA has third years that are stronger and more experienced. Bakugou would not win a fight against them. There would not be a logical explanation for that and it would be a deus ex/plot armor/asspull on the authors part. And that would be interesting. Mirio Togata fights the class. And while he certainly does flash them he doesnt have a flashy straightforward quirk. His quirk took time to figure out. It is not likie Bakugous quirk. And this might have thought him a lesson. Might have thought him that such “weak” non flashy quirks can beat him. That he is not the king of the jungle gym like back in elementary school. Losing would help him grow. To grow he needs to be cut down first. It would develope him and not be the turn on/turn off personality changes he got now. To me Canon didn’t do well with consequence. Didn’t do well with teaching him that his actions are wrong. That he needs to change and develope. Either they just get deflected like teflon, others get dragged down, or he gets a reward out of it. Fanon. I do like the Bakugou faces consequences tag on Ao3. Sadly there are some that generally just give him a slap on the wrist too. A stern talking and then maybe some anger therapy. Izuku hardly getting therapy too. Some move him into 1B but that might just be a punishment to 1B. Maybe expell or suspend. Move him fully out of the hero course. Make him transfer schools. All logical things that should happen. You shouldn’t overpunish someone but a good punishment is one that explains why it happens. Why what the person did was wrong. An appropriate one that helps the person to grow and get better. Not fuel the hate or reason in them or leave them dry after it is done. This again is an opinion. I do not claim it to be a complete fact.

[asterroidd]

sho the todorki

↬ pairing: shouto todoroki x reader

↬ synopsis: you like him, he likes you. the problem? sho's in the friend zone and so it's up to mina, the resident match maker, and company to give you guys a lil push.

alternatively: sho being a dork, hence the title

↬ warning/s: profanity lol, a lot of second hand embarrassment, two insufferable idiots, idk if this is too ooc of shouto but just take this dorky version of him

↬ note: a fic dedicated to @puredivinity​ that serves as a welcome gift for joining the sho simp club. luv u mara despite all the cursed images i send

    Class 3-A has four unspoken rules:

    Number one: never play music out loud beyond 8 pm (tried and tested by Denki himself, got blown up by Bakugo)

    Number two: don't leave your room at 2 am or a certain grape pervert would harass you

    Number three: refrain from mentioning crocs to Kirishima. Just don’t.

    And number four: never tell you or Shouto that both of you like each other (just for the sake of entertainment)

    It had become customary to not break these four rules or those who dare break it is rumored to have a thousand year duration of bad luck to be passed down generation after generation.

    That said, Mina was fed up with the mutual pining you and Shouto clearly exhibit. For two years she watched both of you shy and fluster with one another. His face beet red while you a fumbling mess. Truly a sight to behold. It was like watching a romance movie in real time, but without the stupid opening track. 

    At first she thought it was cute, it all started one morning during her first year in U.A. You forgot your jacket that day after waking up late and thus have to rush to get on time. Aizawa would have your head if you weren't there in homeroom. So in your idiocy and frantic state, you forgot most of the essential stuff and that includes, of course, a warm jacket.

    Mina watched as Shouto stared at you from across the room.  With tense shoulders as his gaze constantly drift from your form to his jacket. Her mouth curled upwards, interested with the current situation. It was not every day one could see the infamous Todoroki Shouto so nervous.

    She eagerly kept her attention on him, watching as Shouto got up from his seat and slowly made his way to you with shaky legs. Shouto, barely uttering a word, shoved his jacket to you and rushed back to his seat. At that moment, Mina already knew something was blossoming between you and him.

    And so it basically became her life mission to make sure you and Shouto end up with one another. She made the promise two years ago, and yet here you both were, two dorks that has a crush on each other but couldn't confess even if the world ends that very moment.

    Was it difficult to watch? Yes.

   It took all of Mina's entire being to not push his head into yours. She knows the consequences if one breaks the fourth rule. Two years had already pass and graduation is around the corner, she refuses to accept that both of you aren't a couple. As Class 3-A's resident cupid and match maker, she is more than determined to make sure you and him both end up together. Mina would not be inherently breaking rule number four, just gonna give you guys a lil' push with the help of a friend. And that friend is one that possesses an electrification quirk.

    "Okay, what do we tell (____) tomorrow?" Denki asked.

    Shouto looked over his written notes one last time before nodding and giving his answer, "I'll ask them if they want to have coffee."

    "Good! Make sure to?"

    "I'll make sure to keep eye contact and. . ." he halted, going over his notes once more. "And make sure that I'm smiling."

    Denki flashed him a grin. Clasping a hand around his shoulder and lightly patting it afterwards. "Now, don't forget the lesson I've taught you today. It is important that your date goes smoothly with (____)."

    Shouto eagerly nodded, stars dancing in his eyes. His heart clamored inside his chest, beating in a quick tempo comparable to that of allegro. Sweat accumulated on his palm, in which Shouto then hastily wiped it on his shirt. Despite nervousness bubbling inside his stomach, Shouto admits that he is excited to ask you out.  "Do you really think (____) and I would be a great couple?"

    "Of course, dude! Right, Mina?" Denki turned to his friend. She gave him two thumbs-up, giving fuel to Shouto's confidence for tomorrow's event.

    Now that Denki is done giving him an hour-long lesson about asking you out and things to do in a date, Mina was sure everything would go smooth as butter. Like, what could go wrong? Despite Shouto being a dork and foreign to the concept of love, he still has that natural charm that had some swooning for him.

    Though, she spoke all too soon.

    Mina facepalmed, dragging her palm across her face as Shouto stood frozen before you. She and Denki should've seen this coming.

    "(____)," he started, his voice cracking at the end. Suddenly the discoloration and grime in between the cracks of the wall looks interesting. He kept looking everywhere but you.

    You tilted your head to the side, "What's up, Sho?"

    Heavens above, Shouto loves that nickname.

    The male fiddles with the ends of his shirt, his tongue twisting and throat closing which makes it hard to speak. After class had ended, Shouto came up to you asking if he could talk to you somewhere private. He led you to the area behind the gym where no students are on sight. Well, that is except for Mina and Denki who closely followed behind to make sure Shouto wouldn't mess up his chance. The two stayed low, making sure they are well hidden behind the bush nearby.

   This was now the moment; the perfect chance for Shouto to ask you out after practicing his lines over and over again. It was a simple question: ‘Do you want to have coffee with me this weekend if you are free?”

   Should be easy enough right?

    "I- well- uhh. . ." he scratched the area behind his ear. "D-do you maybe want to free?"

    Shouto paled, he'd done messed up.

    "Wait that's wrong—" he took a deep breath. "Are you coffee this weekend?"

    Really? Really Shouto?

    "Shit— wait! Coffee this free??"

    Can someone take this lost child away?

    Denki bit his inner cheek, hands tugging his hair from second hand embarrassment. He had fate on him; had fate that Shouto had rehearsed enough the night before in asking you out. Guess he was wrong.

    "What do you mean by that?" you voiced out. You were beyond puzzled, unsure what to make of the situation. First he asks to speak with you in private, now he's a stuttering mess. Could it be that he's confessing? Asking you out?

    Your heart quickened at the thought. You were ready to say 'yes'.

    "What I mean is uhh. . ." Shouto wished he has his written notes. "Are you weekend for this coffee?"

    "YES!!" you shout without thinking.

    Wait, what? Hold up.

    "Aight, I'm forcing these two to kiss each other." Mina announced. That’s it. She lost hope for the both of you. You and Shouto need professional help. She adjusted her position, ready to get up and intervene. That is until Denki lay a heavy hand on her shoulder.

    "Wait," he motioned his head to you. Mina huffed, sitting down once more.

    "Sho. . ." you start, a soft smile on your face.

    "Y-yes?" damn, Shouto is such a stuttering mess.

    "Do you want to grab a coffee this weekend? I mean, if you are free?"

    He blinked, your words slowly being registered in his brain. There was a buffer, like an old computer processing 10 kilobyte worth of data. His brain was stuck on 78% in the progress bar. Then, it dawned on him; the cogs and gears turning. It took a full minute for Shouto to understand. "I-. . .I’d love to!" he managed to stutter out.

    Welp, at least that did the job. Denki and Mina released a sigh of relief. High-fiving each other despite the obvious fact that Shouto failed his task.

    But hey, beggars can't be choosers. All's well, ends well.

    You can't believe it.

    You have a date with Shouto. THE Todoroki Shouto. The guy you've had a crush on since your first year in UA. The one that swept you right off your feet the moment you laid your eyes on him. The friend that always had your back. With him struggling to ask you earlier, could it mean that he likes you more than a friend?

    You let out a squeal, pressing the pillow flush against your chest. In total, you've replayed the scene from memory for over fifty times already. You couldn't even concentrate in doing your homework. So you thought instead of doing your responsibilities, you opted to celebrate by screaming and running around your room in glee.

   It wasn't everyday you'd get a douse of serotonin.

   You’ve waited for this day since forever. Day dreaming about Shouto being your significant other; holding hands with him, wrapping your arms around his torso, and kissing his lips.

   The thought brought forth another pterodactyl squeal from you.

   Oh gods, what would you wear? Should it be casual? Semi-formal? Formal?

   A wedding dress??

   No one told you a date was this stressful. You groaned, prying opening your wardrobe cabinet to quickly plan out an outfit. You can’t afford to look stupid and, dare you say, cheap when you’re on a date with the most sought after male in UA.

   Meanwhile, Shouto is also panicking.

   “Look man, you messed up once but that’s okay!” Denki cheered him up. “Experience is the best teacher.”

   “I know but. . .” Shouto took one deep breath, burying his face in his hands. “I-. . .I just froze up the moment I was in front of them.”

   “And that’s normal!”

   The moment you and Shouto parted ways, the male immediately went to Denki for some follow up consultation. Sure, he can fight villains face-to-face without batting an eye. Could freeze half of his enemies without a drop of sweat. Unleash an inferno of fire to defeat his oponent. Tolerate a bunch of fans shoving cameras up his face to get a close-up picture.

   But Todoroki Shouto, for the love of god, couldn’t ask you out without freezing in place and become a stuttering mess.

   “Lighten up man!” Denki nudged his shoulder. “Unleash the tiger inside you.”

   “But I don’t have a tiger inside me. That would be anatomically incorrect.”

   “Look—that’s not the—. . .what I mean is—uhh. . .nevermind. . .” the blond struggled with his words. He had to be careful with what advice he throw at Shouto. That man takes things way too literately. “What I mean is, toughen up. Have confidence on yourself. You’ll have (____) falling for you before you knew it.”

   Which will be easy since (____) is a simp for him, Denki thought.

   Shouto raised his fist then clenched it, determination washing over him. He gave one brief nod to his mentor (that is the personification of Pikachu).

   He can do it. Todoroki Shouto could do it.

   He’d go over his lines a thousand times before the date. He’d make sure he is 110% prepared before the weekend. Denki had made a dent in his schedule just to tutor him how to make you fall in love with him. Shouto wouldn’t let this go to waste.

   Yes, this man is prepared and is on a mission he couldn't possibly fail.

   Scratch that, Shouto’s a mess.

   He pulled the end of his sleeves, his legs bouncing up and down. The male bit the inside of his cheeks, was the weather hot or was it just his insides burning up. Shouto couldn’t sleep the night before, his mind kept him up. It was like 17 browser tabs are open, with three of them frozen, and he doesn’t know where the music is coming from.

   Due to the jitters getting the best of him, Shouto arrived at the agreed destination. . .two hours earlier than what was expected.

   Which wasn’t a problem anyway, since you did the same.

   You huffed, doubling over and placing your hands on your knees. You had ran from your house all the way to the cafe just to make sure you weren't late this time. In attempts to catch your breath, you’ve failed to notice your date standing just a few feet away from you. The minute Shouto laid his eyes on you, fire sparked deep within his heart. Someone pinch him and tell this wasn’t a dream.

   “(____),” he walked close to which startled you.

   “Sho! You-. . . you’re early!”

   “So are you. . .”

   Then silence fell between both of you. Talk about awkward. Who’s idea was it to get these two idiots in a date? If anything, both of you should’ve just left it on mutual pining and save it as a story for the grandchildren.

   Shouto cleared his throat, hands scratching the back of his neck. “Well, since we’re both early. Why won’t we enter the café?”

   You nodded, your voice box failing you. Inwardly, you were screaming your heart out. The embarrassment was just too much for you to handle. You doubt that Shouto would want a second date at this point.

   And so you lagged behind him, keeping a feet distance away from the male. You have a hard time looking at him without making a mess for yourself. Blood rushing your cheeks, it was hard to ignore the butterflies fluttering inside your stomach.

   The café was quite small. A handful of potted plants hung outside, the store’s name written in calligraphy, and a few customers visible from the window. The establishment was newly built, Ochako introduced it to you about a week ago. The cheesecake they sell is to die for—it was definitely worth the hefty price.

   A small chime went off as Shouto opened the door. Then it hit you; the strong smell of coffee. You were not a big fan of the beverage, but you’ve got to admit that the scent was pleasant. Without prior warning, Shouto lightly held your hand in his. His thumb gliding over the back of your hand a few times. You took in a sharp inhale, eyes widening at his gesture.

   This is what they do in dates right? Shouto recalled his notes.

   So this is like a DATE date?? Not a friendly date? Somebody pinch me right now, you thought.

   “We should find a table,” he spoke, eyes refusing to make contact with yours. You’ve managed to stutter out an agreement, too occupied with the feeling of his hands. It was so warm—just the way you imagined it throughout the years.

   You could finally die now in peace. Goodbye cruel world.

   Soon enough, you and he are situated on a table near the window. Neither of you dare start a conversation, because god forbid another awkward interaction. Years worth of watching romance series could have never prepared you for such an instance. You wished you should’ve consulted some of your classmates—especially those who have experience in the topic of dating—before coming here yourself. You could try and message them, but you wondered if it would be rude to pull out your phone and ignore Shouto. No, you wouldn’t take the chance.

   “Uh- So how are you, (____)?” he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

   “Oh, uhhh—. . .” how does one even speak again? “I’m doing well, I guess. . .?”

   That was lame, (____). Lame.

   “How about you?”

   Shouto was silent, you figured he didn’t hear you so you repeated yourself once again. All the while not looking at his direction. It would be better if you don’t see his face or you’ll turn into a puddle of mess.

   But seconds seem to drag to minutes, and that got you concerned.

   “Sho—“ you cut yourself short, realizing that he was staring at you with a lovestruck expression. He looks at you rather softly, like how one would look at a small pet one happens to cross by while walking. The way Shouto kept his gaze at you made you insecure. Was there something on your face? Hair? Shirt? Oh gods, did you smell?

   You wished that, right then and there, the earth would swallow you whole.

   “Sorry I was just. . .” he faltered in his sentence, gulping down his saliva. Shouto then turned his head to the side, a blush ever so present on his cheeks as well as the tips of his ears.

   "Sorry, you're just—just so cute in that outfit that I can’t help but stare."

   His voice was quiet, barely a whisper but you heard it, ironically, loud and clear. Your hand found its way on your mouth, blood rushing to your cheeks as a result of his compliment.

   “Tha-thank you. . .” you’ve managed to croak out, looking down and fiddling with your nails.

   Just. WOW. You can’t believe it. Never once did Shouto commented on your appearance throughout the duration of your friendship with him. What he did was just. . .just so unexpected from him. You find it hard to believe yourself.

   All these years, you’ve hidden your feelings for him. Trapped it inside a chest and swallowed the key yourself. Him falling for you is comparable to that of pigs flying; it was impossible to happen. Yet both of you sat there, like two dorks, a blushing mess while refusing to make eye contact with one another. For once, maybe this time, you could tell him how you feel.

   “I like you. . .” you voiced out your thoughts. It took you a minute to realize what you've done. You let out a small gasp and directed your attention to Shouto. He was also looking at you, baffled. He went silent, his jaw went slack, and eyes wide open, trying to find the words to reply.

   Oh boi, did you made a mistake?

   “(__—“

   “BECAUSE YOU’RE MY FRIEND!” Your jaw tightened, declaring it all too loudly just in case he rejects you. “I like you because you’ve been a good friend to me.”

   You hope you were doing this right.

   Unbeknownst to you, Shouto felt his heart break into two after hearing your added comment. His shoulders slumped down, sadness clouded his features.

   “I. . .I see. . .” he muttered. “I like you too,” he said after a pregnant pause.

   Your whole face lit up. Now it was your turn to look at him with a baffled expression. There was a twinkle in your eye, is this it? The moment of your life?

   “Because you’re my precious friend.” Shouto plastered a smile on his face.

   Oh. Welp, Mina and Denki tried.

   RIP to both of you, forever pushing the other in the friend zone.

ya’ll want a bakugo version of this? (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) ✧

[ofmythsandmadness]

touch-starved | d.h.

or...the seven times it takes diego hargreeves to realises he’s touch-starved, and the one time he actually acts on it.

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SUMMARY: diego x gn!reader. an idiot in love, told entirely from his pov as he walks back on a series of monumental moments in his life. WARNINGS: a tad bit of foul language (bc i can never contain myself, jeez). allusion to sexual acts (nothing explicit, but if you know, you know). flowery garbage writing. probably poor characterization. a weird ending. WORD COUNT: 5.7k NOTES: it’s way too late (early?) for me to be putting this out. but after literally driving myself to tears over this stupid thing, i’m forcing myself to publish it and leave it to the world, for better or for worse. it’s...yeah. i hope it’s alright. x

BUY ME A COFFEE HERE. | CHECK OUT MY OTHER WRITINGS HERE.

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THE FIRST TIME HE REALISED WAS IN THE SUMMER.

“Can I say something weird?”

There is a nervous half-giggle that came after the question, like you aren't quite sure how he’s going to take whatever slipped from your gentle, just parted lips. It hangs much longer than the five words you passed to him and he almost forgets what you asked entirely, so hung up on the breathless fashion your chuckle had come.

But when you blink at him and let your beseeching eyes hover over his, he has to let go of the sound and return to the present.

“Sure,” he says dumbly. “What?”

He loses your eyes then and he finds himself following, eager to see what could have lost your attention so fast. His frown digs heavier as you stare at the table he’s leaned over. There isn’t anything there but his harness scattered across the worn wood and a knife in one hand. He’s been idly fiddling with as some show titters in the background, but his weapon (mal??)practices have never been much interest to you before. So...

Slowly a warm smile comes to cradle your cheeks. It rests as delicate as a crashing wave colliding with the great cliffs you had painted once -- like with everything you did, your smile’s a charging force that transforms you entirely and leaves him in awe that anyone could feel something so strongly. He watches with total enthrallment and for once, he’s not ashamed to feel so.

“You have like, really nice hands.”

You drawl the statement out like it’s some kind of joke. Though, the intense look you so briefly shoot him tells him it's anything but. And suddenly he cannot do anything; the knife falls from his hands and clatters to the table and his fingers tremble under your careful stare, paralysed. 

“I-I-”

“-I know, weird compliment, but,” you chuckle again, low and soft. You shrug. “I was staring at them and realised how nice your hands are.”

“Uh…” he doesn’t know what to do with that information. What does one say to that? Is thank you enough, or is he supposed to just force a laugh and pretend like he is not completely ruined by the way you look at his hands? Compliments are not a usual weapon of choice, but when they come from your lips -- Diego can die right there and go overjoyed.

“Thanks,” he mutters, folding and unfolding his hands on the table. “I...never thought about my hands like that.”

You brighten. In a flash of pastel movement you were pressing close, close, close to him and reaching for a fist. He’s again powerless, forced to just watch you pull his fingers in between your own, softly running gentle pads against his bruised knuckles. The touch is cool but he feels his body combust at the mere swish of skin-to-skin contact and he realises,

maybe he could crave someone’s touch.

“You should,” you grin, exquisite under your apartment’s shitty lighting and the flashes of whatever’s happening on the T.V across the room. “You could like, seriously be a hand model or something. Go-orgeous fingers.”

And maybe, he starts to crave yours.

━

THE SECOND TIME HAPPENS WEEKS LATER. 

He’d fantasized about your touch most of the days between it, but the thoughts had been forced to be fleeting and he had avoided considering the way you looked at him like he could actually hang the moon and stars -- and it only ever caught up to him in the ebbs of night, when he couldn’t sleep and just stared at the ceiling, considering what it would be like to really feel you against his hands and not let you slip away.

He so rarely let the sun touch his skin anymore. It wasn’t intentional to adapt a vampire lifestyle -- but between the shifts that let him keep his dingy ‘home’ and the nights he spends racing around the cursed city, trying to do the right thing (or stick it to his dad, depending on the night and how bleary his head felt), Diego rarely catches himself leaving the gym early than eleven anymore.

A fact that seems to exasperate you, and fuels what you dubbed an intervention. Aka, forcing him to wander around the city just barely kissed by autumn’s chilly embrace. And though he did argue against it (profusely, because he’s still that stubborn sonofabitch), he’s grateful for you still.

“I think we need to make this a regular occurrence,” you sing, tossing a smile over your shoulder. You skip several paces ahead of him as you soak in every bit of sunshine the crisp fall air could offer you. And he flounders and watches as he wonders what it would feel like to have that much energy from merely existing.

“I think I’m gonna have to mandate this. I’ll force you to schedule this into your life, and I’ll take shifts off from work so we can appreciate the afternoon sun while we can. It won’t be long ‘til winter you know.”

He chuckles hesitantly, “the sun’ll still be there in the winter.”

“Sure, but barely. And it’ll be cold then! The sun ain’t nice when it’s cold.”

He laughs again, and you join him. And it’s easy -- because it’s you.

“Diego!”

“Huh?”

You stop then, dropping your hands to your hips and glaring at him. Even from several feet away he can make out the infuriatingly adorable pout that puckers your pretty lips and the way he wishes he could go back in time and learn to paint, so he could capture the curve of your --

“--why are you so slow?!”

“I -- I’m not slow.”

“You are too! You’re dragging your feet like I’m forcing you to go to the dentist or somethin’.” You squint at him as the sun heightens his reach in the great blue sky. “Man, are you that allergic to a good time?”

“Shut up, I’m not that bad.”

The pout gives as easily as honey dripped -- that is to say, he adores the treacly sweet and slow slip from puckered lips to the easy smile you give him. Your entire heart’s behind the look just as it always is. You trot back up the path to him and held your hand out to him, wriggling it in the air.

“What?” he asks, frowning through a slow smile. 

“Take my hand.”

“I…” he hesitates again. “Why?”

“Because you’re slow, and I want to make it to the coffee place before next year. Duh,” you drawl, still shaking your hand like one would to a little kid. “Now, come on!”

You pull and he comes without a fuss, dazed as you bumble on about whatever miraculous happenings go on inside your mind. He hardly hears a thing. Every part of his body is fixated on the soft brush of your thumb against his hand, rubbing soothingly -- he isn’t even sure if you knew you’re aware you’re doing it, but he is. Hell, he can’t feel anything else but that.

Maybe your touch could be a tether.

━

HE HADN’T MEANT FOR THE THIRD TIME. Hadn’t planned to make an event out of it, anyways.

“You’re a fool, Diego. You know that?”

Obviously, he responds silently, grimacing as the cloth presses harder into his cuts. That’s why he did it. Because he is a fool. Honestly, that sums up the majority of the things he does in his life. Or doesn’t do, in the case of you.

Is it bad, if as you scold him, he’s creating a list of even more reasons to love you?

“I mean, one of these days you’re going to come here impaled on like, a pole or something and then -- what am I supposed to do with that?” Your tongue clicks like a disapproving mother’s, but your eyes still dance with childlike mischief as you work. “I am not a nurse.”

“Could’a fooled me, with those hands.”

You glare up at him over your lashes, a sight that made his breath hitch. “Quiet, you.”

Diego does as you said -- but not for any bits or for the joke, only because the way you look at him suddenly made his body tremble with the force of a thousand men and all he wants is to grab your neck and drag you up to meet his lips, finally be rid of the burning sensation in his gut that makes him want to ask the most obscene of--

“--does it hurt?”

He blinks, forcing away the images flashing in his mind so he can focus on the real you again. “Uh -- does what, hurt?”

You take that as a joke, laughing low like his horny idiocy deserved such praise. “This, asshat. Does this,” you press harder with the swab, making him cringe, “hurt?”

“Shit -- yes, it hurts! What’s that for?!”

“Had to make sure you were with me still! Sorry,” you hum, sounding everything but. But your grip softens. “You’re lucky. This could have needed stitches.”

Diego snorts. “It’s not that bad.”

“You look like the fookin’ dino from Jurassic Park felt you up.”

“Not that fookin’ bad,” he mocks back. 

“Your accent is appalling.”

“So’s yours.”

You press harder; when he scowls, you giggle, pleased to have won the battle again. 

The rest comes in silence. You stand between his legs, mopping at his cuts as you are often wont to do when he stumbles into your window. And he tries not to think about the way your weight so casually presses up against his torso as you reach to his temple, parted lips just out of reach. He could do it; he could just reach out and grab your chin, pull you in and kiss you with all the fucking passion that made his stomach roil.

But he doesn’t budge. There is no way you want that and he would never push past that fragile boundary without asking, no matter what the primal part of his mind fantasizes. His eyes fall instead down to his lap, staring at the folds on his pants as your fingers graze across his skin.

“There,” finally comes, along with you stepping away. Your distance leaves a cold chill running down Diego’s spine; he wonders if he asked you to come back, if you would. “Almost done.”

“Almost? What’s left?”

The next few moments move like a movie. The ones he only ever watches with you or with Klaus; the cheesy slow-mo romances, where the two main characters constantly dance around in a will-they-won’t-they that usually drives him nuts. Everything is always so slow in them and he usually hates them -- he did hate them. But when it’s his hands cradled in yours and you are smiling sweet and gentle as a honeybee, hell he’d take every single second of those crap rom-coms, if it leads to that moment more.

You lean in and, holding his hands in your own like an anchor held a boat to shore, press your lips against his temple. The slightest sting from the pressure builds but it falls with the blink of an eye. Your lips are cold, delicate, brushing twice against the cut before pulling away.

“There. Now I’m done.”

Maybe, you’re just some kind of angel.

But then, why are you bothering with him?

━

THE FOURTH HAPPENED SO FAST, he nearly misses it.

You pull him in close, examining his clothes and face for any glaring wounds. When you find nothing but dirt and a couple surface scratches, your worried expression melt into something akin with relief; a shiny-eyed, trembling lip smile that deserves its place in the greatest museums.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whisper, seemingly untrusting of your vocal cords. You sniffle. “I was - I was so--”

“--I’m okay.” It sounds more like a revelation than a reassurance and he repeats himself twice, just to make sure you understand. His hands still grip tight to your forearms, holding you to him in case you would disappear, too. “I’m okay. Everything’s fine.”

You nod and even as you pull away from his hold, you launch. Your arms lace around his neck and your face instantly finds a place to bury itself, right into his shoulder. Your body shakes; he realises that you’re crying into him, so relieved with him being there.

The embrace is short. Too short. He doesn’t do enough to hold your clinging form, only standing there slightly swaying and just barely grazing your back, He considers it too long and doesn’t act enough even when he wants to beg you to never let go again. And when you pull away, you refuse your tears again, sniffling through a smile and asking if he wants some food. But the embrace remained ingrained in his thoughts like a disease; it polluted everything else until everything was you, just you, holding him and wanting him.

Maybe, he was deserving. Maybe he deserved to be wanted. Was that justification enough?

━

THE FIFTH HE ALMOST DIES.

Not literally that time -- no, he’s done enough of that to you. It’s more of a metaphorical sort, making his heart stop as your fingers just graze against his stubble strewn chin, his breath catching on the lump in his throat as he realises yet again that nothing could be more beautiful than your smile.

Diego is not a formal man, nor had he ever really been. Even at the Academy his uniform was almost always somehow out of place or wrinkled or missing a detail. He hates shirts that buttoned all the way up to his throat and pants that have to be pleated that one specific way for no reason at all. If it isn’t important, he wears whatever is closest to him, or his domino-mask-and-leather getup if he’s ‘working’. Hell, the man isn’t even sure he had ever worn a suit outside of his childhood years and Allison’s wedding.

“You look...different.”

He swings fast around to see you leaning against his doorway. You’re all pink cheeks and cheeky grins. Something about the way you look him up and down makes him suddenly want to hide, slip away so you could not see how stupid he looked in this stupid monkey suit clinging to his arms and thighs like stupid plastic wrap. You probably see him as a circus animal, stuck in some stupid performance outfit and told to juggle fire. 

(Honestly, juggling fire would be worlds easier than doing whatever this was, though.)

Slowly, you step into the room, eyes never leaving him. He gulps.

“You look good, Diego.”

He blinks. That is...unexpected. “Y-yeah?” Damn his voice for giving out on him; it comes out squeaky and prepubescent, sounding every bit of uncertainty he feels. “I-I mean, I--”

“--relax, hot stuff,” you wink and his face fills with heat. “You look great. But, your collar…”

Diego glances down only to scowl at the mess of buttons he left around his neck. “Shit, yeah.”

“Let me?”

But you’re already coming to him, though, hands outstretching and delicately folding themselves across his chest. He wonders if you could feel the way his heart beat like there were a thousand drums locked into his chest, or that you knew you smelled like the gods’ ambrosia, honey -sweet smoke dripping from your velvet form. Are you aware how intoxicating your mere presence is?

“Can I?”

He nods dumbly, not trusting his words.

With careful fingers, you weave the buttons together that have been left undone. You then reach up higher, pressing down his collar. 

You hesitate against him, hands still folded into the sharp white fabric. Slowly, one set of fingers unfurl and lift to barely brush against his jaw. It’s a mere allusion to what it would be to have you cradle his face in your caring palms and it only leaves him craving more. 

Your lips curl up too, coloured as deep as the fabric that clings to your exquisite form. Just the tip of hot pink snakes out of your mouth, pressing slyly to the top lip, riling the hotblood boiling inside him right up to the brim.

“What…” the single syllable comes out strangled and hoarse. You’re strangling the life out of him without even moving a finger. Do you know your power?  “What are...what are you doing?”

In hindsight, that’s probably the stupidest question he could have asked.

You baulk and immediately pushed away from him. The fingers glide from his chest and chin and leave him cold. Gone was the confidence you had offered so easily before; he watches, stunned as your eyes fall to the floor, no longer eager to meet his.

“You look good, Diego.” You smile but that time it doesn’t look real at all. “Have fun tonight.”

“Wait, I--”

--you offer a wave and nothing more. Your figure crosses the room and leaves him alone in between the four walls that seemed to press into him without your comforting presence.

Maybe, you could care for him, too. As he wants you too. Is it selfish to think so?

━

THE SIXTH TIME, HE’S ALMOST ASLEEP.

Honestly, Diego isn’t sure how his head had ended up in your lap, or when his body had melted so effortlessly into your own. It wasn’t the alcohol; two beers isn’t enough to kill all of his conditioned issues or turn him into a total sop. It hadn’t even been intentional, nothing about making room or trying to do anything.

But there you are. Your thighs are his pillows and your hands kiss across his scalp, weaving through his hair like it’s yarn to be woven into something beautiful. Once in a while you pause and he thinks that that’s it, you would force him up -- but then you continue like nothing had happened and he continues to lay like a fish out of water across your legs.

Neither of you had talked about the incident before. It was simply avoidance until you both decide to brush it off and move on, forgetting all about the awkwardness. Or, at least, that’s what you silently promised.

But it’s late. Neither of you are thinking. Or, he isn’t at least, when his head slips from the couch to your thinly clad shoulder. And you hardly react when he relaxes even more, silently gesturing for him to use your thighs as a headrest as the movie neither of you are watching drones on. You make some sort of joke, something stupid and it usually wouldn’t be enough to convince him to act so foolishly. But he is tired, and you are you, and it’s all too easy to give in to you.

So he lays. Your hands in his hair. On your lap. Like a baby incapable of even sitting on his own. He should feel unbelievably stupid, right?

“You’ve got beautiful hair,” you mumble, eyes dragging off the television screen to your lap. He barely catches your soft, smiling gaze before it slips back up, but the memory sticks with him long minutes after. “Wish you’d let me play with it more.”

But he can’t bring himself to hate this moment.

He half-snorts, half-laughs because what a funny statement that is. In his state of lovesick, exhausted delirium, Diego hardly recognises himself telling you that ‘you can play with his hair any time you want’.

“Really?”

“Uh…” he had not meant to say that out loud. “I-I--”

“--thanks, honey.” Your hands linger against his temple before stroking down his wavy locks. Honey. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He pulls off of you after a short while -- not because he wants to, because he’s guilty to take your loving hands for his selfish needs. He claims the bathroom excuse and leaves with his head floating in the clouds. The domestic bliss you offer him wasn’t something he thought he wanted, before -- but every time he leaves your bubble, he finds himself more and more starved for your touch.

He leaves your place high on your smile and still stuck on the way you combed through his hair. Even after pulling away yet again, he’s still happy and actually hopeful.

Maybe, he could actually have this, more than just one random rainy night. Maybe he should try.

━

THE SEVENTH TIME, HE ALMOST KISSES YOU.

Almost, because he, Diego ‘number one himbo’ Hargreeves is a self-labelled idiot who loses all cognitive abilities and brain cells when he lays eyes on you, and fails to be able to use them for all the time you’re around him.

And it’s the moment when he finally fully comes to realise the extent of his overwhelming, absolute adoration for you.

He’s never been so bad with that sort of thing. Before he could throw an easy smile and wink his way into a heart he’d no doubt break the following morning and pull a quick-run attraction like it wasn’t anything. But with you? The idea of even your touch turned him bashful and running for the hills, you know...like an idiot.

It takes you pulling him along every single time for him to react and even then, it’s never enough. You’re always left with a pouting lip and that strange, far-off look in your eyes that tells him he’s screwed it up all over again. Every time you get close he’s too blind to react the right way.

Your head on his shoulder, the world’s at peace. He wants you to stay by his side forever. He’ll hold you as long as you want -- hell to his arms, you’re worth the ache or the crick in his neck from bending the wrong way. He’ll let his body waste away and his mind turn to cobwebs if it means an eternity on your balcony, wind in both of your hair and your hands interlacing between his own.

“This is nice,” you murmur. “Yeah?”

He nods. His chin bumps awkwardly against the crown of your head, but you don’t seem to mind.

“I don’t normally like the quiet. But it’s nice like this. With...with you…” you hesitate on the last syllables and the ‘you’ comes out thick and garbled. But he gets it anyways, and somehow he has the emotional strength to pull you even close to his hulking frame. You’re very close to sliding onto his lap and he’d be lying if the idea to just go all the way doesn’t spring to mind. But he doesn’t move.

“It’s nice, knowing you’re here. Safe, alive...with me.”

Diego smiles into your hair. “It is nice.”

Aaand the ‘most obvious statement of the year’ award goes to him. Yet again. Why do you put up with his thick-headed responses? And why can’t he explain the fuzzy feeling in his throat that he gets from being near you, and the desire to give up everything else just to exist by your side? A simple ‘yeah’ doesn’t cover that and he knows that, he knows he has to tell you the entire adoring truth but --

“I like being around you, Diego. You know that, right?”

If he’s being honest...he can’t really believe that. The idea that someone like you enjoys his company is a farfetched concept. But his head bobs up and down again anyways. 

“I, uh...I like our friendship.”

Did you -- did you just friendzone him?!

Did he really just --

“--but sometimes…” you snort out a derisive laugh, “sometimes I wish we were a bit more. Y’know?”

He shifts his weight on the chair and stares down at you, unsure what to make out of any of it. “I - uh - whatdoyoumean?”

“I just, I think we’re good together.” You move too, so he can finally see the pretty way the moonlight bounces off your irises. You’re smiling, and he can’t help but smile too, hopeful and eager as a puppy would be. “And I want to, just...man, I wasn’t expecting this to be so hard to say.”

Vaguely, Diego hears himself respond with a grunt (it’s meant to be an ‘it’s okay’, but apparently English isn’t his strong suit).

“I just like having you around. A lot, if that’s not obvious. I know I’m, heh, kind of a lot sometimes. And I’m trying not to be so uh, affectionate because I know that’s a lot for some people and I never want to overstep, or--”

“--you’re not,” he says quickly, finally finding his voice after oceans of gaping. “I like you being affectionate. It’s nice.”

Your smile grows. “Okay, that’s good.” You hold his fingers a little closer and he’s on cloud nine, staring at you like you’re the eighth wonder of the modern world. “Because if I’m being completely honest here, I don’t want to stop. I...I like you. Generally, in the sense of, more than just friendship. D’you get what I’m saying here?”

“Uh…”

“I don’t want to read into things too much, but I can’t stop myself from feeling really strongly about you. And I don’t want to go on like this, without telling you I’m like, head over heels for you at this point.” You blink up at him, pleading for him to not let you down as you finish with, “is there any way you feel the same?”

What Diego should have done, and wanted to do, was to tell her exactly how he felt, and pull her to him and pull the most cheesy, most cliche Hollywood moment in all the world. He’d finally get the girl in the moonlight as the stars sing above him and the world sleeps below and it would be perfect.

What Diego actually does, is leave.

Cold, and alone, with no hand to hold and no head resting on his shoulder. He leaves you bewildered and probably pissed off and he leaves with no explanation at all -- just a garbled sentence or two that adds up to nothing. He drops his shattered heart at the door and wanders  home shivering and hopeless, knowing he has just fucked it all up.

As he stares at the sidewalk and plods down the street like a lonely, hard down soul, Diego wonders if he’s deserving of your touch. If he was allowed to open up and feel your affection so strongly as you give it. He wants to like you would probably never believe. He wants to hold you and he doesn’t want to let go again. He’s starved for your touch and he’d trade the sun and stars to keep you by his side, no matter the costs.

But you’re worth more than him. Shouldn’t you offer your heart to a better, kinder man? To someone who knows how to hold you properly, and offer his touch right back? Not someone who shivers away or rejects your kindness like a parasite. But someone brave enough to feed you with all the adoration you’re worthy of. Shouldn’t he be who you seek?

Maybe, Diego muses, the universe is wrong, and the mistress is nothing but a cruel meddler too eager to break his heart.

But maybe, it’s his own fault, and she’s not cruel at all.

His pace quickens a beat, and he suddenly knows what he has to do.

━ 

DIEGO’S LIKE NINETY-NINE PERCENT CERTAIN THAT NO ONE, no one living soul, had ever said that the eighth time was the charm.

But if he had to be the first, hell he’d ring that bell a thousand times if it got him where he had to be.

He’s running like a madman. And he’s not drunk, even if at least five people have grumbled that about him -- no he’s as sober as the day he was forced into the world. He’s made a thirty-minute walk of hell into somehow a twelve-minute dash through the cold streets of their shitty city and he feels like a god, if gods were desperate sonofabitches who never knew how to acknowledge their feelings until it’s too late.

He takes the stairs, too high on adrenaline to wait for the elevator. He gasps and huffs and pants his way up but he makes it and keels down the hall to your door, falling against it with all his weight. It’s a foolish move but in his defense...his legs are about to give out, and all the energy he’s devoted to this half-baked, foolish, love-drunk plan is very quickly running out.

He pounds against the door weakly. “Hello? Hello? I--” 

and then he literally crashes into your apartment.

You both tumble to the floor with a loud thud-thump and he’s so glad you have thick carpeting because he could have probably split your skull right open with the fall. He’s smart enough to roll, so he cushions your upper body with his, but you still groan as you make contact with the floor. His entire bone structure quakes at the feeling of ground hitting him and even with nary a breath in his throat, immediate guilt floods his system.

He falls back and silently screams, wishing he had more tact than this.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“I’m...I’m so sorry,” he offers with a smile. He quickly props himself up over your body and tries to look as sorry as he truly feels, though it’s hard as his breath still won’t come and he’s still absolutely exhausted from running all this way.

Why did he do all this again?

Oh, yeah.

“I-I love you,” he spurts, followed by him rolling off and promptly falling into a coughing/choking/hacking fit.

You lay beside him, silent and stunned. He can’t see you as he coughs but his mind tries to put the pieces together, and none of it looks good. You’re probably annoyed, and mad that he’s even there so late and after what happened before, and you’re probably tired, and maybe sad, or hurt, or uncomfortable because you just jumped from friends to him admitting he loves you and --

“-did you seriously run all this way and body me, just to tell me that?!” 

He pulls himself together long enough to breathe and then turn so he can stare at you. You’re still beside him, body still pressed against the floor (possibly broken after having a much larger man knock you over, who knows) and you’re…

“You’re smiling,” he responds, like it’s the most shocking thing in the world. “You’re - why-”

“Last time I saw you, you were running out of my place like your ass was on fire. And now you come here, knock me on my ass, and tell me you love me?! Diego...uh...wow.”

Diego just stares back at her. He’s still struggling to breathe and if he’s being honest, he’s not sure if he can function after any of this. He just wasted so much of his courage (something he’s never been good at keeping stock of) on just getting here, how is he supposed to collect himself and head out the door with any sense of dignity? Or answer you in any way, shape or form? How is he supposed to even move when you’re looking at him like that?

Wait, you’re...you’re looking at him like that. Smiling, doe-eyed, honey-sweet and beautiful even after being violently collided with and forced to your shitty carpet…

“I love you,” he breaths, soft but still sure. He grins back at you and he feels like an idiot but he holds strong. “And I’m really sorry about before. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m just, all this stuff is stuff I’ve never done before, and I--”

And without another word or even the chance to think, your lips are on his.

Well, they probably were meant to be. What really happens is with a grunt and a swift push, you shift over to him and move to kiss him, only you’re both still smiling and absolute idiots who then just bang teeth against teeth. And you’re left groaning and keeling back, both gripping your mouths while still smiling and,

Ohmygodthisisamessbutohmygodishesohappyandinlovewithyou.

“I’m so sorry,” you groan, muffled behind your hand.

“Me too -- for knocking you over, too!”

“Yeah, that’s gonna leave a bruise.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you chuckle, and lift up again. You hover above him. His nose just barely brushes against yours and he’s straight back into heaven again, even as the embarrassment floods and his teeth ache. “I mean, I would have preferred a bit more warning, but...at least you don’t hate me.”

Diego grins and lifts his hand to push a tendril of hair behind your ear. “I could never hate you.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Mm-hmm. I’m glad you don’t hate me.”

“Please,” you roll your eyes and shove at his chest. His heart beats even faster. “Like I could ever hate you.”

He lifts his head, trying to pull himself up to meet your lips, but you dart away just enough so he can’t. “Can - can we try this again?”

“Mm…” you pretend to consider his request like one would a business proposal. Your thighs tighten their grip around his stomach and a part of him just wants to pull you in and act as his heart pleads. But, given the last time he did that...and the last time you did...he’ll take this slow.

Instead of answering, you lean down and press your lips to his. It’s gentle and leisurely, but he takes every motion in stride. You’re everything he expected and more. Soft petals of reddened flesh against his, your hips just barely grazing against his own, making him want to pull you into his body and never let you leave his side. He’s jubilant and exhilarated and he almost laughs like a baby as your tongue swipes against his bottom lip.

“If it isn’t obvious,” you breathe as you pull away, “from the way I let you tackle me to my floor,”

“I’m really sorry about that,”

You pull his hand up and intertwine your fingers, shaking your ‘head’ no. “I love your touch-starved ass too, Diego.”

“Good, cause this would have been--”

“--no more talking, chatterbox. Just kiss me and shut up.”

And he lets go of the maybes, and just loves you.

SECOND A/N...this ending is just ackwa!?!hiwogh. very annoyed with how it went, but if you know me, you know i suck at conclusions in every sense of the world and i also always leave them to the very last minute, meaning i’m typing this note as i read over the ending and hate it even more. and i’m sorry for the vague messiness of this! I had an idea, failed to deliver it the way i wanted, and a cool thought turned into a half-baked fic. thank you to those who read this, sorry’s also extended your ways because i know this isn’t fantastic. lmao.

- xx 

[xpeachesncream]

acquainted | four

> series masterlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: (2nd bts member to be revealed) x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut (to come)

words: 4.2k

warnings: implied sexual content, your friends are still extra, cussing / mature language, relationship issues, angst, making out, slight dry humping, you actually act on your hoe-ish thoughts because seokjinnie keeps testing you??

notes: 2nd member involved in this love triangle will be revealed next chapter and it’s actually gonna start getting messy. are you with me? 😈

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead @bluesharksandfish​ @photographic-girl (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

A couple of days have passed and you were only getting more giddy as time passes. It sounds stupid as hell, and sometimes you can't help but curse yourself for having a crush on someone so unattainable. The thrill, though, is what excites you, and knowing that there's a possibility Jin may reciprocate the same feelings. Since he had placed his number in your phone, he had sent you random, occasional 'have a good day!' texts and smiley faces. Maybe it didn't help that he was only fueling the fire by sending you texts like this. You couldn't help but ponder on the thought that you had crossed his mind from time to time, and that my friends, was fucking attractive.

"Her head game was on point." Taehyung smirked and leaned back in his chair, making Ryujin roll her eyes at him.

"You're sick, no one asked about your night."

"Why do you sound so mad, sweetie?" He leaned closer to her.

"I'm not mad." She scooted her chair away from him. "Can you believe this right now?" She shot you a look, but you were too busy texting on your phone, responding to the messages you couldn't get to earlier.

[jin] 3:05pm: I hope your day has been treating you well. See you soon?

[y/n] 5:37pm: Been a little busy, but hasn't been bad. :) Excited for class!

You laughed at yourself because who even says 'Excited for class' like that? You were really playing yourself right now.

"Earth to Mr. Kim's mistress?" You shot Taehyung a look and immediately shoved his face away.

"Jeez, you've been glued to your phone so much lately. Did you find new dick, or something?" Ryujin asked as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand.

"No, god. I've just been trying to keep myself occupied." She shrugs and doesn't press any further. Thank god, because you hadn't told any of your friends how Jin comforted you that evening and how he had given you his personal number just to check in every now and then. You didn't plan on telling them anytime soon, only because they'd be dramatic about it and you didn't have the energy to calm the chaos that would ensue.

"Speaking of - have you guys started the assignment due next week for Mr. Kim's class?" Jimin kept his eyes on the work in front of him.

"No. I'll probably do that the day of." Taehyung says as he texts on his phone.

"I was going to ask him for help later."

"Were you now?" Jimin rose his eyebrow, shooting you a look.

"Yes, and it's only because I can't choose which topic to write about."

"Why don't you ask us?"

"Because this always ends up being an open-ended debate and the conversation ultimately ends with no decision made." Jimin nodded in agreement.

"Touché."

"Bat your eyelashes while you're at it, kay?" Ryujin giggles.

"You guys are free to join me."

"Mmm no thanks, I don't think I need any help right now." Jimin responds.

"Same. Besides, I'd rather not cockblock."

"Honestly so sick of you guys." You all end up packing your things to head to Jin's classroom, all four of you entering one by one and taking your seats near the front. Class goes by rather quickly, you and Jin stealing glances from time to time. Ryujin, Jimin and Taehyung offer to wait up for you near the library and you simply nod, letting them know you'll only take a quick minute to talk about the assignment. Once they've disappeared from the hallway corridor, you turn on your heels to make your way over to Jin at the front desk, where he's arranging his things and getting them together.

"Y/N, hey." He smiles at you, tilting his head to look at you from his stance. "What's up?"

"I uh, just wanted to ask for your opinion about the assignment. If.. you aren't busy?" He chuckled and shook his head.

"No, not at all. What's going on?"

"Well, I've just been having trouble deciding on a topic." You placed your things down.

"Alright, try me." He nods towards the whiteboard, signaling for you to scribble your ideas onto the board so he could help you map out your thoughts. You quietly walk over, grabbing the only black whiteboard marker available and start talking through your thoughts. He sits on the desk, arms crossed, watching you scribble on the board. He chimes in every now and then, either agreeing or disagreeing, and providing his honest opinion as to what might work best for the assignment.

"Mm, okay. I think that makes better sense." You step back and take a look at the things you've crossed out and circled, leaving you to finalize the topic for your assignment.

"Yeah, I think so." He stands and nods in agreement. You turn to look at him, only to realize how close in proximity your body was to his. His hands are tucked into his pockets while he looks down at you. Both of you don't move, regardless of how close you two are at the moment. You feel stuck, and the only option that crosses your mind is something you shouldn't even be thinking about. Yet, you still act on it. You find yourself on your tippy-toes laying a kiss on his plump lips, but you quickly pull away and gasp, realizing what you had done.

"I-I'm so sorry, I-" You stutter as you step back to try and quickly grab your things. "I gotta go." You dash out of the room, your heart beating through your chest. As soon as you were far as possible from his room, you slowed your pace to gather your breathing. You facepalmed so hard because what the fuck! You felt dumb as hell for acting the way you did, let alone for thinking his texts and all the attention even meant anything.

Way to fucking go, Y/N. You could feel how embarrassing next class will be already.

As soon as you spot your friends, you try to put on a smile and brush the thoughts out of your head when you see them waving you over. Jimin instantly throws his arm around your shoulder, helping you feel at ease as you momentarily forget about the events that just transpired.

"Ready? We're gonna go grab some pizza before heading home." You smiled at him.

"Yeah, I'm down."

Jin grabbed his things, feeling a little conflicted about what just happened. He knew this was something that shouldn't have happened, nor should it ever happen again. Yet, he wanted more of this feeling you gave him. He longed for it. He couldn't explain the feeling he got when he felt your lips against his, he just knew he was interested in more. It was bad as fuck, but it was the same thrill you felt that peeked his interest.

Jin pulled into the lot of him and Grace's house, seeing he was the first one home yet again. It wasn't a surprise to him anymore, and quite frankly, he was used to being home first all the time. It would have been a surprise if Grace was here before he was. Not gonna lie, after what happened, it makes him feel a little empty inside. He's starting to feel like he wanted more of you and to see you outside of campus grounds. He wanted your company and enjoyed your presence, inside of the classroom and even through simple things like text. It just made him happy, and like he was appreciated. Wanted.

Yeah, that quick. He was starting to crave you.

He kicked off his shoes by the door and changed into comfier clothes. He took some time to work out at their home gym before eating whatever leftovers were left in the fridge. He happily warms up his food and quickly gobbles it up, leaving the dishes in the sink for him to get to later. He hops into a hot, relaxing shower, letting the heat hit his back and relax him from all the stress he had been experiencing lately. It was so relaxing that he didn't even hear Grace shut their front door. He only found out he wasn't alone when he heard dishes being washed and slammed onto the dish rack and cabinet doors being slammed shut. He dried himself off a bit, before wrapping the towel around his waist and heading into the kitchen to see what the commotion was.

"Hey, you're home." He says with a smile on his face, but she continued to place dishes on the rack without looking at him.

"Yeah, and you couldn't even think to wash your dishes and clean up the kitchen?" His smile immediately turned into a frown when he realized Grace was far from being in a good mood. Over what? Dishes that he was eventually going to wash anyways?

"I was going to get to them."

"Jeez, Jin. I've had such a long day, the least you could do is help out and clean up after yourself." She glared at him.

"Woah, hey. I do my part around here. Just because I didn't do my dishes right away doesn't mean I don't do anything at all under this house."

"Hasn't seemed like it." She walked away, brushing him off completely. If it's one thing Jin could point out about his fiancé, it was the fact that she liked to project when she was upset. It was the one thing that drove him crazy, and the one thing he felt like couldn't be fixed. It was just in her nature, no matter how many times they've fought and argued about it. He tries to be patient and understanding. He tries to relate. Yes, I'm sorry you had a bad day. But just because you had a bad day, doesn't mean you bring the negative energy into this house.

"That's not fair, Grace."

"Grow up, Jin." She snapped as she headed upstairs. "I'm going up to pack and head to bed." He continued to watch her, appalled at the attitude she was throwing tonight. He really couldn't understand why this was happening over some dishes. He didn't wanna be here right now, and he wasn't going to deal with this shit. To be honest, he was feeling a little relieved knowing he'd get some space from her when she flies to New York for a week. She had some work to do for the opening of her restaurant down there, plus some related projects for her book.

He heads upstairs to throw on some jeans, a hoodie and a hat before passing Grace in their walk-in closet.

"Off for a drive again, huh?" She says as she keeps her eyes on the luggage laid out in front of her. It's sad that Grace knows what Jin does whenever he doesn't wanna deal with her attitude. But, no matter how many times he's tried to communicate and talk it out, it never mattered to her.

"Yeah, because it doesn't seem like you can communicate properly tonight."

"And how is a drive supposed to help?" She turns to look at him, but he doesn't say anything. She scoffs before returning her attention back to the clothes she was packing into her luggage. "Perfect. Run away from our issues, Jin. It's what you do best." He shook his head and sighed.

"I'm not doing this with you tonight, Grace. Not over some dishes that were eventually going to get washed and fixed." He walked out, but turned back on his heel to finish off his thoughts. "You know, I really wanted to have a nice night with you. Pop some wine and put on a movie, just to enjoy being in each other's presence since it feels like we haven't done that in a really long time. But, so be it." He threw his hands up in defeat and continued to walk out. He really did want to try, though. Part of him felt like he needed to because he was probably just longing for that attention from his fiancé, which is why he had been feeling the way he had been about you. Maybe it would have helped him brush it off like it was a silly, little crush. However, tonight just amplified those feelings he had for you and he wanted nothing more but to just see you and hear your voice.

He lowers the brim of his cap as he walks to his car, instantly starting it up and driving off. At first, he was conflicted. He wasn't sure if he was making the right decision or not, or if his judgment was cloudy. But something in him tweaked and made him say, fuck it. He was tired, and for once, he just wanted to feel wanted.

You sat on your living room floor, putting together a vision board for yourself. A ton of magazine cut outs and printouts laid alongside of you, waiting to be organized onto the small white board. You had been rearranging the layout for quite some time, feeling a little frustrated at the perfectionist in you. This definitely could have been quicker if you hadn't picked at the fine details too much. It was nearing 10:30pm; after you and your friends had ate pizza together, you all went your separate ways, tired from this week's events already. You especially didn't want to linger around, the thought of you kissing Jin in the classroom still haunting you. You felt your phone vibrating off to the side, signaling a call coming in.

Speak of the devil.

You hesitate, afraid that this had to do with what happened earlier and to be frank, you weren't sure if you were ready to deal with the repercussions just yet. The call ends, but a text notification pops up at the top of your screen.

[jin] 10:27pm: Are you free right now?

[y/n] 10:28pm: Sorry, yeah I am. What's up?

[jin] 10:29pm: Can we meet up?

You stare at your phone, unsure if you should take the opportunity to see him. It could mean a lot of things, or it could mean nothing. It could be about the kiss, or it couldn't be. But, you can't help but feel a little guilty that he had been there for you when you needed someone and here you were, contemplating if you should blow him off.

[y/n] 10:32pm: Sure. Is everything okay?

[jin] 10:32pm: I think, kind of just need some good company.

[y/n] 10:33pm: Oh, okay. Yeah, I'll come. Just let me know where.

You watch as he drops his location into the message, and it's not too far from where you live. You actually are quite familiar with the area to know that he's sending you up to a view that overlooks the Bay Bridge. You and your friends used to go there often during undergrad, just to eat edibles and eat hella junk food. Those were the days. You all quickly outgrew it though.

The drive up is a little scary, with only a few street lights posted as you drive up the hill. You catch a glimpse of Jin's car, being that he's already leaning against it, facing the view. You pull up into the empty spot next it, taking a deep breath and recollecting your thoughts before stepping out. Whatever it is, just be honest. That kiss was because you wanted to kiss him, but perhaps you misread the vibe about everything.

Not perhaps. You for sure misread the vibe about everything. He's fucking engaged. There was no way.

"I brought you brownie." Is the first thing you say as you hand him a ziploc with a huge brownie square. "There's no weed in it or anything, I promise it's clean." He chuckles as he takes it from you. "I just figured you could use a picker upper since you seemed like you might've need it."

"Thank you." His trunk had been open, so he takes a seat and invites you to sit next to him. You leave a bit of space just to be sure, since you already crossed your boundaries earlier and you weren't even sure how that was gonna play in to tonight.

"So, what's on your mind?" You dread asking him the question but you knew there was a reason he brought you out here.

"I, uh. Just had a pretty tough day and wanted to surround myself around good company." He turned to look at you.

"Oh, so I made the good company list?" You chuckle.

"Yeah, you did." He looks back out at the view. You examine him, his body language still a little tense from whatever he had just experienced.

"Was it Grace?" You ask softly and he nods in return.

"We've just been having issues. It's no biggie."

"No biggie, huh? Then why are we out here looking at the bay bridge?" He chuckles again. You think it's cute the way his dimples under his eyes pop out when he smiles and laughs.

"Touché. I mean, what if I just wanted to hang out with someone who could cheer me up?"

"Wow, then that's a lot of pressure on me." You laugh. "I can already tell something's wrong. You were there for me, so I just want you to know that I'm all ears." He sighed.

"It's kind of dumb? Maybe not? Me and Grace just haven't been the same for awhile now."

"How so?"

"We're just distant. We haven't done things together like we used to because we're both busy and so wrapped up with work."

"Jin." You smile shyly because this couldn't be a serious excuse. You always need to try and make things work! "You know being busy shouldn't be an excuse, right?"

"I know, I know." He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, it's difficult to explain. I question if we're still in love with each other or if we're just sticking to this because we're comfortable."

"Deep down, I know you still love and care for her."

"I do. It's been hard to show that these past months. I guess.. what I'm trying to say is that it's been easy to focus more on the negatives than the positives. There have been more negatives than positives."

"Why don't you sit her down and talk about this?"

"I can't. I try, but I really can't. She's always coming home in a nasty mood all the time."

"Well, she might have a lot to balance on her plate. Not everyone approaches things the same way and if you know Grace easily shuts people out when she's overwhelmed or stressed, then I think you just need to continue supporting her by simply being there for her."

"I know." He looks down at his hands.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm just thinking. I hear you loud and clear though." He smiles at you toothlessly.

"Try talking to her. Work it out. I know she's important to you."

"She is but," He shakes his head once more. "I can't shake off this feeling."

"What feeling?"

"It's going to sound stupid."

"Nothing is ever stupid." He simply looked at you before responding.

"Earlier, in the classroom—" Fuck, you thought. You thought you had just gotten lucky tonight and that you both had put it past you so that you could move on without ever mentioning it. But half of you knew you'd still have to confront your mistake either way. Nothing was ever that easy.

"Jin, I'm so sorry, I didn't think about—"

"I didn't want you to stop." He spits out, causing you to stop mid-sentence. Your eyes widened after you had just registered what he had said. Was he fucking playing with you right now? This shit really couldn't be real.

"W-what?"

"I can't shake off this feeling because of you and as bad as it sounds, I really don't want that to go away."

"Jin." You say softly. "You should really work this out with Grace. This feeling is just temporary and you know it is because she's your fiancé. What happened earlier was a mistake and it shouldn't have happened." It kind of sucks, but it's true. You don't really know why you did what you did and what you wanted out of it. You knew what this would entail and it would be too messy. People would just end up getting hurt left and right. It would be a domino effect.

"Was it though?"

"I'm not trying to get in between you two." You beat around the bush with your response.

"Then, what did you want out of that earlier?" He stares at you. You can't help but feel yourself melt at the way he's eyeing you and the way he's actually teasing the fuck out of you with his piercing eyes.

"I don't know." He continues to stare, but this time his face is edging closer to yours.

"You can't even tell me straight up that it was nothing." He says, almost at a whisper. Your knees are starting to buckle beneath you and although you knew you needed to stop this, you couldn't see yourself doing it right at this moment.

"We shouldn't be doing this." You whisper, his lips inches away from yours at this point.

"Then why aren't you stopping me, Y/N?" No response. Before you knew it, your eyes were shut as your lips pressed against his. The feeling of his lips sent chills down your spine, his hand now tugging you closer to his body. You waste no time straddling his lap, deepening the kiss as your hands rest on his face and your hips grind against his. God, he was so fucking attractive and everything about him drove your ass crazy. You wanted him.

But you couldn't have him.

"Stop, stop." You edged your head back, reality settling in once his hands start to dip inside your sweats. "We really shouldn't be doing this." You climb off of him and gather your things.

"Y/N, wait."

"Jin." You turn to look at him. "Listen to me. We would never work."

"I wouldn't say never—"

"Look, this is already difficult as is and I'm trying really hard not to make this even more complicated for anyone. At the end of the day, you're still with Grace. You're still engaged to Grace." You emphasized. "I can't get in between you two, and I don't want to hurt her." How in the fuck did things escalate so quickly? How did we get here?

"I know that, and I know you don't. But you can't tell me that you didn't feel anything just now."

"I'm not saying that I didn't. I did, I-I do." You stuttered on your own words. "But I shouldn't be acting on it and neither should you. You should really focus on working things out in your relationship. I know deep down you love her and want to make this work."

"That's the thing, Y/N. I don't know how else I can make this work with her. I've ran out of options."

"Jin, you planned to marry her! You do understand that you can't just give up on someone like that, especially your future wife."

"As much as I appreciate this and understand where you're coming from, you don't know our relationship."

"I just don't want you to give up on her. I want you to try for her, not just because I told you so." He can see how serious things have turned, and  he knew you were right. This would be complicated. But damn, was he undeniably attracted to you and he loved the feeling he got from all of this.

"I-" He sighs. "You make me feel things that I haven't felt in a long time."

"You have your life planned out already, and so does Grace. You obviously saw a life and a future with her, and that's what you should continue building. I don't even know how to get from point A to point B in life and I still have shit to learn. Like-like changing car lights or how to do a fucking oil change by myself! I'm a mess. I'm not the one you should be thinking about."

"I don't care about that." He spits out as he gently grabs your wrist and turns you to face him.

"Don't make this harder than it already is." With all this shit going on, you still found yourself wanting him the same way you did earlier. Looking at him made you want to do unspeakable things and it didn't help that he gave you the green light to do so.

The temptations.

"I'm not trying to."

"We should really keep our distance from each other, okay? You need to work things out and I'm going to give you the space to do so."

"Fuck, Y/N. I really don't want that."

"I'm sorry." You whisper as you break free from his grip and get back into your car. You hear him groan, causing you to cry to yourself as you drive off and get back home. One mistake turned everything upside down, and now everything was suddenly 10x more complicated than it ever was in the beginning. You couldn't help but curse yourself and blame yourself for letting this happen the way it did.

But shit is done. The mistake happened. There was no taking it back.

You just needed to give him space to get over it, and that would be the end of it. Easy.

Or so you assume.

[hxneyandespressx]

the holidate

summary: emily and jennifer pair up to be platonic dates for Christmas and New Year’s. little did they know, real feelings would be caught along the way. 

pairing: emily prentiss x jennifer jareau (jemily)

word count: 4.9k

☆。*。☆。

Sitting by the bar, Emily took a sip of her second drink of the night. It was nearing Christmas, and the bar was filling up with lonely singles and a few happy couples. At this time in the night, the bar usually would be packed. Now that it was the holiday season, there was less of a turnout. The noirette had been here for a little while, an hour at most, and was drinking her dread away. She hoped to avoid the questions to come at the upcoming family gathering. Every year, on her vacation to her mother’s mansion, all of her extended family members asked Emily one of the following questions:

“Do you have a boyfriend?” 

“How’s your career going?”

“What’s it like working in London?”

As she thought about visiting them, Emily sat her head down on the countertop. She had been dreading the visit for weeks. Her family could be a bit much, intense one might call it. There were always arguments between the conservative uncles. Endless gossiping amongst the aunts. Even her grandmother would take her time picking apart all of Emily’s flaws. Never once had there been a quiet holiday without someone (usually Emily) creating chaos, dampening everyone’s festive mood.

Several minutes had passed, her head hanging low from stress, and Emily felt a warm presence standing beside her, leaning against the bar casually. This stranger was able to find a spot due to the bar being at fifty percent capacity. Usually, one would not be able to find a spot to sit down at. 

Turning her head at a slight angle, out of the corner of her deep russet eyes, Emily saw the most beautiful woman that she had seen in her entire life. Dressed in a long-sleeved, baby blue mid-length dress with a pair of velvet thigh-high boots, with a black wool peacoat, a petite blonde smiled softly at Emily.

“Drinking your sorrows away tonight?” The blonde said while softly smirking and gesturing at the red lipstick-lined glass. Emily chuckled. 

“Sorry. I just hate going back home for the holidays.” Emily sat up from her previous position, gazing into her almost empty drink.  

“Don’t worry. I feel the same way. By the way, I’m Jennifer,” the blonde held out her hand, “but my friends call me JJ.”

“Emily.” The women shook hands then JJ took the seat next to the slouching woman. The stranger called over the bartender and ordered a blood orange cosmopolitan. 

“A Cosmo. Fancy, aren’t we?” Emily asked with a hint of a teasing tone. 

“Liking a fruity cocktail doesn’t hurt anyone.” The bartender hand over JJ her drink and she took a few sips to get the evening going. 

Emily shrugged her shoulders and took a long sip of her drink. Indie Christmas music played in the background as the two women sat in silence. 

“So… what’s the family like?” JJ decided to start some small talk. What else was there to do at a pub on a Tuesday evening? 

“You know… the typical family from the Capitol. A high-powered mother who’s career-driven, a sprinkle of conservative uncles who care about traditions, a dash of gossiping aunts who only cared about themselves, and the cousins whom you haven’t talked to in years. And the crazy grandmother who’s funeral is right around the corner. Then there’s the dead beat dad. And finally, the lonely and depressed single woman who wants to bring someone home for the holidays so then she won’t get pestered by the family with questions. Hint: that one’s me,” Emily shook her head at herself for spilling out the truth of the Prentiss family. “I can only do so much to tolerate them.”

Emily took another sip of her drink.

“Sorry for spilling my guts out. Holidays can be tough, am I right?”  JJ chuckled softly and passively waved her hand, understanding where Emily came from. JJ’s home life hadn’t been the best. Her sister died. Her parents divorced. The perfect brew for a lonely middle-aged woman.

“Don’t worry about it,” JJ gently laughed. “I didn’t travel back home for Christmas this year because my mother and I aren’t on speaking terms.” 

“Ah…I’m sorry about that.” Emily understood what it was like not having a caring mother. It was difficult to handle, but both Emily and JJ made it through in their own circumstances. 

A shared emotion loomed over the pair: the experience of being lonely during the holidays. JJ felt something stir in her heart. Perhaps a sign telling her to go with her instincts. Maybe something new could be starting between them? JJ furrowed her brow, brainstorming ideas to spend more time with the not-so-strange stranger next to her. The gears turned in her mind. She had to take this opportunity, or else it would slip away — to be forgotten forever. 

“You know… I do need a partner for a New Year’s Eve party that I got invited to.” JJ said nonchalantly. The blonde was interested in this Emily character. She had to think of a way to see her again. 

Emily raised her eyebrows and did her crooked smile. 

“I can take you to the party if I get to take you as my friend-date to a Christmas gala that my family attends every year,” Emily countered, “It gets super lonely when you’re the only single, middle-aged woman there.” The brunette set down her third and final drink down for the night. 

“Platonic? As in two strangers getting together as friends? During the holiday season?” JJ said, lifting her perfectly coiffed left eyebrow.

“That’s what I’m proposing.” JJ twiddled with her rings nervously underneath the countertop. She did not want Emily to see how anxious she got. 

Emily took some time to think about the situation she was getting herself into. 

“So… we agree that we are going to be each other’s holiday dates, as friends?” JJ asked Emily as she took a small black booklet and a pen out of her purse. Emily hummed as she sipped her drink, signifying a “yes.”

Writing her phone number down in light blue ink, JJ said, “I guess you can call me ‘babe’ for the weekend.” JJ winked at Emily when she looked up from her mini notebook.  

A slight peachy blush formed on Emily’s chiseled cheekbones. The blonde ripped the piece of paper from her little notebook, folded it into a neat square, and placed it in the hands of a blushing Emily. JJ noticed the blush and tried her best to not stare at the gorgeous woman in front of her. 

Placing some money as a tip for the bartender, JJ gestured “call me soon” at Emily, leaving the woman sitting by the bar flustered, wondering to herself what she had gotten herself into.

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December 23rd. Dread showed on Emily’s face. She gave herself a pep talk before knocking on the wooden door with the polished brass door knocker. Already regretting her decision, Emily knotted her scarf for the second time to keep the chill wind from nipping her already rosy nose and cheeks. Wanting to keep warm, Emily took out her zippo lighter and pack of cigarettes. She lit one up as she waited out in the cold. 20 minutes went by and Emily noticed a short dark figure approaching the main door. 

Taking her last drag of smoke, the young woman dropped her cigarette and stomped on it to get rid of the evidence from her mother. Just to be safe, Emily popped in a few mints to disguise her breath. Then, the door opened, and behind it was Emily’s mother. Elizabeth Prentiss. 

“Hello, mother,” Emily snarled with a hint of disgust. 

“Emilia.” Elizabeth had a neutral expression when facing Emily. She opened the door wider, letting her daughter in, along with the frosty winter air of December. As she entered the expertly decorated house, Emily took in the scene of the living room. Her little cousins were chasing each other. The uncles were drinking mulled wine and discussing the current events. The aunts were gossiping and making snide comments about their social circle. As Emily walked past her extended family members, a field of judgy looks followed her. Emily sighed, grudgingly waiting for the influx of questions from her aunts and uncles while putting her coat onto the coat hanger, and headed towards the snack bar. While nibbling on some toasted almonds, Emily felt a looming presence next to her. Without hesitation, Emily looked into her mother’s eyes, saying the words leave me alone silently. 

“You’re not still smoking, are you?” Elizabeth inquired. 

“Uh… no mother, I’m not still smoking. It was just a smoky Uber.”

“No man wants to marry a smoker.” 

Emily rolled her deep umber eyes as she walked away from the one person that she resented all these past years. 

“Any time I come home for the holidays, I’m showered in a sea of pity and sad glances,” Emily scoffed in anger. “I mean, why is everyone so suspicious of a happy single woman?”

“We just want the best for you, Emilia.”

“Whatever, mother.” Wanting to stay away from Elizabeth, Emily made her home with the home bar. 

 Couldn’t her mother see how disgusted she was at the mention of “man”? Well, how could she even know her, when Elizabeth Prentiss left Emily, only to be taken care of by a nanny. Since Elizabeth was the US ambassador, she put her career first, family second. Emily always felt she was second to her mother’s career. Well, at least her mother was okay with her being a lesbian. Emily would not say the same for some of the extended family. 

Not wanting to get too hung up on her problems, Emily lent out her helping hands to set up the dinner, to be attended by all of her aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandmother. Since Emily’s grandmother was the eldest in the family, she was seated at the head of the table. The setting had to be up to the Prentiss standard: skillfully decorated with garlands, candles, dinnerware, and neatly-folded napkins. The main dish was placed in the center to showcase the work put into it. After everything got set up, everyone gathered around to start fueling up their famished selves.

Not even ten minutes passed before one of Emily’s aunts asked her the dreaded question.  

“So, Emily. How are your romantic endeavors going? Found a man yet?” 

The thirty-year-old gritted her teeth in frustration. This was the exact conversation that she wanted to avoid. Most of the family acknowledge the fact that Emily Prentiss was in fact, a lesbian. However, they would rather keep quiet about it to remain perfect to their elitist friends.

“I’m dating here and there. Sometimes it does take a while to find the right man for you,” Emily lied through her teeth. She hated doing this every holiday season. Making up lies just to satisfy a person whom Emily only sees on holidays. Emily resented playing the role of “ambassador’s perfect daughter”. She always had ever since her teenage rebellion years.  

At her aunt's satisfied expression, Emily felt like she dodged a bullet. She did not feel like starting up an argument or an intervention. She only said that to please her aunt and everyone else. She had learned to say such things to avoid controversy, learning from her teenage rebellion that it never ended well for Emily.  

The rest of the dinner went on without an uproar, everyone eating and talking with pleasantries. 

Sometime after, the family was sitting around the large living, the fireplace crackling and its warmth filling the room, altogether creating a sense of hygge. One of Emily’s cousins stood up, clearing his throat. 

“Could I have everyone’s attention?” Jake Prentiss — an insufferable lawyer that Emily never really got along with — nervously called out. “I have something to say.” Everyone in the room became quiet and gave the spotlight to the man in the middle.  

He gently grabbed his girlfriend’s hand, making them stand in the center of the room. Emily mouthed a fuck no underneath her breath, standing underneath the kitchen archway in shock. 

“Claire Alexandria Scott, I know it’s only been four months and 8 amazing days,” Jake dropped down on one knee and he took out a small black box, opening it to reveal an engagement ring. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?” 

The whole family cheered in joyous remarks, as the girlfriend-turned-fiancée accepted the proposal and had the ring put on her. Emily groaned at the scene, zipping up her new jacket, hiding her face in the hood. She felt like hiding away in a closet, never to be seen again. 

Frustration boiled within Emily. Why couldn’t she find someone to be happy with? Was the universe playing games with her? Emily always felt that life was a cruel witch, waiting to cast a spell to mess with her. However, this year, Emily felt something different. It was like life was giving her a chance. A chance at love. To be happy, free, in love. Does God want me to be with JJ from the bar? I knew that I felt something when I first saw her. Emily snapped from her thoughts, poured some more wine, and left the joyous celebration that was happening in the family room.  

Later that night, in her townhouse, Emily laid awake on her bed. She could not sleep as she had a lot on her mind. Grabbing her robe and phone, Emily quietly tiptoed downstairs and entered the kitchen. Usually, when Emily was stressed, she baked. It was the quietness she appreciated as the cookies cooked in the oven. But, her mind was filled too much with anxiety and stress from the holidays, so the brunette chose a simple task. 

Few events had happened that day, and everyone expected Emily to find a man and settle down, now that she’s the only one left single and the youngest of those who grew up with Emily. However, Emily usually was not the type to just settle down, even less so with a man. Many thoughts and emotions went through her mind as the young woman silently worked around the kitchen to make a warm beverage to calm her mind. 

Twenty-seven minutes went by and Emily checked the kitchen clock. 3:39 AM brightly lit against the darkness. Sitting by the bay window, Emily stared at the winter scenery, sipping on a hot toddy while watching the snow gently coating the evergreen pines. Her mind filled with thoughts. I wonder what would happen if I called her. Would she say no? Oh God, what if after meeting at the bar, she revoked the offer? 

Emily worried about being questioned by few family members tomorrow, or worse, being rejected by the one woman she had momentarily shown interest in. The middle-aged woman bit her lips in nervousness. Hoping that she felt the same, Emily unlocked her phone with her thumb and opened the messages app. Her phone teased her with the blinking cursor on the brightly lit screen.

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Christmas Eve. The family was scrambling around to prepare for the Christmas gala that was supposed to happen that night. The event was to be attended by the A-listers, politicians, anyone of importance. Emily stood in the background of the large family room, sipping on her glass of pinot noir while watching the chaos run amok in front of her. One of the cousins was wrapping presents quickly as a last-minute ditch effort. The children were running around the house, playing tag. Emily’s mother was shouting at people to get ready quickly to take a family photo for her social media accounts.

“Come on, people. We don’t have all day,” Emily’s mother said in an exasperated tone. “All we need is one good picture, then we are good to go for the Christmas gala this evening.” The ambassador tried her best to gather the younger children to the family room. 

The gala. That’s all that Elizabeth talked about. Emily was getting tired of it. She rolled her eyes, knowing that her mother only cared about looking good for the public. Since Elizabeth Prentiss was an ambassador, everything was about appearance and being “perfect”. This put a strain on Emily and her mother’s relationship, as Emily had a tough time conforming to what the politicians and other elite people wanted. 

She sighed in annoyance. Feeling slightly anxious, Emily bit her nails as she waited for her friend-date to arrive at the Prentiss house. Honestly, Emily could care less if a few family members caused an uproar over the fact that Emily was bringing a woman as a date. They knew of Emily being a lesbian, but they abided by the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. One could say that this was Emily’s gesture to finally say “fuck you” to all the conservatives in her family. 

Some time passed and the sound of the doorbell rang. Emily walked over to the main door. She opened the wooden door to greet Jennifer Jareau, all dressed perfectly for the gala.

“Wow, um..” Emily felt lost for words. “You’re….uh… beautiful.” She tried to compose herself. What the hell is wrong with me? This is purely platonic. Why am I feeling butterflies in my stomach?

Emily’s eyes did a quick scan to take in what JJ was wearing: a mid-length black lace dress with a high neck, accompanied by a white faux fur shawl, her golden honey locks perfectly curled and set in place. 

“You look beautiful as well.” JJ whispered underneath her breath, closing in the space between her and Prentiss. Deciding to be sneaky, JJ quickly pecked Emily’s right cheek. The taller woman stood under the doorway in shock, trying to rationalize what just happened. Friends do this right? I mean I know in Europe they do. 

Emily tried to cool her rosy cheeks down as she let in her friend-date. That’s all that it was. Platonic. No strings attached. Just friends attending an event together. 

Elizabeth Prentiss saw from the living room archway what was unfolding at the main doorway. She walked over to her daughter to inquire what her plans for the evening were. 

“Who’s this, Emilia?” 

“Oh.. um... This is Jennifer. She’s my... date,” Emily said. “She’s my plus one for the gala.” A few of Emily’s uncles and aunts huffed and turned their heads away in disapproval. A few of her cousins smiled and silently congratulated her. Clearly, they were eavesdropping on what was happening at the front door. 

Elizabeth squinted her eyes at her daughter.

“That’s okay with me,” Elizabeth turned to JJ, handing her phone to the blonde. “Can you take a photo of the family before we all head over to the gala?”

“Uh sure.” JJ took the ambassador’s phone and took a position in front of the Prentiss family. Emily stood in her stance awkwardly, wishing that this predicament had not happened in the first place. After a few quick snaps, JJ took the pictures and handed the phone back to Elizabeth. 

“Blurry. Boring. Nope. Nope. Nope,” Emily’s mother said as she swiped through the photos JJ took of the family, also commenting on the “style” the blonde took them in. JJ stood there. She felt like she was being lectured by a school teacher. 

“Okay, none of these will do. We will try again tomorrow.” JJ made a neutral expression, almost in disbelief that Emily’s mother would treat her like that. But then again, Emily had told JJ that her mother was like this. Nitpicky, wanting everything to be precise. To be perfect. 

After the photoshoot, everyone quickly headed out to their cars parked outside. JJ rode in an Uber with Emily to their destination. During their ride to the event, the two women talked. Oh, how they talked like they were friends from long ago. They stopped talking only when they arrived at their destination. 

JJ walked down the white marble steps of the venue. Jazz music could be heard all around the place. Christmas decorations neatly brought the whole ambiance together.

“Wow!” JJ was in shock at the number of people on the floor, mingling and drinking. 

“I know it’s a lot… Don’t worry, I got your back.” Emily took JJ from the top of the stairs and straight up to the open bar. 

Emily ordered a vodka soda while JJ ordered a Moscow mule. They laughed when they realized they both ordered something with vodka, just in two different flavors. After grabbing their drinks, both the women socialized with the other people at the gala — or rather Emily did, while JJ, who did not grow up in the eyes of politics, watched the scene. JJ stood there, smiling at the woman in her sight. She couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol or her own feelings, but JJ felt at peace for the first time in a long time. She felt whole. Complete. Loved.  

As she watched Emily Prentiss play the role of ambassador’s daughter, JJ felt a fluttering motion in her heart. It was like the universe was telling JJ that Emily was the one for her. No more second chances. She is the one. And for once, JJ was willing to listen to her heart when it came to this matter. After her four-year relationship with her previous boyfriend, William LaMontagne, ended two years ago, JJ felt she had nothing in the world. A few months after the break-up, the events of her sister’s death and her parents’ divorce unfolded. All of it caused JJ to feel nothing for the next two years. All she focused on was her career. Until that fateful day, at the bar, when she met Emily. 

When JJ entered through those wooden doors of the pub, her eyes first laid on Emily sitting by the bar countertop. Her heart fluttered a little, but JJ ignored it, feeling she wasn’t ready to go into a relationship. But, as she got to know Emily more, JJ slowly but surely fell in love with the brunette. It was definitely love at first sight. JJ was not the type to believe in concepts like that. But she was sure about her feelings for the brunette. 

The blonde, from afar, stared at Emily working her magic to engage the conversation with her mother and a group of elderly men. All of a sudden, Emily’s voice could be heard loud and clear. 

“I’m sorry. You don’t think gay people deserve rights?” Emily questioned while crossing her arms across her chest in anger.

“Well… Just so you know, you are speaking to the lesbian daughter of US ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Yes, I am not the ‘perfect’ daughter, but who cares! Perfect is meaningless in this world. It’s subjective. And I am not sorry for who I am.” Emily stood her ground and walked away from the group she was in with her mother. Elizabeth looked absolutely shocked by that speech. After recovering from the initial shock, the ambassador mouthed I’m proud of you at her daughter. 

Everyone in the venue watched Emily as she headed toward JJ. 

The blonde held out Emily’s drink to hand it over to her. She also poked Emily’s nose, to lighten the mood.

“You okay, Emily?” JJ asked. The taller woman huffed in frustration. Emily felt like she needed space away from the stuffy elitists. 

 “Why don’t we get out of here and take a little breather?” JJ offered. Emily nodded her head in agreement and both women took their jackets and walked out through the glass back doors.

They ducked out of the gala quietly. Snowflakes reflected the warm orange lights from the streetlamps. A type of quietness settled between the “couple”. The crisp winter chilled their flushed cheeks, making them sober up a little.  

The pair stood in the cold, enjoying the silence. But they knew that this would not last forever, as they would have to go their separate ways once the night ended. Emily and JJ continued their walk around the perimeter of the venue for three hours, just talking about every subject there was to think of. Hobbies. Careers. Art. Music. Hopes. Goals. Dreams. They turned around a corner to arrive back at the gala venue. JJ stopped Emily at the front iron gate.  

“Well… tonight’s been fun,” JJ said.  

“I agree. This year’s gala was much more bearable having you by my side.” JJ lightly blushed and barely attempted to hide it with her jacket collar. Emily noticed a tinge of color on JJ’s cheeks and softly smiled. The two women had started to fall for each other, twirling around each other like a pair of ivy vines. 

Unsure of the time, Emily quickly checked her watch. 

“It’s getting late. Want me to drop you off at your place?” Emily offered. JJ smiled happily at the gesture.

“I would love that.”

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New Year’s Eve. The music blared from the stereo system. Lights strobed along with the music. Emily and JJ leaned against the stainless steel railing on the balcony, watching the view below. Many drinks were ordered and downed within the one-and-a-half-hour they had been at the party. The slightly drunk women were playing a game where they made up stories about the people dancing below.

“I think the leather-vest-mate’s up now.”  Emily said. 

“Oh, okay, he’s an options trader.” JJ pointed at a silver-haired man dancing with his very young date. “Divorced. Two kids at Northwestern. She was his decorator on the new condo, hoping to be wife number three.” 

“Very good. Very good,” Emily said, looking at JJ and smiling at her story-making skills.

Both the women turned around and Emily jumped quickly on the scene in front of them. 

“Ooh, uh, white satin ruffles. Rented tuxedo. He’s just drenched in sweat. They are definitely getting engaged at midnight.” 

“Wow. You’re good.” JJ said. 

Emily shrugged at the compliment.

“It’s a gift,” Emily drank some more bubbly champagne, feeling a bit friskier than usual. “By the way, your tits look exceptional in that dress.”

“Thanks. That’s why I bought it.” JJ smiled at the compliment and did a little twirl. 

“Overall, you are just beautiful. As always.”

“That’s really sweet of you to notice.” JJ blushed, and she thanked the dark atmosphere of the venue for hiding it. She wouldn’t want her maybe-crush to notice that she was blushing not from the alcohol, but from her burgeoning feelings for the other woman.

Both the women downed their drinks and ordered some more. Once they felt they had enough, the “couple” headed down to the dance floor and had their fun for the night. They danced their feet off. Blew some gigantic bubbles with a long star-shaped bubble wand Beach balls were tossed amongst the crowd. Then the song “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life” came on the speakers. JJ looked towards Emily as the taller woman made way and backed up to provide room for the jump from Dirty Dancing. 

Emily smirked and said, “Nobody puts Baby in a corner.” JJ grinned as she shook off her heels and Emily threw off her blazer, showing off her lean arm muscle. JJ speed walked over to Emily and as the iconic line went off, Emily caught JJ in her hands, like Patrick Swayze in the film. Several seconds later, Emily’s arms gave out and JJ toppled on top of her.

After escaping the dance floor, both the women nursed their injured heads on a leather loveseat. Shoes were off, splayed across the glass table in front of them. JJ huffed in annoyance after what happened on the dance floor. 

���Nobody drops Baby on her head.” Emily crookedly smiled and whispered “sorry”. Both stayed silent as they were becoming inebriated, surrounding themselves with the noise and action. Forty-five minutes passed, and JJ got bored with sitting and moping in pain, rather than having fun on the last day of the year.

“Wanna head up to the roof? We could take a break from the noise.” Emily nodded in agreement. 

They left the crowded atmosphere and climbed up to the top of the building. The chill winter breeze cooled down their flushed cheeks. The stars twinkled brighter against the pitch-black sky. The two women watched the glittering lights of Washington, DC. It was time for the countdown. 

10

JJ ever so slightly turned her head towards Emily.

9

Out of the corner of her eye, Emily noticed that JJ was looking at her and turned her own head towards her date. There was a certain softness to those baby blue eyes. 

8

“I’m glad I get to spend the last seconds of this year with you. You are incredible,” JJ said. Emily blushed a rosy pink, both from the cold and what JJ said. 

7

“I could say the same about you.”

6

“I really do hope we get to see each other more in the new year.”

5

“Why is that?”

4

“Because…. Um.” JJ felt nervous telling Emily the reason. She worried that it would ruin what was happening at the moment.

3

“You know what. Fuck it.”

2

JJ grabbed Emily’s face and roughly placed a kiss on her chapped, pink lips.

1

A roar of cheers and a chorus of yelled “Happy New Year!” filled the air as the clock struck midnight. The whole city celebrated. JJ took a deep breath as she parted from Emily’s lips.

“Happy New Year, Emily.” 

Emily looked at the gleaming girl in front of her and said, “Happy New Year, JJ.”

taglist:  @queer-rambling / @voidreid / @homosexualyearning / @babey-jj / @ssaemxlyprentxss / @pumpkin-goob / @iconicc / @fuckshitupm8-deactivated3728  / @blakes-dictionxry / @gravelyhumerus /  @foreverxgolden / @abbyprentiss / @lizziechase / @purelyprentiss / @heavenlydevil / @haleymalaffey

[thran-duils]

From All Sides (P.6)

Title: From All Sides (Part Six) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Pirate Tony. Tony is obsessed with a certain barmaid at port and showers her with gifts to try to bring her to his bed. She is resistant to his advances, her eyes elsewhere, specifically on her coworker, the cook. Although, that love is unrequited and always will be. The reader is forced into close quarters with Tony unexpectedly and sailing the sea, she slowly bends to his will. And he plans to give her all the affection he can to make sure she stays. Words: 2,280 Warnings (for the whole fic): Eventual smut, violence, angst, possessive behavior

Part Five || Part Seven || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“Where the hell is she?” Tony practically shouted.

They had made rounds around the inside of the cavern for the last fifteen minutes, looking in game rooms and cabins where she might be. Tony had ignored everything Steve was saying up until that point, on a rampage to find her. Much to Steve’s annoyance because he had an idea where she might be and even more so, annoying that Tony himself had left Y/N on the beach and was now mad she had wandered off. He had just wanted to drink and sit on the ship.

Grasping the opportunity of Tony standing still, Steve stepped into his sights.

“I’m sure she’s fine. Vanko said a dark-haired ‘boy’. It was probably Peter!” Steve blurted.

“Peter?” Tony demanded.

Steve saw the jealousy already swimming and he said, “Yeah. Who else would come swooping in to rescue her to make sure that no one took advantage of her? He knows she’s with you and he doesn’t want to piss his captain off. He did it for you! She’s probably with him!”

“Where’s his cabin?” Tony said.

<><><>

Peter walked with you down the sandy path. “And he just… left you down here? By yourself?” You nodded and Peter frowned.

“You don’t judge me?” you asked. He shook his head and a sad smile reached you. “I know many are not followers of religion here – myself included – but it seems the mere idea of… being with a woman would cause scorn. Casting me out.”

You had already spilled everything to Tony and telling someone else you felt close to felt now like nothing. You had held it inside for so long. And for how Tony reacted, you thought yourself perhaps wicked for how you had acted and you wanted to be clean with everyone. Peter was reacting far differently than Tony though. And that was not entirely shocking; Peter was not pining after you. He was objective.

Peter shrugged and said, “It does not bother me in the slightest. Eloise was nice.”

Nice. As if that was the only thing that mattered. Nothing else. It was so simple when he put it like that.

“Yes… she was.”

“Is,” Peter corrected, giving you a bump with his shoulder for reassurance.

“Right. Is.”

Peter asked, “Do you really want to go back to our home port? To see if she is still there? I mean… you said yourself that you did not think she would ever return the feelings. So… do you think it would be worth it? To go back to settle for that?”

You sighed heavily. You could read the undertone of his words. You had someone here that actually returned your feelings.

But then he cut you off at the knees of that thought about Tony.

“I mean, going back to port makes sense if you are looking to find Adam.”

Turning your head towards him, you met his gaze. And you could see he could see the remorse in your eyes.

His shoulders slumped and he asked, “Did you… were you never considering him?”

Reluctantly, you admitted, some tears coming, “I didn’t know how to let him down easily. He was so kind. I would feel guilty doing it, but I still felt guilty not doing it.”

“May I have your problem some day of having multiple people after me,” Peter said. Your face fell and he quickly said, “I did not mean for that to come off as crass. I can see it was hard. I was… just trying to make light. It was not the time. Sorry.”

The two of you walked in silence for a while. The waves lapped at the shore, coming close to your own feet. The sand was wet, and it felt good beneath your bare feet, your shoes held in your hand. The moonlight was reflecting off the sea, lighting the beach. You could stay here… truly. Just build a house up further in the rocks and always have the sea to look out at.

Peter was still quiet, waiting for you to initiate again. You cleared your throat.

“No. I know. I had multiple people. Some dropped off after a month or so, but they kept coming. Tony was constant. And… I knew. I knew this whole time if it was anyone, it was going to be Tony. And I don’t mean that in a last resort kind of way. It’s just the one that made the most sense. But like I told you, I’m afraid of being left behind.”

“Maybe he would not leave you behind? He’s already brought you on the ship.”

“Out of necessity. I’m sure that will change. And then I’ll just be left to wait for him.” You scoffed, suddenly angry again about your exchange with him earlier. “And he was so indignant that I loved anyone but him.”

“He’s a jealous man,” Peter commented.

“He is!” you agreed. “He cannot stand it knowing someone else was in my sights! Even Adam! He cornered him you know? I know he was threatening him. I didn’t heart it but I could see it in their body language. I was a prize for him, and he was making sure no one else would win me but him.” You inhaled deeply before admitting. “But what he said was true. I kept him dangling. Because I could not face the fact that Eloise and I were not to be. And I may have fueled his jealous behavior by continuing to flirt and giving him the hope he needed to be persistent.”

Peter looped arms with you and leaned in. “If he really likes you, he’ll get over it.”

You snorted, holding him tighter. “Tony? Get over a slight? I will live to see the day. He could not even handle it when men merely flirted with me at the tavern when he was at port and witnessed it.” You exhaled deeply and said, “I shouldn’t have told him about Eloise. I was pretty far deep in a bottle and thought maybe it would be okay, but I should have known then he would be envious. Even more so now that we have laid together.”

You suddenly blanched, realizing what you had divulged and shot Peter an embarrassed look.

Peter recovered quickly and ran a hand through his hair. “Are you happy though?”

“Mostly.”

“’Mostly’?”

“Yes. He will take care of me, is far too handsome for his own good, and he is kind enough to me. And is not… unskilled in the bedroom.” Peter’s lip upticked at the corner and you elbowed him with the arm looped, causing him to grunt before the two of you laughed. “I just wish he had not gotten so angry with me for telling him my feelings. He is possessive. And his anger is so easily lit. A very short fuse.”

Peter shrugged as if it was simple. “Then let’s just stay out. You and me. We have this whole ocean. And we can go lay on the grass up there when we are done and watch the stars.”

“That sounds romantic.”

“Trust me, Y/N. I’m not after you. Not to insult but I have my eyes set on the sea.”

You rolled your eyes, “Sounds like someone else I know.”

“And there had been a girl at port.”

That piqued your interest. “Who?”

“Mary Jane.”

“The florist?” He nodded and you smiled, grasping his hand. “You two would make a fine match.”

“If we ever go back to port, she’ll be the first one I will look for.”

“Why not request to go back? We both have someone to look for?”

Peter shook his head. “No… I think I was driven from port with events beyond my control. Right now, I need to follow the tide.” You frowned and he shrugged. “If we are meant to be, we will find each other again.”

“I wish I was so easily able to go with the flow as you,” you told him.

Peter snorted now. He pushed you towards the waterline, your feet dipping into the wave that lapped at the sore. “Come on now! Have some fun! You deserve it!”

“We’re both drunk.”

“That’ll make it this much more fun! Come on. Tony was an asshole to you, and you need to blow off some steam!”

He was right.

You dropped your shoes onto the sand, further up away from where the waves would touch them, and he followed your lead. Bending over one foot at a time, Peter pulled his shoes off and tossed them. You tore your gown off, leaving you in your shift. Your gown fluttered to the ground closer but far enough away to ensure it would not be swept away.

The water was up at your waist before Peter swooped at you and drug you under with him. Your scream was lost as you closed your mouth at the last second to make sure you did not swallow any salt water. The water was reprieve, a cold bath.

<><><>

“Well, there she is,” Sam commented, stopping on the grassy path outside the cavern. They had been hiking up it to check around the island.

He pointed down the cliffs and found Y/N only yards away from where her and Tony had been down on the beach. And there was a dark-haired boy with her. Peter, it looked like. And they were swimming together.

Tony rolled his eyes to high heaven before turning around and making to go back down.

“We need that boy. The food has been so much better with him the last couple weeks,” Steve hissed at Bucky and Sam. “Please don’t let him do anything rash. He’s still beyond drunk! Be on my side!”

Without waiting for them to answer, he turned and followed Tony quickly.

<><><>

Storming up to the edge of the waves, Tony shouted, “Y/N!”

She had just surfaced and had not heard him. He bellowed her name again over the waves and she turned her head towards him.

Her expression darkened as she recognized him, brushing her hair away from her forehead, and she shouted back, “What the hell do you want, Tony?”

Tony bristled at her attitude.

“Get out of the damn water!” he demanded, coming into the waves. “Come to my cabin!”

“No!” she snapped, still holding onto Peter’s arms. Peter was looking at Tony uncomfortably, nervous. “You’ve made your feelings clear! I’m just a whore, remember! I should sleep in any bed!”

Tony started coming through the waves, his legs dragging in the current until he was almost knee deep, stopping again. “I will not have you sleeping anywhere but my cabin! Get. Over. Here. Now!” She huffed disobediently, and he shouted, “Before I lose my fucking temper!”

His shout seemed to get through to her.

She shot Peter a look before pulling away from him. He followed her still all the same and Tony fought the monster clawing away inside his chest. As soon as she was within arm’s reach, he yanked her to him and she stumbled in the water.

“If anything makes you look like a whore, it’s being in your underdress with a man under the moonlight! And not to mention, kissing another merely an hour before!” She opened her mouth to argue and he spat, “Save it!”

He demanded you pick up your dress and shoes. You angrily followed his directions, and he took a tight hold of your wrist again, yanking you close once more. Over your shoulder, he told the men he had brought with him, “We’re going to my cabin. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you for your assistance. Please, grab one a bottle from the bar and put it on my tab.” They seemed to perk up that. His eyes fell on Peter and he sneered, “Get yourself dressed, boy. You’re going to be needed for breakfast sooner rather than later.”

With that, he pulled you behind him up the path towards the cavern again. But he was not taking you towards the cabins, he was taking you towards his ship. He was silent, ignoring your questioning. As soon as you were into his quarters again though, he propelled you in front of him, letting go. You stumbled, trying to catch your balance as he turned away and closed the door behind him. You threw your dress and shoes on the ground, pissed off.

He was on you in a second, a finger held up in warning. “I’ve had quite enough of your games, Y/N! I have been patient! I have given you choice and time and—FUCK! All the time in the world! You’re here with me now and that’s how it is going to stay! No more pussyfooting around!”

“I’m not pussyfooting—”

“This is where you stay,” Tony interrupted roughly, his finger pointed downwards at the hardwood of the cabin, his gaze burning into you. “You do not step foot off the ship but also, this room is where you stay!”

“I’m not a pet you can keep caged up!” you protested.

He closed the space quickly, fire burning in his eyes. “Watch me!” Tony snarled, towering over you.

You cowered back slightly, and he noticed. He was firm when he told you, “It’s just me. From now on. That’s all you get. If you really truly have feelings for me, this is your time to prove it. Stay in here! Like I just told you!” He leaned in to hiss, “Don’t test me, love! I’m done playing nice!”

He turned around furiously and strode out of his quarters, slamming the door behind him, and you jumped at the sound.

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

[just-whatever-ig]

A comfortable Clone Commanders pile

Dedicated to: TyraCapulet

I was asked to write clone pile things. And I wrote this.

Rex knocked on the door of Fox's office. He had not been there often in his life, the dry and quiet hallways of the senate made him uneasy, his hands drawn to his hips like magnets.

There was laughter behind the door and a strained sound of someone before the door opened and he got greeted with Ponds’ gruff but giggly face. "Rexyyy", he grinned and slumped against the doorway, his breath carried the distinct smell of strong alcohol. "Are you guys getting dunked in there without me?", Rex raised an eyebrow and pushed past Ponds to find his brothers, Cody, Fox, Thorn and Colt - much to his surprise - huddled together on the floor. Most of them had already disposed of their upper armor.

"Reeeex", Fox called, almost throwing a small bottle at him that definitely contained said strong alcohol. Cody grinned, cheeks pink from drinking while Colt still seemed pretty cooled in his place behind Thorn's back. They all somehow already managed to lay on each other with nobody being the lowest. Impresive with only 4 people.

"Mind if I join?", Rex grinned happily as Ponds already helped him take off his armor. It would only get in the way uncomfortably. "Please", Thorn slurred and grabbed the bottle from Fox's hand to take a swig. He pulled a face and passed it on to Cody who screwed the lid back on. "What's the Rancor Commander doing here?", Rex pushed aside their legs to make space for himself and add himself into the pile.

"You know, vacation is a thing", Colt replied with a self-indulgent smirk. "You lucky fucker", Thorn commented with a snort. Rex snaked himself under Cody's legs with his head on Fox's soft belly - a clear sign for the lack of training his fellow brother got around here, forging the chancellor's signature instead of fighting. "Here, Rex'ika", Fox pushed the bottle into Rex's chest and he took his time to look at the tagless bottle. "What even is that?" - "Some super cheap backyard slobbery, it's awful", Ponds explained and pushed himself up to Cody's flank and probably back into his arms judging by the way Cody awaited him.

"Hey, Thorn", Fox uncoordinatedly slapped his brother in guards against the biceps, "When was this ambassador gathering again?" - "The one with La Pee Tou?" - "Yeah." - "Like... noon-ish?" - "Ah. Alright."

"Don't mind if I ask, who's La Pee Tou?", Rex questioned as he unscrewed the bottle and took a sup without even smelling, there was no use, his receptors had been burned to the ground by the last tear gas ambush on Polonio I. The liquor felt like he was swallowing down a rotgut made with gunship fuel. It burned his throat like fire and caused him to clear his throat a few times.

"Tou is an ambassador from the far outside worlds, even beyond the outer rim. They're interested in trading, or something", Fox explained and passed the bottle on to Colt who took a big swig before Ponds reached for it. "Fifth sector worlds? They do realize we're in war, right?", Cody snickered. "The shab do I know?", Fox threw up his hands and snatched the bottle from Ponds waiting hands to have another swig.

"Hehe", Thorn laughed lightly, "You won't believe what happened the other day." - "What?", Rex accepted the bottle once again. "This man, yeah, this man of a chancellor...", his voice was a mixture of exasperation and amusement. Fox burst out laughing. "Oh, riiight, I totally forgot 'bout that." - "Sometimes I think this man just wants to die. Like that one suicidal senator we had, you remember?" - "Lord Oberon?" - "Yeah. But like three times worse."

"Why? What did he do?", Cody chuckled. "You know, he's the chancellor, which means he gets a lot of death threats, most of them are just harmless little jabs but there was this one message that everyone of us said should be taken seriously because we don't want to take any chances. We tell him that, say that he should stay in his damn penthouse until we have clearance and all." Fox's laugh had almost become hysterical at that point, his stomach pushing up against Rex's head like a jackhammer. "What does this bloody idiot do - I'm still not over this stupidity", Thorn rubbed his face, "He legitimately dresses up as one of his body guards and sneaks out of the senate like a stupid little bitch." - "I love how he literally thought we wouldn't notice", Fox laughed, "Like, homie, what did you expect? Your bodyguards are like 5 miles taller than us. Don't you think we notice when they magically shrink?!"

"Did you call him out?", Colt asked. "Nah", Thorn snickered, "We want him to believe that we didn't notice." - "I want to know how often he's going to pull that off", Fox added, smirking into the neck of the bottle.

"Quick check-in, who's still bound to show up?" - "Nobody", Colt waved off, "You were the last." - "Oh yeah? Where's Wolffe and Bly? I mean, I know that Bacara's on Tamba IX." - "Bly is somewhere shagging his girlfriend." - "What?", Rex snorted, and made himself comfortable against the side of Fox's chest. "He'd protest loudly", Cody threw in, "But it's impossible there's not something between them. I mean, just look at her clothes." - "Yeah, she basically asks to be shagged, right?", Ponds added. "Are we speaking about General Secura?" - "Who else?", Cody grinned.

"Well, Commander Tano uses to wear rather.... liberal clothes as well, but we still get along on a very professional base", Rex argued. "Yeah, because she's like 3 standard years old", Ponds rolled his eyes. "She's actually older than us", Cody corrected neutrally. "What?!", was Fox's reply. "Yeah, but I'm still concerned for her most of the times. General Skywalker is so chaotic at times and she's such a teeny weeny little thing, I’m afraid she might get caught in the crossfire at some point", Rex sighed, "You know, she's my superior and older and everything but I just feel.... responsible."

"I totally get what you mean", Cody threw him a brotherly but slightly too strong punch, "Do you remember that few months when you still served under my command and Skywalker was still a commander himself?" Rex laughed. Yes. He did remember that time vividly with all it's craziness. "That must have been the worst time of your lives", Ponds commented. "You bet!", Rex spat out.

Thorn and Colt chuckled. "At least you work together with people who got a clue of what the shab is going on", now it was Colt's turn to throw up his hands in disbelief. "You won't believe what strange excuses some rookies come up with just to not be bound to do anything", he laughed lightly, "I once had a squad who all broke a bone on purpose to avoid being shipped out. You should have heard their stories, one of them said he fell from his cot. And another one 'slipped in the shower'." - "Oh, so they were lying?", Thorn asked. "Well.... one wasn't. One of them stumbled over some stairs and totally wrecked his kneecaps." That drew a round of laughter from the pile.

"Folks, guys, brothers, I have a good story as well", Cody flailed with his arm to get the next turn to speak. "Are you going to complain about General Kenobi again?", Rex predicted with an eyeroll. This was getting out of hand, Cody didn't even realize how lucky he was with the reserved and calm thinking Jedi Council member and not with an airhead called General Skywalker. "How do you even expect him to talk about anyone else?", Fox mumbled around the rim of the rotgut. "Force, you're so right. Cody, your Kenobi-stress-headaches have been replaced with an obsession. This is an unhealthy turn of events", Ponds teased, earning himself a slap against the chest.

"Alright", Colt rolled his eyes, "Tell us, then." Cody opened his mouth to speak but had to take his time to giggle first which immediately infected the whole group. Cody's laugh was rare. But ever the funniest, with a little snort in the beginning and the waving snickering in the end. "It was-", he had to pause again, "I'm wheezing, guys." - "Believe it or not, we noticed", Thorn commented dryly which set Fox off like a rocket for no reason whatsoever. "Impressive story, really", Colt took over from there and Rex had to shift his head because the constant thrashes of Fox's stomach were getting uncomfortable in his neck. "I really liked that middle part", Thorn continued, Fox was officially lost now. "Yeah, never have we heard of such stupidity before", Colt agreed and took another big mouthful.

"You didn't even hear the story yet", Cody whined between sobs and Ponds patted him on the head: "It's alright, Cod'ika, we don't have to if you're not ready yet." Fox let out a pitched, strangled scream and threw his arm over his eyes, his laughing already sounded more like crying in the moment. "Folks, guys, brothers", Rex called, laughing, "Have mercy, he's gonna choke." Fox made a night vision goggles sound before laughing his ass off again. "I think we broke him", Thorn said and received an approving clap on the chest from Colt.

Rex was beginning to feel warm in his skin. The alcohol was taking effect on him now as well but the happiness within the circle of his batchmates was definitely playing a factor in this. He felt like he never wanted to get up again, hearing Fox enjoy himself so much he'd choke on his own spit or Cody now quietly complaining to Ponds about whatever breakneck stunt General Kenobi had pulled off this time or Thorn audibly approving of the way Colt began to card through his thick, paling hair. Rex was happy here surrounded by his brothers in arms. He would never want to trade them for anyone else, not even Torrent Co, and those were a funny and chaotic little pile of ants. He smiled and closed his eyes then pressed his cheek against Fox's warm thigh. This was where he wanted to be right now and nowhere else.

"Rex's enjoying himseeelf", Thorn called out and now suddenly the attention was on Rex. He grinned at them a little sheepishly and tried to hide his blush in Fox's blacks. "Aww, what're ya thinking 'bout, vod'ika?", Colt asked and now even Cody and Ponds rose their heads to look at them. "Ah, nothing", he grinned behind flushed cheeks, "I was just thinking how lucky I am to still have you guys." That erupted a wave of hums and awws from his friends and Fox immediately opened his arms wide. "C'mere lil bro", he slurred and what else could Rex do but comply? He shuffled closer and placed his head on Fox's chest only to get swallowed up by comfortable arms.

He felt the pile tighten around him as the others tried to participate a little in the hug. Rex smiled into Fox's chest and closed his eyes again. "I love you idiots. From deep within my heart", he confessed. "You say that to every batch you've ever been in?", Colt joked and earned himself a slap from Thorn. "Stop killing the fucking mood, Colt", Cody complained. There was a hand between Rex's shoulders that started dragging their nails over his back, which caused comfy goosebumps to trail down his spine. He reached out with his own arm to follow the trail of the comfort bringer to find it was leading back to Thorn. He scratched lightly over his brother's shoulder before resting his hand there which soon was accompanied by Colt's much warmer hand.

A comfortable silence fell around them all and when Rex paid much attention to it he could hear the quiet scritching of Colt's nails on Thorn's scalp or the rub of a hand over blacks. Soon those sounds were drowned out, though, by Fox taking out his feels on Rex's buzzcut.

The even movement of blunt nails on his scalp and the slight fondle on his neck and the regular rise and fall of Fox's ribcage rocked Rex's dreamboat. What if, he thought, it could always be like this? To come home after a long, day of hard work and just lay down and be peaceful with each other. Oh, what wouldn't he give for that?

"I love you, too, brothers", Thorn mumbled after a while. "Mhm", Cody hummed approvingly followed suit by the sound of a kiss. Rex opened his eyes again to see who it had been but they were all laying there comfortably with their eyes closed and arms and legs wrapped around each other. A peaceful picture, laughing into the face of the war. Children, as they were. And he was part of this beautiful, comfortable home.

[pl-panda]

The Vines that bind us - Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don’t own Miraculous Ladybug or any DC characters. I own only the plot, and even that is inspired by the amazing story "Marigold Ivy" by @lwandile13 on Wattpad. Go check it. It's great. He allowed me to take some inspiration, for which I'm grateful. Also, don't translate the french words maybe. Or at least do it on your own responsibility. Big thanks to @Liza! on Discord for being my Beta :)

NEXT

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a normal girl, with a normal life. But she had a secret. Her real name was Marigold Isley. She was born under that name in Gotham city sixteen years ago. Her mother never revealed to her who was her father, but Mari never cared. She was happy with her mom and several aunts and uncles. Technically, none of them were related to her by blood, but Rogues were quite close to each other (excluding some outcasts like Joker or the Menagerie). They taught her many interesting things such as lockpicking, stealth 101, or hand-to-hand combat. She was five when it started, so her first-ever practical test was breaking into a kitchen cupboard and stealing a jar of cookies. Overall, she was very happy. 

It changed when she was eight. One very tired social service person named Elizabeth Barrow got wind of a child of a villain. That Elizabeth was new to Gotham after being reassigned from Metropolis and didn’t yet get the wind of how things worked. Maybe her colleagues didn’t like her, or maybe she was just too overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the problem in Gotham. Previously, there was an unspoken agreement in the government that they wouldn’t notice Marigold. In exchange, rogues were calmer. Or at least tried to keep the death toll down. For a time, Gotham even started to slowly heal. But then, Elizabeth took the case of Marigold Isley. Ivy tried to fight. To protect her daughter. For three days, the city was held hostage by giant plants. It was only the fear in her daughter’s eyes that made Poison Ivy relent and let go. She didn’t want that life for Marigold. The one condition she gave was that the girl would leave America as a whole, to ensure she would be safe from all the madness. 

And so Marigold ended up in the care of baker’s couple in Paris. She never showed any powers thus far and the adoption agency kept the parentage a secret. That’s when Marinette Dupain-Cheng was born. She continued with martial arts training and stealth training, but now only as fun and reminder of her mother and extended family, as opposed to actual necessary survival tool. She also picked up designing as another hobby, which soon turned into a kind of obsession. She was generally a ray of sunshine. 

The one black spot in the happy world of Marinette was the Mayor’s daughter. Chloe Bourgeoise considered herself above others and just couldn’t stand sunshine girl. She ruined her clothes, sometimes damaged her homework, or verbally assaulted her. While Chloe was generally disliked, she was more of a nuance. Overall, Marinette was happy. At least until two events changed that. 

When she was twelve, Paris was attacked by Hawkmoth for the first time. Marinette found herself becoming Ladybug, a superhero with magical powers that protected the city from harm. She received a partner in form of Chat Noir. It took some time before she got hang of it, and then more time before she and Chat became an actual team. Over time, more heroes joined them, even if temporarily only. She had people she could count on. She became Happy again. 

Privately, she started her own brand: MDC, managed to become a class representative, and became best friends with Alya, who joined around the same time she became Ladybug. It was quite ironic. The superhero was best friends with one person whose greatest dream was to unmask the hero. Marinette also developed a huge (and a bit unhealthy) crush on Adrien Agreste, a famous model who was in her class. She spent years vying for his attention, but nothing ever came from her attempts. She was unable to even say a word around him and her face always became red like her mother’s hair. Overall, she couldn’t complain.

Then, when she was fifteen another black spot appeared. It was Lila (Liela) Rossi. She came to their school and immediately started sporting lies with every breath. Surprisingly, everyone seemed to buy into that, believing her like she spoke the gospel. Everyone but Marinette. She tried to expose Lila, but it only backfired. She became an outcast, disliked by everyone, and universally hated. Suddenly, it became okay to bully her because she was a bully herself and deserved it. It became okay to shun her and no longer include her in anything. The worst was Alya, her former best friend. At first, she just tried to nudge Marinette to give Lila a chance. When Marinette tried to show the truth, Alya practically attacked her. She was just as much responsible for Mari being cast out as Lila was. The fact that her best friend abandoned her only fueled the gossip and allowed Lila to drive the final nail in. In the span of a few weeks, Marinette was left alone. 

Around the same time, Chat Noir became more persistent in his pursuit of her while Adrien, who Marinette knew was aware of the lies, was only telling her to keep the high road (do nothing). She could understand him. As a famous model and son of a well-known fashion designer, he was always taught to not provoke the press. It still served as a wake-up call on her crush. 

--------

Marinette was packing her things after lessons when she noticed someone approach her from behind. Immediately, she tensed. After eleven years of martial arts practice, it was an instinct. Before she had time to turn around, something heavy landed on her desk with a loud Thud!. She turned to see Chloe standing over a large book, a single thick envelope, and a puffy bag that content Marinette couldn’t guess.

“What’s a…” She started, but Chloe cut her off. She had her usual ‘resting witch’ expression.

“The book contains every single instance I verbally assaulted you, destroyed something of yours, talked about you behind your back, or in any way otherwise did something wrong toward you. Here are the materials for the damaged clothes,” she pushed the bag toward her, “and here is money for other things.” Chloe gave her the envelope. “I apologize for all of that. I was jealous of all the attention you kept getting even though I thought I deserved it. I now realize that my behavior was wrong and hurtful. I will understand if you’ll never speak to me again. I kept acting ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” With that, she turned and started to walk again. Marinette idly noticed that there was no Sabrina nearby. Thinking back, Chloe was no longer acting (overly) mean toward anyone as of late.

Making a split-second decision, Marinette raced after the blonde and pulled her into a hug.

“Wha…” Chloe yelped before sinking into the hug. Neither girl realized they were crying until they finally separated. Blonde had her lite make-up in total ruin while Marinette had tears still going down her cheeks. “Does that mean you accept my apologies?”

Marinette didn’t answer immediately. She stood there with open mouth for a moment before smiling weakly. “Yes, Chloe.”

Since that day, they were best friends. It turned out to be a blessing. Chloe, once she finally allowed someone to truly know her, turned out to be a highly intelligent, funny, and very much still overbearing person. She still acted high and mighty, but it no longer felt mean, rather just… felt. She took to defending Marinette from the rest of the class. She was aware of Lila’s lies from day one but never acted on it until it was too late. Sabina abandoned her for the liar. Dealing with loneliness was hard on her. She didn’t even have parents that cared. Her father would probably move sun if she asked, but he had an emotional range of a toothpick. Her mother didn’t even know her name, so she didn’t bother.

Something about their friendship must’ve upset Lila because the girl upped her game. Marinette’s parents suddenly found themselves facing strong critique and constant inspection from the sanitary department and child protection questioning their parenting abilities. MDC, who was slowly becoming one of the go-to fashion designers for famous found herself in the middle of several fake media scandals, including one lawsuit over defamation. If it wasn’t for Jagged Stone and Penny rallying her customers, Marinette and her parents would end up broke. He managed to save MDC and practically made her untouchable. Still, Alya and Lila got off scot-free as nothing could be linked to them.

Perhaps what pushed Lila over the edge was Chloe confronting Adrien. She yelled at him for good two hours straight about responsibility and morality, pointing in detail exactly what he did wrong. She would probably go on if Marinette didn’t stop her. After that, Adrien finally apologized and tried to make things right, but it only turned against him. By then, Lila had everyone so deep into it, that he was powerless. She didn’t go after him as her partnership with Gabriel Agreste was too important, but she did tattle to the Fashion Mogul about it. Gabriel tried to get his son under control, but this was one thing that he couldn’t achieve. 

It did inspire a whole youth fashion line ‘rebel’, which became a global hit.

All this time, Marinette kept two secrets. One was her identity as Ladybug and the guardian, the other was her true name and family. Until she kept neither.

----------

Marinette returned home after another day at school. Recently, her mother revealed she was pregnant with another child, even though she was believed to be barren. Everyone in the bakery was overjoyed and the couple even started to hand out small treats to any guest that came. The free samples helped the business return to a better standing. 

When she entered, strangely there was no sound in the bakery. It was empty. Usually, her parents would both be very busy as it was still business hours. Slightly worried, she went upstairs. When she entered the living room, she found an envelope addressed to her. 

Isley

We tried, but we can no longer tolerate you. We turned a blind eye when we learned how improper you act, trying to drag every boy you meet for some, and we quote, “alone time”. We didn’t react to the bullying accusations, believing them to be overexaggerated. Even when you were expelled, we still had hoped you’ll turn out into a fine young lady. But now, we must think of the baby. Today was the last straw. Hearing about how you ruined that poor impaired girl’s birthday was both cruel and against everything we taught you. 

We held hope you won’t follow in your mother’s footsteps, but you proved us wrong several times. We supported your obsession over fashion, even with the drama it caused, because it was actually non-violent. At first, we didn’t want to teach you how to fight, but we convinced ourselves that you would have a way to vent the emotions somewhere away from us. 

Please, don’t try looking for us. We will probably have already left the country or even the continent. The bakery is yours. We don’t want to have anything to do with the spawn of evil such as you. 

We hoped you would turn out better

Sincerely,

Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng

Marinette tried to read it over and over again, but her eyes welled with tears. She had no idea she was screaming until her throat was coarse. Rationally, she knew she needed to keep calm or she would attract the Akuma, but emotions made her not care. 

Unknowingly to her, the plants all around Paris responded to her cry. They started growing and spreading, trying to get to their queen and comfort her. The Akuma that would’ve come for her stumbled into one of the vines, corrupting it. Hawkmoth was surprised, it was not something anyone ever seen in Paris except on TV or some strange Japanese shows that play after midnight. The more important thing was that even though he akumatized the plants, he had no control over them. He couldn’t even recall his Akuma. 

Back in Marinette’s living room, she started to feel the ground rumble. Soon, plants exploded from the ground and broke windows. She slowly looked at her hands to see them tinted with green. They were not the same as her mother’s, but close. She looked to the floor where pieces of glass littered everything. Her face was the same, but her hair became blue and her eyes were now the most vibrant iridescent green she’s ever seen, exactly the same color her mother’s eyes were. 

She started to panic even more. Tikki floated next to her, talking to her, but Marinette couldn’t hear her. Or maybe process it. She could hear the plants call to her. She could hear them speak. They promised her revenge. They promised retribution on those who attacked her. God’s wrath would rain upon them from the sky and hell’s fury would consume them from beneath. 

Impaired girl…

“Liar Rossi.” Marigold seethed. She knew there was only one person who would do such a thing. Only one talented enough to convince her parents she was a villain. If they wanted a villain, they would get one. Her mind was being clouded. Her clothes were already torn, replaced by a skintight outfit made of leaves, much like her mother wore. Then, Marinette remembered another part of the letter. She added a skirt made of purple petals that complimented her blue hair nicely and long sleeves that reached to her hands, ending with a triangle that reached her middle finger and surrounded it at the base. She left the decolletage as it was.

Exiting her house, she allowed the vines to carry her. There were only so many places The Liar could hide. First, she went toward School, as it was closest. She made plants carry her over the roof right into the courtyard while more of them broke the doors and blocked any exit. The fencing class was still going on, but The Liar was not there. She looked over the scared crowd, spotting two people she wanted to find. She needed to protect them from The Liar, else they end like her. She grabbed the fencer in a red outfit and her partner, knocking their masks to reveal Kagami and Adrien. The plants wrapped around them, forming a sort of cocoon before dragging them to the heart. Marinette then turned her sight to Eifel tower. She knew The Liar liked to drag the class there. 

As she moved through town, she passed the Hotel where Chloe lived. Pausing, she made the plants lift her toward the balcony. Her best friend was indeed there, right next to the lit-up Bee-signal. Honeystly…

“Marinette!?” The blonde jumped in surprise

“Marinette is gone. She should’ve never even been. I’m Marigold, the daughter of Poison Ivy.” For a moment, the fog thickened, but Mari shook it off quickly enough, before whatever caused it managed to get the hold of her. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng! If you got yourself akumatized, I’m telling my daddy!” Chloe shouted. Seeing the tears form in the iridescent green eyes, she looked at her friend with pity. “Oh, Mari! Is this the Liar again? Come here right now!” The blonde spread her arms for a hug. She didn’t care about the Akuma. Her friend needed her and she would help her conquer the world if she asked. Chloe owed Mari… everything. She helped her evolve beyond being the queen witch. In response to the gesture, the plants in the garden started to grow until they surrounded the two of them in a tight cocoon. Marinette stepped onto the balcony. She affectionately petted the vine that carried her so far before allowing it to return to its hunt for the Liar. 

“Chloeee!” Mari launched herself at the girl. She sunk into the embrace, allowing tears to start flowing again. She sobbed her heart out while pushing a piece of paper she constantly held in her clutched fist before. The blonde took it and read while patting Marinette on the back of her head. 

“Salauds! Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous! How dare that cochons! And the chienne! Wait till I tell daddy about this! Don’t worry Mari. I will protect you! I will ruin her! Merde!” The rant made Marigold pause. She never heard Chloe curse. Like… never. “But first. Mari. You know I love you and I would help you hide the body, but drop the Akuma. It’s making you look Ridiculous. Utterly Ridiculous! I mean the dress is so much spot on and so you, but the whole take over Paris is more my style. I can let you be my faithful sidekick while we take over the world if you want.”

For a moment, Marigold continued to stare at Chloe before she burst out in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t a nervous chuckle or the villain cackle, but genuine pearly laughter. It was just so… Chloe-ish. She couldn’t imagine anyone trying to dissuade an Akuma by offering to become a sidekick. 

“You… You… Never change Chlo.” Mari smiled at her friend. 

“Whoa. You… didn’t make me a fertilizer? I mean, of course, you wouldn’t. You are just too good of a person, but Hawkmoth…”

“I’m not akumatized Chloe.” Mari smiled. “It’s me.” As if to prove her point, she stood up and spun, allowing the blonde to see her from all sides. “This is how I really look. Apparently, I do take some after my mom.”

“Your… mom?”

“Pamela Isley, she was a famous biologist. Mom was brilliant. She used to be one of the smartest people in the world.” Mari praised. “There was this one accident that she is now famous for…”

“Pamela Isley? I remember reading about her.” 

“Yeah… She is…”

“Didn’t she create this environment-friendly line of cosmetics?” Chloe asked in her typical fashion

“Yes! I have no idea why everyone remembers her only for the ‘Poison Ivy’ thing!”

“I know, right?” Chloe nodded. “Wait a…”

“Tada!” Mari said weakly before trying to look away, doing everything not to look her friend in the eyes. The blonde gently grabbed her chin and moved it so she could look right into the beautiful green eyes of her best friend.

“Mari! If you think I would abandon you just because your mother took veganism too far… You’re utterly ridiculous!”

Marigold smiled slightly. Slowly, the green receded and her eyes turned back to normal. The dress remained, as without it she would end up naked and she didn’t fancy trying to explain to anyone that. 

She then turned to the plants and tried to order them to return to normal, only for them to resist. For a moment, her mind started to feel fogged, but it didn’t hold at all now. 

“As much as I like the scenery, maybe we stop the plantpocalypse?”

“Um… Remember how I told you I wasn’t akumatized?”

“Yeah?”

“I think the plants are…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Chloe shouted. “Listen here Hawkmoth! Get this Akuma the heck away! I don’t care about some fancy Jewels that will totally clash with your suit! I mean purple and white with red earrings? Are you colorblind?”

There was no visible reaction to the plants. 

“Strange…” Marigold ran her hand over the plants. “They still respond, just refuse to yield.” Inside, Mari cursed that she couldn’t consult Tikki.

“So… Want some cookies?” Chloe asked. “We just have to wait for Ladybug to save the day. At least the damage will be repaired.”

‘Except Ladybug it trapped here…’

Suddenly, something small and black slipped through the vines and entered their small peaceful enclave. It zoomed between items on the balcony, trying to avoid being seen. It would’ve been successful if Chloe didn’t know about Kwamis. 

“What was that!?” She shouted pointing at Plagg’s hiding place.

“What? I didn’t see anything!” Mari tried to lie. It was the one skill she never had. She did compensate for it by never getting caught.

“A Kwami! I’m sure I’ve seen one.” 

“Kwami? Who’s Kwami? Is that some bird? How would a bird get here? I mean we are trapped in…”

“Ugh! I don’t have time for games!” Plagg suddenly floated before the pair. “Chat is trapped and can’t help without revealing himself. Paris is being destroyed mindlessly and nobody can do anything as the vines are harder than steel.” The cat summarized. “And I’m hungry. Give me cheese!” He looked at Chloe. “Camembert would be the best, but I’m not that picky.”

“Why come to us? Ladybug took away my miraculous.” The blonde asked. 

“I didn’t come to you. I came to her.” The god pointed at Mari. 

“Me?! Why? It’s not like…”

“We don’t have time for charades guardian! The Akuma is out of control! Literally! Hawkmoth’s connection was somehow severed and now you have a giant plant that knows only the rage. This is serious!”

Mari wanted to protest or try to save some of her identity, but then Tikki floated out of her purse.

“Oh no! Marinette! He is right! We have a huge problem.”

“Why?” The girl asked resigned.

“You’re Ladybug!” Chloe shouted but was subsequently ignored

“Hawkmoth must’ve akumatized the plant, hoping to control you, but he had no idea it was sentient. But it stopped being sentient the moment you let it go. I… It never happened before.”

“You’re Ladybug!!!” Chloe shouted so loud that everyone had to look at her. 

“We can talk later. Now we need to somehow deal with the plants. Maybe… No. What about… But they are too tough… What if…” Marigold started to run through various scenarios and plans. 

“Can’t you just order them to expel the Akuma?” Plagg asked bored.

“It… It might work.” Mari had a focused expression. In her head, she was running through all her knowledge of biology, miraculous magic, and how her mom’s powers worked. Hesitantly, she walked to the edge of the cocoon and called the main vine to her. The wall spread slightly and allowed the tip of it to enter. Mari touched it and started gently caressing it. 

“you’re a good boy. Yeah! Who’s a good boy? You’re. Yes! You’re a good boy. But Good Boys don’t have Akuma. Do you want to be a good boy? Of course, you do…” 

Chloe stood there and watched how Marigold kept talking to the plant like it was a puppy. She felt something fall into her hand. Opening the palm, she saw two earrings.

“I… I can’t!” She protested, but Plagg floated before her eyes.

“She can’t do it. If Akuma escapes, we will have plantmagedon on a larger scale.”

“Fine. Spots on!”

Just as Mari finally talked the plant into expelling the Akuma, Chloe caught it. 

“Bye Bye Little Butterfly!” She released the pure white bug. “Lucky charm!” Chloe shouted. A red and black folder fell into her hands. She looked at it curiously. Inside, she found a complete set of adoption papers for her father to sign. She quickly pulled out the sheets and tossed the folder itself, releasing a swarm of ladybugs that repaired Paris to how it was before plants. The sheet stayed. 

Transformation dropped after that and Chloe handed the jewel back to the true owner.

“You still have sooo much explaining to do!” 

Nobody remembered about Adrien and Kagami being carried together to safety, which turned out to be Mari’s basement. And while Ladybug Cure should’ve restored them to where they were taken from, for some unknown reason they remained locked there until Mari returned late into the evening to spend the last night at the bakery. It would be some time until Tikki admitted that it was an act of revenge on Plagg for revealing her chosen’s identity. He had to go the whole day without cheese. The one good thing that came from it was that Kagami and Adrien had a long frank talk and ended up as friends. The relationship just wasn’t working.

----------

When Mari was adopted by the Mayor, she decided to keep using the Dupain-Cheng name at least for now. At first, Chloe’s father was against it, but once the girl presented it as a way of getting good press of mayor who personally looks after his citizens he practically ripped the papers to sign them. Although on paper he was the adopter, Chloe was the real parent/sister that took care of Mari. Lila seethed and spitted, but couldn’t really do much more. Adrien and Chloe roped Jagged Stone and Penny into Marinette Protection Squad. Luka and Kagami, who somehow hooked up, also joined. At some point, Mari entrusted Luka and Kagami with permanent Miraculous and Gave Chloe the Bee miraculous back. Some Fox illusion of Chloe publically applauding new heroine helped hide her identity. The hardest part was revealing to Chat, Viperion, and Ryuko her true identity. Adrien was a big surprise, but at least they finally dealt with their crushes once and for all. The fact that they were in love square in two people was way too awkward. Chloe and Mari did notice Adrien sometimes looking at Luka, but he was happy with Kagami. The only person that disproved of ‘Lukagami’ was Kagami’s mother, but she warmed up to him when he accepted the challenge to a duel and was completely pacified when she learned that Luka is apprenticing under Jagged Stone. 

Jagged and Penny wanted to Adopt Mari, but ended up filling the role of uncle and aunt. After some time, Mari realized that she rebuilt what she once had in Gotham. These people might not have been her family by blood, but it mattered little. That family might’ve been damaged, maybe even broken, but they were happy together. They found solace in one another. Once more, Marinette was happy. 

Until a trip to Gotham came knocking on the front doors.

NEXT

[formulatrash]

I think Alan jones is right 🤷‍♀️ Daniel sounds like some rookie, why was he so rattled by the replays? None of the other drivers said anything about it why the hell is he having a tantrum? It obviously got to him bc he had a terrible restart and got eaten up by the pack behind him, I know we love babying the drivers but thats weak. And whether we like it or not people want to see that stuff

I debated whether to post this because to me you’re very wrong but actually I think it’s good to think about these things. And to try to see it from your perspective, maybe because so many people seem to think this way.

It’s really difficult, as someone who’s sort of - oh, this is wank but like - speaking from inside racing, cus I watched the Bahrain GP from a media centre surrounded by team personnel, not to get incredibly angry at this. So I’ve sat on it for like a week to calm down and think how to discuss this properly because it would be too easy to get emotional. I do get there is a gap in perception, here.

Just because other drivers didn’t speak up about it doesn’t mean that they felt unaffected by the footage being replayed over and over. Attitudes like Alan Jones’ are what makes them suppress things they have every right to speak out on, professionally. They absolutely should have the right to agree whether footage of their or their peers bodies being mangled and broken is used again and again or at the very least, we should all accord them the respect to listen to their opinions about it and invite them to talk about it more. 

When Grand Prix racing was first on TV they’d show drivers burning to death in their cars while the race carried on around them; we obviously don’t think that’s right anymore, both the callousness to the drivers’ lives and to broadcast someone dying violently for the sake of sport but at the time, it was viewed as part of the character. The TV camera doesn’t have any inherent ethics, it’s just a lens but what we choose to frame in it is important. 

The viewer has a passive role in what you’re shown; you can’t select it. If it’s on the broadcast, there’s an inherent assumption that it’s ok to be on the broadcast, that this is a good or interesting thing to see. I don’t know if Liberty being an American company, where crashes are replayed a lot, lot more is a factor here but it felt very unlike modern F1 to replay it so many times.

The way that we portray the drivers and the role we give them in being able to decide that and consent to it (or to terms that they broadly agree to) should be empathetic. Because then it doesn’t come across as cheap repetition, that encourages every armchair FIA safety expert to come out with their own nonsense version of events - I understand car safety structures a lot better than twitteruser471 who reckons if Romain was a better driver he would have simply been able to not be on fire and I would never attempt to hazard a guess about what happened in a crash without proper information and data.

People are curious about things - I think it would have been best to have shown it once, after it was clear Romain was ok and then to work on preparing analysis, have a statement and timeline of events and what we know happened with it ready for the end of the Grand Prix. Knowing what happened lets people process something, endless speculation is a route to panic and well, literally trauma. 

The drivers are filmed as part of competing in F1 but the idea that that gives the broadcasters the right to show whatever they like without needing to justify it is wrong and part of the culture that gets bandied about that they should be willing to endure anything to be in the sport. Yes, being an F1 driver is a privilege but that shouldn’t come parcelled with signing away the right of FOM to traumatise your mum.

Let’s be clear on one thing: Romain survived that crash but until the FIA investigation is concluded, we don’t know whether that was because you could have expected him to or a total fluke. Safety systems such as the halo did their job but the crash itself was unexpected, unprecedented, none of the systems on the car were designed to work in those circumstances, they just - thank god - managed to add up into a series of tiny bits of luck that did. What you see in that accident isn’t someone dying but a few millimetres of change it it could be; it is a deadly-high-speed impact, it is a deadly hot fire, it is the absolute limits of what the survival cell and halo can bear and try to protect the driver inside.

That can seem difficult to understand because he got out. But getting out and it being fine are very different things. Every crash is dangerous, freak things can happen at relatively low speeds and without anything apparently dramatic - like Billy Monger and Jamie Caroline’s British F4 crash. 

Romain’s crash is a deadly one. What you are watching on the replay is a tiny, sliver-thin chance that a man lived or at least, wasn’t horribly, critically wounded. I’m not saying that to be dramatic or to over-exaggerate it: a 53g crash through an Armco barrier, with a fuel fire, just is that serious.

Lewis has spoken often about just how dangerous F1 is - and how little people realise it still is - and Lando and a couple of the others have spoken about how scared their families are when they go racing. Replaying something so, so, so close to being deadly to the point of, as Daniel identified, amusement, is tasteless to the people that worry about them - including themselves - and reductive of the risks.

I guess if you don’t know anyone who races cars you could view it as a video game perspective. It’s ok, Romain got out, we passed that level and now it doesn’t matter. For a lot of people, though, what you see every time is all the ways he doesn’t. Because that was an unbelievably close one - Romain himself has talked about believing he was accepting death as he sat in the burning cockpit.

The interview, afterwards, that most got to me was Guenther Steiner. He’s a hard man, who’s been in racing a long time and is performatively aggressive, unsympathetic, in many ways the stereotype of what a brutally pragmatic team boss has to be. He stood there on Sky last Thursday shaking and stutteringly incoherent, five days after the accident, not able to look at the footage - because he nearly lost his driver. 

Every single one of Romain’s team was watching that footage as it was forcibly looped over the screens in the paddock and pit lane. Yes, you are glad he got out - of course, that’s the most important thing - but knowing that he did doesn’t make replaying that and seeing how small the margin by which he did really was any less upsetting.

If watching the crash means nothing to you, it doesn’t mean that the people who are affected by it are weak. Everyone has a different understanding of things - you can not care what you’re watching or even think that it would be acceptable to watch a driver die but for the vast majority of people in the sport, neither of those things are considered ok.

[ghstandpucks]

Cutting Edge ~ Nathan MacKinnon Ch. 9

Hi everyone! I hope you are all doing well! Sorry this chapter took forever! But I hope you enjoy it! I have the rest of the series planned out, and it should be about 6 more chapters. I’m excited about where it is going and I hope you are too! Stay healthy, safe, and enjoy! Let me know what you think! Tags are open!

Prologue Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8

The following Wednesday you were at practice. Bednar had the team gathered in a semi-circle as he informed them of the upcoming schedule before the holidays. “Oh and Coach Y/L/N. In case you didn’t know, we are playing Anaheim this Sunday,” Bednar turned back toward you.

           “Oh yay!” you said, clapping your hands together quickly. You couldn’t help but be excited to see some of your friends on the Ducks again. As soon as you said that though, you had many unapproving looks shot at you from the team. “I mean, oh no?”

“Who are you really rooting for Coach?” Tyson called out.

           “You guys, obviously,” you stated flippantly. “I know how they skate and I know how their skating coach skates so we got this.” Bednar chuckled.

           “I was going to ask if there is anything we should know about your time with the team?” he asked, and you looked at him questioningly.

           “No?” you said, confused at where he was going with this.

           “Just asking. Hockey players make comments and I would like for us to be prepared if they say anything about you,” he explained.

           “Oh,” you said, and thought for a second. “To be honest, I was mostly just around them for a quick showcase, charity events, or galas that they had. I have a few good friends from the team but I don’t think they would really say anything. I was more like everyone’s little sister when I was with them,” you said and everyone nodded. “Oh! If you hear the term ‘little dove’, that’s me.”

           “Little dove?” Gabe asked, and you shrugged.

           “A few called me little duck at first. But then after a showcase at one of their events I had performed in this greyish-pink dress and Getzlaf started to call me little dove. The rest of the team just followed along,” you explained. You caught eyes with Nate, and he smiled softly. You had just told him about that nickname last week when he saw a comment on your Instagram post from Hampus Lindholm. You had posted a funny picture from practice of Tyson laying flat on the ice and you doubled over laughing at him because he had seemingly tripped over nothing. You accompanied it with a caption of how the team always seems to brighten your day with a laughing emoji. Hampus commented “We feel so betrayed little dove.”

           After practice that day, Nate was over at your apartment after having gone to the store to get stuff for dinner. You wanted to cook that night, so he thought it was only fair if he bought the groceries. Since the two of you had started dating, you tended to stay in at his or your place, not wanting to fuel rumors. A picture of the two of you dancing at the gala was posted recently, the media team not thinking much of it, but oh boy did it spread like wildfire. While your fans thought it was cute, Nate’s fans were a mix. You were starting to see how vicious some hockey fans could be.

           You were finishing the shrimp for shrimp scampi when Nate came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “I have a question,” he mumbled into the hair at the top of your head. You hummed, encouraging him to go on. “What do you want for Christmas?” he asked. You smiled, forgetting that it was already December.

           “Nothing,” you said simply.

           “There has to be something,” Nate stole a shrimp from the pan and you batted his hand away. He chuckled and kissed your cheek. You finished the dish, turned off the stove, and turned to face him.

           “Well, there is something,” you smiled up at him. Nate smiled back at you, raising his eyebrow in question. “A unicorn.” Nate’s face fell and you couldn’t help but laugh.

           “Seriously Y/N?”

           “Actually, in all seriousness, I want a unicorn that poops rainbows. But I know those are hard to find,” you laughed as Nate rolled his eyes at you. He maneuvered you away from the stove and lifted you onto the counter, standing in between your legs.

           “Why are you being difficult?” Nate asked, humor in his voice.

           “Well what do you want for Christmas?” you asked, smiling widely at him. Nate shrugged.

           “I don’t need anything,” he said.

           “It’s not about what you need. What do you want?”

           “Nothing.” Nate smiled mockingly at you.

           “You can’t say nothing and expect me to tell you something!” You laughed. The conversation went on like this for another 10 minutes, neither one of you giving in. You kept up with wanting a unicorn, much to Nate’s dismay. He knew he wasn’t the most romantic, and really wanted to get this right with you. Since he wouldn’t tell you anything though, you didn’t budge either. It seemed like you had both met your match when it came to stubbornness.    

           A while later, Nate had just got out of the shower and you were finishing putting the dishes away from dinner. As you turned your lights off and made sure your front door was locked, you looked out the window and immediately smiled. It was snowing. Running into your bedroom, you started to grab your big coat and a beanie, shoving your feet into a pair of boots. “Going somewhere?” Nate asked as he walked out of the bathroom, highly confused.

           “It’s snowing outside! Let’s go!” you squealed, throwing his shirt and sweatshirt at him.

           “This isn’t the first time it’s snowed since you’ve been here Y/N,” Nate chuckled, but continued to get dressed to go outside.

           “Yes, but it usually happens when I’m sleeping or at the rink! I haven’t been out while it’s snowing yet!” You bounced around your room, continuing to check the window to make sure snow was still falling.

           “It’s just snow,” Nate said, finally finishing putting his shoes on. You grabbed his hand and pulled him to your front door.

           “Yes, but I’m from Southern California! I always had to drive to the snow. I want to go outside while it’s coming down actually!” You grabbed your keys and left your apartment. Nate allowed you to drag him along, silently amused at your excitement. Luckily for the two of you, your apartment building had a secluded courtyard in the middle so you didn’t have to go out front to the main street. This allowed Nate and you not to worry about being seen together this late at night. That would definitely be the source of more speculation.

           Once outside, you giggled with excitement and ran to the middle of the empty courtyard. Looking up toward the sky, you stuck your tongue out to catch the snow as it came down. Nate walked up beside you and grabbed your hand. You took out your phone and had Nate take a picture of the two of you, realizing you really didn’t have any. What better way to commemorate your first snow in Colorado than with Nate? After spinning around all excited for a moment, you walked back over to Nate and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into his sweatshirt as your nose was starting to freeze. Nate held you close to him, looking down and tilting your chin up so you met his eyes. He chuckled softly at your red cheeks and nose, leaning down and fitting his lips to yours. The two of you stood there for a moment, lost in a blissful bubble you had created.  You pulled away slightly and shivered, the cold starting to get to you. Nate smiled softly and kissed your forehead. “Let’s get you inside before you freeze,” he muttered, taking your hand and leading you back up to your apartment. Once back in your apartment and in your pajamas, you crawled into bed and over to Nate who was already laying down looking through his phone. You cuddled into his side and weaved your legs with his.

           “Jesus babe! Your feet are freezing!” he jumped slightly, putting his phone down. You laughed but didn’t move.

           “Poor circulation from tying my skates too tight over the years. Sorry,” you giggled. Nate shook his head, but didn’t bother moving. If being with you meant dealing with cold feet, he didn’t think that was a bad price to pay.

~ ~ ~

           Sunday had arrived and it brought with it the Ducks. You were currently standing by the bench with the other coaches as the team was warming up. You had just finished talking with Bradie Tennell, the skating coach for the Ducks. The two of you were on the Olympic team together and had become good friends. She let you know that the team had been good to her so far, and that made you happy. You were leaning against the board when Ryan Getzlaf skated up to you.

           “How are they treating you, little dove?” he asked, and you smiled at the familiarity of the name. The question didn’t surprise you; he had always been protective. You were young and talented when you first started to skate in Anaheim, and some of the rookies took interest in you. Being so focused on making the Olympic team though, you barley noticed. The captain announced one practice that you were off limits, and they complied. After that it seemed the whole team had become extra protective of you.  

           “Good! They’re a good group. I like it here,” you answered honestly. He nodded and looked back out over the ice.

           “Is that why it looks like I’m about to get in a fight with 29 tonight?” Ryan smirked at you. You found Nate on the ice and smiled at him, and the tension in his jaw seemed to release as he went back to what he was doing. Nate knew you were friends with the Ducks and figured some may go talk to you; but he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy that they could talk to you so openly and no one would question it while the two of you had to date secretly.

           “He’s just protective like you are,” you tried to laugh it off, but Ryan gave you a look that said you were not fooling him. You smiled sweetly and he shook his head.

           “Whatever you say little dove,” Ryan said and skated off.

           “Be nice!” you yelled after him and he let out a laugh.

           “Will you stop fraternizing with the enemy Coach?” Tyson asked skating into the box.

           “Just for you Tyson,” you winked at him.

           Later, the third period had just began and the teams were tied. The whole game had been a back and forth with scoring. A few times when one of the Ducks would skate by, they would say hi, wave, or wink at you. The winking seemed to happen only when Nate was on the bench, and you were wondering if Ryan had said anything. You needed to work on being a better liar.

           Nate was on the ice when Hampus Lindholm skated by before a face off. “You know, we were all sad when Y/N left us to come here. I would think she’s a good coach,” Hampus judged Nate’s reaction. Nate side-eyed him, but didn’t say anything. “She’s cute too,” Hampus pushed a bit further. The Ducks’ captain had said that chirping about Y/N was off limits, but he had also said he felt it may get under MacKinnon’s skin. When you talked about being friends with some of the Ducks, Hampus was one of them. He didn’t want to be disrespectful toward you, but he thought it would be fun to see if he could push the center’s buttons. Nate took a deep breath and continued to ignore him. “You know she was my date to a charity event once,” Hampus continued. Nate did know this; you had told him you went as friends since you were going to the charity also. He knew it was nothing, he knew Lindholm was trying to dig at him, but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t bother him. When the puck was dropped, Nate threw himself into the defenseman, promptly flattening him out on the ice.

           Nothing was called and the play kept going, but you stood behind the bench with wide eyes. What had just happened? You were so distracted in your own thoughts that you hadn’t realized the buzzard had gone off, signaling an Avs’ goal. Turning your attention back to the team celebrating at the end of the ice, you saw them all gathering around Nate. Of course you had missed it. That was the only score of the third period, the Avs winning 3-2.

           After the game and interviews were done, you had said bye to some of the guys and Bradie. Nate had asked if you wanted to stay at his place that night, so you made your way to his apartment. You texted him that you were there, and he told you the front was unlocked. Upon walking into his apartment, he called you over to the couch where he was laying down and pulled you down on top of him. You gave him a quick kiss, then settled your chin on his chest, looking at him expectantly. “So,” you started. Nate knew where the conversation was going.

           “You really did just go to the charity thing with Lindholm as friends, right?” he asked, furrowing his brow a little.

           “Yeah, that’s all it was. Why?”

           “He said you were his date,” Nate shrugged and started to play with your hair, twisting and untwisting a strand around his finger.

           “As friends. I have no feelings for him whatsoever,” you explained, then realized why he was asking you to clarify. “Is that why you hit him so hard during the game?” Nate averted his eyes from you, slightly ashamed he let what Lindholm had said get to him. You giggled, knowing that was the issue. “Nate, babe. There was nothing there, nor will there every be anything there. And that goes for the rest of everyone. Don’t let it get to you okay,” you said, kissing him softly. You pulled away and rested your palm against his cheek. “Plus, he’s not my type.” That perked Nate right up.

           “So, what is your type?” he wrapped his arms around you with a smirk.    

           “Big, burly, 6-foot Canadians with blue eyes who are just as stubborn as I am,” you smirked at him. Nate rolled his eyes, but laughed and pulled you in for another kiss. He flipped the two of you so that your back was to the couch now with him hovering over you. Nate started placing quick kisses all over your face and you giggled as his stubble tickled your neck. The two of you stayed like that for a while longer before ordering take out and getting ready for bed.

~ ~ ~

           The holidays fast approached, and you were thankful the team had four days off for Christmas. You had already booked a flight back home for the morning of Christmas Eve, and would be flying back to Denver on the morning of the 26th. For you, going home was easy as it was only a two in a half hour flight. You had booked it when you first got the schedule back in September. You were starting to feel bad that not everyone on the team would be going home though, Nate included. If you had known that you would have been in any sort of relationship, you may have opted to stay as well. When you brought this up to Nate, he told you not to worry about it, and that he would even take you and pick you up from the airport.

           On the 23rd, you and Nate had just got back to your apartment after having dinner with everyone who was still in town. Since there were multiple people going, you figured nothing would come of it to be seen out with Nate in public. The two of you were still keeping your relationship from mostly everyone on the team, so it was easy to act like you had been at practice. To anyone who didn’t know, it just looked like you two were good friends.

           You showered and put your pajamas on, setting out your present for Nate on the coffee table and finding a movie to watch while he showered. You had settled on watching a Hallmark Christmas movie, because who doesn’t secretly love the cheesiness of it all? Nate sat down next to you on the couch and pulled you into his side. Placing a blanket over the both of you, you settled into watching the movie, pointedly trying to ignore the Christmas gift bag he had set down on the coffee table next to your gift to him.

           After the movie, you turned the tv off and just enjoyed being in each other’s company. The only lights on were the Christmas lights from the fake tree you had set up, and other Christmas lights you had decorated with. Your apartment looked a bit like Christmas exploded in it, but it made you happy and Nate laugh. You made some hot chocolate, and sat back down facing Nate. Handing him his, you took a sip and set your mug down on the coffee table, in turn picking up your gift to him. “Present time!” you sang, handing him the gift. You weren’t sure what he would think of it, realizing it was difficult to buy for someone who seemingly had everything he wanted.

Nate unwrapped the gift, and smiled upon taking it out of the box. It was a wooden watch, one that you had found on Etsy. It was a dark stained wood that you had engraved on the back of the watch face. As Nate turned it over in his hands, he smiled wider and chuckled. You were able to convince the designer to engrave a hockey skate and a figure skate. Above the skates read “Merry Christmas” with the year, and both your initials. “I know you already have a watch, but I thought the wood was neat and I was excited when the person said they could engrave the skates on it, and…” you were cut off from your rambling by Nate pulling you into a sweet kiss.

“It’s perfect Y/N. Thank you,” he whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead and admiring the thoughtful gift. He set it down and handed you the gift bag. You smiled while you took the tissue paper off the top, feeling fabric at the bottom of the bag and took it out. You laughed, seeing the familiar burgundy and blue. Holding it out in front of you, you saw the 29 on the arm, turning it around to see ‘MacKinnon’ on the back. While you unfolded it though, a smaller box fell into your lap. “I know you can’t wear it to games, but I wanted to get you my jersey,” Nate explained as you slipped it on over your pajama top.

“Thank you,” you said, blushing slightly and turning your attention to the box. Opening it up, you saw the most beautiful, small and delicate figure skate charm you had even seen. It was gold with diamonds encrusted into it. Taking it out of the box, you noticed it was attached to a delicate gold chain as a necklace. You turned it over in your hand, feeling something on the back of the charm. You giggled, noticing a ‘29’ engraved onto the back.  “Nate, it’s beautiful.”

“I thought you could at least wear my number to games this way. If you don’t like it we can go get you something else,” Nate looked at you unsure, and you shook your head.

“Help me put it on?” you asked, and turned around. Nate deftly clasped the necklace together. “How does it look?”

“Perfect,” he said, and you grinned at him.

“I love it, thank you,” you said, and leaned in to kiss him. What was an innocent gesture quickly turned heated as Nate pulled you onto his lap, you straddling him. Your fingers carded through the hair at the nape of his neck as his hands pushed the hem of the jersey and your pajama shirt up, gripping your hips. You pulled back after some time, needing to take a breath and maneuvered yourself to where you were sitting in Nate’s lap and leaned your head on his shoulder. Nate chuckled, kissing your forehead.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you can’t wear my jersey to games. I don’t think I could concentrate,” he mumbled. You giggled and pecked his neck, the both of you settling back down.

The following morning Nate drove you to the airport. Thankful for his tinted windows, you kissed him quickly before anyone would figure out who the both of you were and grabbed your bags. “Merry Christmas Nate,” you said, slipping out of the car.

“Let me know when you get home, okay?” he said with a soft smile, and you felt your heart tug at the thought of leaving him for a few days. It struck you that this was the first time since September you wouldn’t be around him almost every day.

“I will,” you returned his smile. Nate quickly reached over the center counsel for your hand, bringing it up to his lips.

“Merry Christmas Y/N,” he said lightly, realizing the same thing you were. You grabbed your bags and smiled, waving as you shut the door and headed into the airport. Nate made sure you were inside the building before he took off, not being bothered by the honks he was receiving from annoyed holiday travelers.      

Tags: @bqstqnbruin​ @avsfans95​ @comphybiscuit​ @calesykar​ @andreiaafaria​

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 1

Rating: Explicit. 18+

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Bad girls are sad girls! Always wondered what goes through the mind of a spoiled, rich but intelligent and perceptive teenager? Have you found yourself craving that adrenaline rush, the danger of a forbidden fruit? Okay. That was cheesy as hell. Gross.

Let's try again. Sarcasm? Check. Vine references? Hell yes! Crude humour? Check. Blunt honesty? Double check. We're living in a Lana del Rey song, ladies.

The author doesn't actually condone codependent relationships in real life. This is a filthy little fantasy. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub​ @mostly-marvel-musings​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves all the love 💙

Pining. I was pining after Stark and it made me upset. I thought I was better than that. Better than acting the part of a lovesick puppy, begging for scraps of attention- a kind word, a pat on the shoulder, a blanket thrown over me in my sleep. Even if he was my Mount Olympus, I wasn't exactly on board with starting the whole damn journey in the first place.

Most of all, I hated being a cliché. I tried my best to avoid showing how I felt and with time, I think I excelled at it. I am really good with things if I really put my mind to it. Was it a blessing, or was it a curse? Only the future will tell. I try not to think about it, as I prefer not to stress out too much. Peter was the anxious kid and I was the calm one. I was the Ying to his Yang. He flipped his shit often and I always calmed him down and cleaned up after him. No complaints there, Pete is pure and precious and I would kill everybody and then myself if he actually got hurt.

I'm only a year older than him and that year feels like an uncrossable bridge to me. We get along like a house on fire and I delight in the way he starts smiling when we're paired together for a project. Deep inside I'm sure he thinks of me as one of his best friends, his homies but-and there's always a but-I can't reciprocitate that. He goes to decathlon after school with his wholesome BFF duo, I go to a local dive bar with a fake ID I'd made sometime when I was about 15.

Peter has everything I wish I've ever had. Good for him. I'm not going to mess that up, no matter how much my angst demands I throw a tantrum and become, like, a supervillain or something.

I banter, instead. I chit-chat. I laugh and I repeatedly make a joke out of myself. Nobody suspects a thing, and I'm not surprised. People always see what they want to see. I've been the weird loner since middle school. Not the sad kind, of course, my pride wouldn't let me. I'm too good at things to be completely ignored. Teachers adore me, the event planning committee approaches me every year with tentative pleas for advice. The list goes on and on; what they don't understand is that it's just High School. Another year and I'll be out of there and nobody will be wiser.

I feel like a liar every time I'm excited. Because I'm not that - I don't care about their stupid field trips or collaborative projects. My mind is five steps and two hops ahead of that bullshit. It has to be or I just won't make it in the world.

"Parker-pen, Mr. Stark. G'day, sirs," I nodded, entering the lab, looking straight ahead. They both were hunched over... Something vaguely mechanical and I was terribly, horribly hungover. Saturday night was Science night but I'd gone to bed around 2PM after a party ran way too late.

"Hi," and "Powerpuff girl," came from them respectively, and they didn't even lift their heads.

I wondered if I could just skedaddle and leave them to their big brain time. "Is this a bad time? I can come tomorrow instead," I immediately regretted speaking, even to my own ears my voice sounds scratchy.

"No, actually, Dr. Ban-Bruce-wanted to talk to you," Peter mumbled out half-coherently. Tony kept ignoring me and I was fine with that. The less temptation I have the less trouble there will be.

"I'm not playing with his zucchini again," I groaned, causing the intricate pile of metal to squeak sadly as Pete tripped over his own damn body, jostling the prototype in the process. I could have sworn the room got several degrees hotter from the boy's blush alone.

Tony cackled, shuffling away from the newly ruined prototype. "He won the damn contest, you should've seen the judges faces," The engineer's grin threatened to split his face in half. I poked at my phone in muted interest. "Hold up, Friday has a recording. I definitely recorded the thing."

A holo-screen popped up. Tranquil scenes of a local fair, gourds and other assorted vegetables of various grotesque sizes were scattered throughout the square. An unmistakable mop of curly greying hair posed proudly next to a zucchini half the size of Hulk - I was fairly certain genetically engineering the plant was cheating and warned him so but somehow Banner managed to persuade the judges into letting him participate, and ultimately win, the competition for the Biggest Zucchini. Some of them were quite shocked at the size of that thing and well - well, their glances were quite contemplative to say the least.

"Damn, Tony, that blonde chick's face tells me all I need to know," I gave a lopsided smirk in the engineer's general direction. That was our thing, you see? He called me these ridiculous cutesy nicknames and asked me about getting my nails done or going to the mall and I'd make salacious comments and go on an occasional flirtatious spree. That was comfortable. We both enjoyed making Peter blush and giggle like the little schoolboy that he was.

"Our Brucie bear is a freak, don't let him tell you any different, Princess," Tony winked at me.

"Oh, I know all about it, Tones," I suggestively wiggled my eyebrows. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter groan and palm his face. I briefly bumped my knuckles to Tony's outstretched hand and made my way to the adjacent lab that hosted the second resident crazy scientist.

"Bruce?"

"Oh, hi there, come on in," He smiled warmly at me and I relaxed, shrugging off the tension in my limbs that seemed to appear every time Tony was around me. Banner's soft, friendly nature always made me feel welcomed and appreciated.

We made small talk as I threw on a lab coat and some protective glasses and discarded my bag in the far corner, away from any possible explosions. I congratulated him on his recent victory - here is when I say that despite what most will say, Banner has a serious competitive mean streak and isn't afraid to get down and dirty when it comes to matters of his personal pride.

That's what makes us alike, I think. I have too much dignity and self-respect to walk around Tony with stars in my eyes and hang around his neck like yesterday's tie.

The quiet, even pace of doing lab work made me completely lose track of time. Some time passed as I felt the crick in my neck become noticeable, and the deep ache in my calves from standing and dancing yesterday worsened. I hopped onto the nearest table, hunched over a tablet, eyes skimming over research articles - most of it didn't register at all in the wake of a dull throb behind my temples. My hair limply hung over my face - I had to wash it to get rid of the stench-hard liquor and cigarettes - but I was way too lazy to style it properly.

I ignored the swaying strands until a large palm gently tucked them behind my ear, a white lab coat coming into my field of view. "You okay?" Banner's quiet voice interrupted my reading. I lifted eyes enough to see he was wearing a dorky button-up in some gross shade of blue under the lab coat. His eyes were affectionate behind thinly rimmed glasses.

"Rough Friday night?" He questioned.

I chuckled. "Yeah, I'm hungover as fuck." There was no point in hiding the obvious; I'm sure the bags under my eyes already had tattled on me.

He chuckled, too, leaning his hip against the table, one broad arm coming to wrap around me in a hug. Usually he wasn't so touchy-feely; but I wasn't complaining. Banner was really, really warm. "I'll spare you the lecture on underage drinking," He said with another chuckle.

"Yeah, it's pretty pointless. You'd be three years too late."

A deep sigh left him, both of his arms wrapping around me in a comfortable embrace. I rested my chin on his shoulder, trying my best to really avoid showing how touch-starved I was. I was a hundred percent sure they all figured out my family life was difficult; the last thing I needed was their pity.

"Y'know, we should sit down and talk someday," He said after a brief moment of hesitation. "About your future. College, maybe?"

I gave a non-committal hum, basking in the warmth of the hug, staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes - behind the glass divide, I could faintly distinguish Tony's and Peter's shapes, still bent over that bench the pile of metal.

"You have a lot of potential," Banner continued, his tone developing a gently admonishing hint. "I understand if you want to take some time off from your studies but I'd rather you succeed and not let all that potential go to waste," He finished, patting me on the back with a gentle hand.

I tried not to preen under his touch. "Are you attempting to guilt-trip me over a party, doctor Banner?" I teased him, expecting the smile that I felt being hidden by my hair. Sometimes I felt that I could read the man like an open book, he was so earnest about his interactions.

"I just - we want you to stay safe, okay? Don't blow your future for a little bit of fun," He shrugged carefully.

"Okay, Bruce," I simply replied, meaning it this time

He kept hugging me, running his hand over my back absentmindedly. Probably thinking about his recent science bender. I wasn't upset: my own brain tended to get tangled in personal projects, too. I had only one complaint and it was that the cuddle was making me sleepy.

I yawned, startling the man. Pulling away from the hug wasn't really an option. He was broad and quite strong, probably courtesy of the Hulk and radiation in his blood.

"Why don't we put you in a guest room for tonight?" He inquired and I nodded. "Call your parents for me, okay?"

"My mother is in Vancouver for the week and I doubt she would care anyway," I rolled my eyes. "She's in the middle of some shitstorm with OsCorp and their marketing department." If anything, I was grateful my mother was preoccupied with her job. Being around her was like hanging out on top of an iceberg in the far end of the ocean.

I felt Bruce's frown. His body tensed briefly, blink and you'll miss the hunch of his shoulders. "What about your dad?"

I cringed. "He's been in Ibiza since the season opened, no doubt snorting miles of coke and... " I hesitated. "You can guess the rest."

My dad was kind of a dick, but I don't blame him at all for being the way he is. My parents have been married for twenty years. They were happy, once - I saw their college pictures with my mother's bright smiles and bushy hair, and my dad's terrible fashion sense and their dog, a funny little runt with an atrocious name. Then mother had me and for a while, they were happy too, but it lasted about until she landed her first prospective job. Kind of cliché.

Bruce sighed again. "Okay. You hungry?"

"No, I'm not going near food until tomorrow. Nu-uh," I fake-retched next to his ear, making Bruce shiver and playfully pinch my side.

"It'll help with your hangover. Doctor's advice."

"You're not even that kind of doctor," I laughed, very gently poking him back, somewhere around his stomach. He squirmed.

"I have seven PhDs," Bruce smiled as he rested his chin on top of my head as he adjusted his torso to prevent my fingers from reaching his ticklish spots. I poked him again in retaliation, fully enjoying the snort and squirm I caused. Soft™. "Let's go get you settled in," Bruce, seemingly without any difficulty, picked me up, propping me against his hip like a toddler. It probably looked awkward but what the hell, I haven't been carried around since I can remember myself. My legs wrapped around his hips for balance, butt resting on his forearm.

"You're a showoff," I couldn't help but snort, getting a lopsided smirk in return.

He made his way over to the elevator with me dangling and examining my nails in an expectant fashion. Tony's jokes aside, I really enjoyed getting them done and weird colors were a quest of entertainment for me. I obviously couldn't have them very long because I worked in a lab so I chose outrageous prints and decorations instead. This week, each of my nails had a different style - thankfully my aesthetician was professional enough to make it look somewhat put together even if it took a good chunk of my allowance and an hour long Uber ride to get to her salon.

I noticed the dimmed lights in Tony's lab and none of Peter's usual mess scattered on the tables, figuring he'd already left. Stark himself stood propped against a table, watching something, smoothie in hand.

For only a brief moment, I let my eyes rake over his body, his beautiful, sculpted physique hugged by a pair of fitted jeans and an old Led Zeppelin tee. Tony's handsomeness wasn't obvious, it wasn't in-your-face kind of appearance like Captain America's, but the engineer was built sturdy and his arms - the only bare part of him - were riddled with scars. He used his strong, bulky body for work.

I turned away before I got too ahead of myself. Bruce smelled like lab equipment and rubbing alcohol, something that made me sober up and snap out of my daydream before Stark took notice and started teasing me about ogling him. My once-over lasted barely three seconds yet with Tony's genius, I always had to be on my toes.

I saw movement in my peripheral. Banner waved before entering the elevator - at Tony, probably, so I looked back, seeing the man watching us, content replaced with a contemplating frown. I waved at him, resting my cheek on Bruce's shoulder. "Tony's having a big mood," I noted quietly in the scientist's ear.

"You know Tony," Bruce sighed, adjusting his hold on me as the car ascended to the housing floors. "His brain runs a mile a minute and he can't make sense of it for the biggest part. Give him some time and he'll be back to his annoying self."

I didn't see Tony as annoying in any way, but then again, I was severely biased. The billionaire was quirky venturing into absurd but also clever and brilliant.

We had reached our destination and Bruce carefully set me down on my feet once the door to my room was open. A large queen bed, TV and another door to an adjacent bathroom. It was really simple but luxurious nonetheless - I had the exact same carpet at home, having heard my mother bitch about it's cost after seeing me spill soda on it way too many times.

"I'll let you get settled in. Ask Friday if you need something," Bruce awkwardly shuffled his feet, taking off his glasses and briefly examining them before putting them back on again. "Breakfast here is on the 74th floor starting around 7AM, someone will probably get you around nine if you sleep in," He finished, giving a shy tilt of his lips.

"Thanks, Brucie-bear," The nickname easily slipped from my lips. I didn't resist the urge to hug the kind scientist, quickly wrapping my arms around his middle, delightfully sighing when he immediately returned the gesture.

"Good night, Princess," I had to suppress a happy squeak when the man kissed my forehead before retreating and closing the door behind himself. A quick shower and a quest to find a power outlet to plug my charger into preceded my less than graceful flop into the bed. It felt like sleeping on a cloud, honestly, it had nothing on my mother's orthopaedic memory foam mattresses. I passed out faster than I’d ever had.

[ayzrules]

✶ 𝐇𝐗𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒: 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 & 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 & 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   Long story short, I have been thinking about this for wayyyyy too long now and wanted to get some ~thoughts~ & analysis written down! This post is going to be...fairly long, lol. Apologies in advance :D

  Also, if you can’t see the last gif (the one for ‘holy’), click here. Tumblr keeps fucking up the image when i try to upload it :////

  This post is probably going to be about 2/3 yorknew & phantom troupe/kurapika focused, 1/3 chimera ants, maybe with some references to other arcs (including manga-only arcs) mixed in. so, ofc, tons of spoilers ahead! also, i realize that my blog theme is hard to read (and i’m p sure clicking ‘keep reading’ sends you to the og post itself), so i’m linking the post w/ full text copy/pasted in on my art backup side blog (which has a more legible font) here. 

✶ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇   I’m sure absolutely nobody is surprised with me starting here - there is just. SO. MUCH. DEATH. in hxh. & right from the start, one thing I noticed that togashi really emphasized was the #4 and its connection to death. in japanese, chinese, and im p sure some other asian cultures the number 4 is pronounced like the word for death so it’s associated with death in general, and boy oh boy does the ‘deadly number 4′ thing show up E V E R Y W H E R E. we get to the hunter exam, and hisoka is applicant #44. kurapika is #404. i didn’t notice it at first, but this was so intentional holy shit. togashi is NOT SUBTLE.

  So pika & hisoka are, right off the bat, associated with death. okay. and then there are even more clues to drive the point home: hisoka is member #4 in the phantom troupe, kurapika’s birthday is april 4th (aka 4/4). 100% not a coincidence (!!). with hisoka, it’s pretty obvious why togashi’s throwing all this death 444444 stuff around - dude is a psycho murder pedo clown, literally gets off on killing people (and there’s also the fact that judas sits 4th from the left in the last supper painting, and he’s sort of the judas equivalent for the phantom troupe). with kurapika, though, it’s a bit more subtle and woven deeper into his characterization, which i LOVE. togashi puts the mans in blue & gold & white (traditionally ‘pure’ or ‘heavenly’ colors), makes him so fucking kind & so good-hearted.....when he’s not relentlessly pursuing his revenge, ofc. more on this in the next section, but pika = death. togashi has made that v v v clear.

  Backtracking a bit to hisoka, though, I also just wanted to point out the 4 is death symbolism in the fortunes too (GOD i love the fortunes): in one translation, he’s the false fourth moon, and in the og japanese (i think), he’s the false hare (4th in the lunar zodiac or w/e it’s called. i don’t know the japanese cultural influences here, but in the chinese legend that established the zodiac animals, they race across the heavenly river & the top 12 animals got zodiac slots. the hare finished 4th, so it’s #4 in the cycle). 

  And just as a final note, Tserriednich is the fourth prince of the kakin empire, and also another dude who has a hard-on for murder & other gory shit. again: togashi is not subtle with this, lmfao

✶ 𝐇𝐎𝐋��, 𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐘   As probably everyone who’s gotten to yorknew knows, togashi is so 0 fucks given when he wants to be. I mean there’s the whole thing where he just. took New York and decided, Yorknew. LMFAO, but also, he made the main antag of that arc be named chrollo lucilfer, sit around in a ruined church, have a reversed cross coat, pale & dark-haired/dark-eyed, generally dressed in dark colors, very terrible murder guy. liiiike......chrollo x devil symbolism game is 1000/10 at this point lmaooo

  And i know absolutely nothing about christianity in general, but pt/kurapika & yorknew arc is just so full of christian imagery/symbolism! one thing that i L O O O O O O V E though is how togashi really blurs the traditional christian-coded good/evil, holy/damned boundaries.

  Back to kurapika: he wears gold and blue, his coloring is very stereotypically ‘angelic’, he’s precious and good and kind. his chains are all about ~judgment~ and ~healing~ - some of the chains are also in literal cross shapes, aren’t they? And the chain dagger in his own heart...the imagery is very startlingly similar to the immaculate heart of mary, where the swords stabbing thru the heart apparently represent seven sorrows. IDK much about this stuff other than the visual similarities; literally had to google ‘daggers through heart christianity?’ to even get the name of that thing LOL. anyway, at first, it seems like togashi establishes him as the ‘angel’, the ‘good’, the ‘holy’ in the angel/devil, good/evil, holy/damned dichotomy between him and chrollo.

  But that’s not the end of the story. his entire storyline is driven by a huuuuuuuge giant desire for vengeance, first of all, and then there’s the scarlet eyes, which canonically are seen as demonic/cursed/what have you (according to one of the movies or smth? where they show pika as a 10 y/o?), and then we also have red eyes in modern culture being associated w pretty much the same thing (vampires, anyone?). the fight scene with uvo has everything in b&w besides the blood on his face & his red eyes & the moon (<<< more fortune foreshadowing & symbolism, i love to see it), and there are tonssss of scenes where he has to suppress his rage. so all of that is obviously not very angelic of him i would say LOL. in fact, what i find super interesting is that the scarlet/red eyes (which are ‘demonic’) is actually the driving factor behind his super powerful nen abilities; this ties in so well with the fortunes & death associations imo! the fortunes call him the ‘death-bringer’ in one translation, or ‘half-angel, half-death’, so that’s one side of pika = red eyes = death, but there’s also the fact that emperor time is literally draining his life force. so pika = death for both himself and others namely the pt, question mark?

  Now for chrollo: togashi’s devil symbolism is EXTREMELY overt with him, but i love the subtler jesus references too. the church thing, obviously, and the st. peters cross which is cuz st peter respected jesus too much & didn’t think he was worthy to die in the same way as him (or something like that, i am the most atheist person in the world & hxh is literally my entire christian education pls) but is also used as an anti-christianity symbol these days. bandit’s secret looks like a bible, lbr, and mans has a cross tattoo.

  Other things beyond visuals - 12 spiders, 12 apostles; hisoka’s betrayal, where member #4 can be thought to correspond to judas sitting 4th from left at last supper. and this miiiiight be a bit of a stretch, but i think the meteor city being the place of origin may also play into the blurred line between angel/devil and holy/damned here; meteors are defined as space rocks that are in earth’s atmosphere, becoming incandescent in the process. meteorites are for the kinds that actually reach the ground. and idk, lucifer was cast out of heaven / sky too right? so i think there might be some subtle fallen angel imagery/symbolism playing into the pt as well

✶ 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒)   Last section yay! i don’t have as much to say about this, besides when i was making chimera ant arc edits & realized that there might have been some subtle gon/meruem parallels???

  So obviously, everyone knows that line killua says to gon - “you are light” - and then i was just remembering that meruem’s name means.... “light that illuminates all” (!!!!). maybe it’s a coincidence, but knowing togashi, i’m leaning towards nahhhh. there HAS TO be some kinda meaning there (!!).

  Going back to the events of the chimera ant arc....ooh boy. let’s see: gon is optimistic & hopeful even in the face of kite potentially being dead, killua says he’s light, they find kite & dude is fucked up, gon is pissed. gets all angry & ~dark~, especially during the palace invasion when he’s staring pitou down as she fixes up komugi. then the actual fight against pitou: more darkness, more anger, but through it all there’s still light, namely his jajanken being very orange & fiery lookin.....and that final sequence, where he puts all his possible nen he’d ever have into his ~final form~ or wahtever & turns into a male version of true form!bisky but dressed in a crop top & short-shorts (i am SCARRED, btw. s c a r r e d !). there’s just huuuge flashes of light as that’s going on, and it reminded me of supernovas or dying stars when i was thinking about it, where the star is like, collapsing under its own weight? & burning thru its own fuel, until there’s nothing left except a dwarf or black hole or what have you. one final, extremely deadly burst of light & energy before death.

  On the meruem side of things: born into a dark cave, exhibits a traditionally evil/cruel/wicked/whatever personality/traits so that has ppl associating him with darkness. then he gets to know komugi, starts to appreciate other aspects of humanity, seems like he could have actually turned into a decent person who doesn’t want to eat everyone - so that’s a ‘path to light’, maybe? - and then the extermination team yeets themselves into the palace, netero takes him out to bumfuck nowhere, they fight. netero’s fighting is just ALL light, from his giant ass golden 100-type guanyin bodhisattva to the poor man’s rose. again, there’s the sense of finality to it all, in a similar vein to dying stars: netero comes in determined to kill meruem no matter what, and we all know netero doesn’t flake. then we see netero get destroyed after the zero hand, and he triggers the rose, and everything is burning & on fire before the flames are put out and all turns dark again.

  But wait!!! pouf & youpi revive meruem and all he does is play gungi with komugi, even with the poison of the rose. he eventually dies, and the gungi pieces in that final shot of them together (i am BAWLING just thinking about it holy shit) has one that’s all white, one that’s a black ring and white inside. i assume all white is for komugi, who has never done ANYTHING wrong in her LIFE, so i like to think that the 2nd one is for meruem - born “into darkness”, literally & figuratively, but he turns something like ‘good’ by the end. it’s interesting how togashi has sort of gone for a bit of a subversion here: the hero going from light to darkness, and the main antag from darkness to light.

✶ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍   AahhhhHHHHHhhh so if you read all the way down here through my LONG rambles, tysm! i would LOVE LOVE LOVE to hear what other people think about all this, and i’ve FOR SURE missed tons and tons of stuff - chimera ants is just. SO MUCH. and i don’t know it as well as yorknew eeek.

  I’m not sure if i’m really ~knowledgeable~ in any other areas relating to hxh, so this might be the only one of these that i do, but i definitely think about some of this - esp all the religious symbolism & #4 stuff - a ton! so in the meantime, if it’s of any interest, i’m just going to shamelessly plug my hxh x religious beliefs/superstitions edit series :D lots of love to all!!!

[sanoiro]

Lucifer Meta: “Choices”

“Choice is a funny thing…-“

Those were Dad’s words not mine back in 3x26. Before P2 dropped I was always saying that episode should be considered one of the core episodes if we wanted to understand S5 and Dad as a whole.

“Give someone different options, different circumstances, will they themselves end up different?” -Dad in 3x26

Lucifer S5 P2 spoilers ahead (I will add more screenshots later on)

I always liked the idea of Lucifer having a choice although his vulnerability theory of mine back in S2 was born out of a different thought.

But angels self-actualise however that applies to wings, a face and powers. In Michael’s case it was his posture as broken as he felt. Otherwise how we could explain that only he tried to urge Chloe on killing him but was rather docile when he believed he would face an immediate death.

Now what we didn’t know is that Gods also self-actualise. Therefore it is a genetic trait if you like. So let’s take this concept when we study Lucifer.

Lucifer has made his own choices over the years and the choices he made were the ones that brought us to the events of S5. However something doesn’t add up. Like yes, he chose that face in Hell because of his shame and how he viewed himself. Lucifer admitted it in 4x08 and Dad confirmed it as well in 5x11. So what is the two things amiss? Well one mostly throughout the series? His glowing red eyes.

The majority of the fanfiction out there express his eyes as an evidence of his Devilness, a connection to Hell while I believed for a very long time it was a manifestation of him being the Lightbringer but what does that constitutes?

Back in S2 Mum constantly calls Lucifer her ‘Lightbringer’, Lucifer lights up Azrael’s blade alone fleetingly when angry at his mother in Trip to Stabby Town. When the Medallion of Life is put on the blade his pain over Chloe flames it up for several seconds before it stops. Only when Lucifer assembles the sword, the medallion and the binding element, also known as Amenadiel’s jewelry. But there is again something amiss. Lucifer does flame it up in 2x18 but Mum’s words suggested that with all the pieces gathered she could do it herself. In a sense it is how Michael did it. No lightbringing power needed but what is that power?

I’m sure you remember back the finale of S3 where Lucifer’s face is licked by fire, his Devil face shows and his eyes glow red. Cain then agrees with Lucifer that ‘You cannot escape what you are’ moving forward in 5x16 Lucifer says I love you to Chloe and he is set on fire very much like he did in S3. Then we see a light we have associated mostly with Mum and Chloe wakes up.

So let’s think of this.

Lucifer apparently since his birth is known as the Lightbringer for no apparent reason. He lit the stars sure but only Mum and Dad are adamant on calling him that the only two beings in the universe that were omnipotent and above all? Omniscient. But they had a pitfall. Not even Mum could see she would be sent to Hell. That leads us to believe that there are choices which lead to as Uriel said to ‘patterns’. Different choices, different patterns. A thousands paths we can take but we cannot which one eventually will be taken and probably Dad and Mum held an optimism.

So let’s assume that when it came to Lucifer they knew one thing. That he had the ability to become a God - perhaps that is why Mum searched for him as he was also a key on changing things, if he became God then essentially she had won but she knew his potential. Now that’s another interesting thing…. Potential.

Dad in S5 tells Ella that the darker the darkness the brighter the light. In Lucifer, Dad mournfully notes that his son has so much light it blinds even him (aka Lucifer).  Perhaps what we as perceived as unseen darkness -even him- is, in reality, a blinding light. Like a torch, you have no idea how to adjust your eyes to and everything seems like it's not light but darkness. So Lucifer had to go from being blinded by his own light to target it outwards in order to light the room. That was his potential. 

Lucifer’s potential for goodness had to be harvested as was his ability to love. He liked humanity, respected them to a point, loathed them to another. Still does actually. But here is the thing. Potential think of Lucifer like a piece of coal or a battery whatever suits you best. Coal can be used to start a low grade fire that can spread from there but by itself it is but a black piece of nothing. So what if what we witnessed in the past five seasons was Lucifer being a slowly burning coal?

Let’s go back to Pops in S1. Lucifer is vulnerable when he takes Chloe out of the flaming restaurant and although he was burned he managed exceptionally well. In S4 he gets out of the exploding building albeit Chloe is far away and his clothes are not burned… Now let’s go to 5x10. Funny if you think that Lucifer manages to stop the chemist flame from burning which is weird as yes he stops the oxygen source to the flame so it us put out but two things happen. One his sleeve gets burned but it is also put out once the flamer does. Lucifer blames it on the polyester mix when we know he does not wear any and if he does it should have spread more.

If Lucifer was completely invulnerable then his suit would have been fine like it was in S4. Sure we have seen bullets not hurt him but have an issue with his clothes but to quote 4x02, it’s all about fire not the suit-superman effect.

Now in 3x23 Lucifer realises that Chloe does not need him but she choose to have him in her life and as such he is willing to leave his 2x12 miracle knowledge behind. In 5x06 Chloe talks about vulnerability which is based on a choice of Lucifer to be vulnerable around her. But with that choice to forward their relationship in 5x07 Lucifer is also making the choice subconsciously to expose himself to her emotionally and physically. At that point that choice stops his vulnerability probably because there is nothing to fear from her anymore. His vulnerability per 5x10 made him felt something he self actualised physically the vulnerability he felt but when she accepted him in her heart and stared a physical relationship his exposed himself differently emotionally.

Therefore Lucifer is still by choice vulnerable to Chloe but not physically as now he is in a healthier place. He opens up to her he is giving a conscious choice to be vulnerable to her while his body stops this stress induced self actualisation -perhaps- of being physically vulnerable. When he is hurt he shows it, he tells her what is going on even if it takes some time. Perhaps at the kitchen at her apartment Chloe didn’t draw blood from his body but certainly did from his soul and he allowed that.

When Mum in S2 said that Chloe was the key she was correct but not for lighting up the flaming sword but lightening up Lucifer. Lucifer needed to reach the point of choosing to be emotionally vulnerable around her and realising he was capable of love and that he loved Chloe, loved humanity.

In 5x16 when Lucifer is starting to burn up, most I’m sure went back to Michael’s words of Lucifer burning to the crisp if he went to Heaven as he was banned. But here is the thing Lucifer made a sacrificial move like the kid in 509 did for the family business. The ring simply bought him time. Lucifer left Heaven but I do not believe he was banned from there or at least I believe that Heaven had a safety net. We saw that even Gods have limitations so let’s think of this:

If Lucifer had listened to Mum and went to heaven the ring would have bought him some time but eventually he would have been either expelled or died(?). Again there are many things to consider here:

-What does it mean to be a God? Is it about power? Is it about being a Creator? Is it about the choice to become a carer? Lucifer became a carer in Hell albeit a rather unconventional one and as we may see things will change.

-Dad and Lucifer have a common thing they love humans and humanity in general. No other angel aside from Amenadiel and only due to his son does do far and in Amenadiel’s case it is not unconditional.

-The fact Lucifer was willing to be God not just for Chloe but because the system was rigged and he loved humans like Daniel and thought that he had to protect the innocent or at least provide a chance for a second chance.

-The song in the end when Lucifer is presented as a God, we listen to the Klergy sing that in a sense it was always mean to be.

I know I have been all over the place but let’s return to the whole lightbringer Lucifer now. So remember Dad when he gets angry. He is meteorologically inclined. In the family dinner and not only there we hear a thunderstorm rumbling close by, lighting ominously lit up the room in a way that Lucifer’s eyes light up in a very eerie yet calm way in many instances, in Le Mec’s case included.

There was always something brewing in Lucifer so when he gets to Heaven, with the same attributes Dad had and to a very different level, Lucifer experiences a metamorphosis. Now Mum and Dad didn’t have physical bodies but Lucifer did. Dad as well Mum in S5 provided us with a manifestation of a human body but they were not born in a flesh like celestial body like their kids did. So when Lucifer gets in heaven he is experiencing what Mum did in S2, he bled light but in a place of souls not on the earthly plane.

Again Lucifer’s body changes but he is not a ‘flesh sack’ as Mum puts it like Charlotte’s body was in S2 for Mum. He is still Lucifer that’s still his body but when Lucifer gets to Heaven he makes a choice again not just a throne to save humanity but his own life which of course leads us to the passage of the Revelation. 

In the end, Chloe was the key and fuel for the coal to lit up to a full blazing fire. Not bad :) I mean he lit up Heaven long before he took off his ring ;) 

“I choose you, I love you”

Michael, the Dragon & the ‘Virgin Mary’. But that’s a meta for another time, one that I have written in the S&S but will be updated for S6.

“And no matter how badly you want to nudge them in the right direction You know they need to find it on their own.”

[cavalierious-whim]

Love, Misunderstood (FE3H)

Sylvix | Modern AU | Fake Dating | Teen So, here’s the thing: Felix doesn’t date anyone that isn’t his sabre.

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A/N: I wrote this for the Sylvix Server's Secret Santa Event last year. Read here on AO3 for better quality! And follow me on Twitter here! @Satodee1 on Twitter drew an AMAZING fanart for this fic as well! I cannot believe I've been blessed so. Please take a look here and give them a follow!

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Let go the fear of falling in love.

#

So, here’s the thing: Felix doesn’t date anyone that isn’t his sabre.

One, there isn’t time. By day he’s almost a professional athlete with dozens of fencing titles to his name, and by night he’s a business student double majoring in Marketing and Finance. His days are full of workouts and conditioning, a carefully maintained diet, and when the sport isn’t on his mind, his academics are.

Two, there’s no interest. None. Whatsoever. Felix has never once looked at another person and thought, Yes, I would like that one.

Which brings him to his current problem: there’s an annoyance in his face that some might think is pretty if they liked overly bleached hair and heavily lacquered nails. Gum pops in her mouth. She twirls a long tendril of hair around a finger like the love interest from a nineties sitcom.

Felix doesn’t just hate; he loathes and despises. Less so the girl and more so at being perceived as a romantic option. He feels as though he does a pretty good job selling the fact that he’s entirely off of the market, even going as far as snarling at hopefuls. Apparently, some people are just infuriatingly stubborn.

Or maybe just oblivious. Felix is starting to lean towards the latter, watching carefully as the girl stares back at him, dreamily.

“So, like,” she says, punctuating the words with a giggle, “I’m a big fan. Of you and you know, your fencing.”

Felix is a hundred percent sure that she has no idea what she’s talking about. What he says instead is, “I’m studying.” Neat and simple, and not even mean. Hopefully enough to fend her off. He’s almost proud of himself.

She blinks at him like she’s trying and failing to process what he’s just said. “So, that bout last weekend,” says the girl, relentless in her pursuit. “You really honed in the touches, winning before the time limit.”

This surprises him; maybe his earlier assessment is incorrect and she’s honestly a fencing fan. Felix meets her gaze and she stares back, smacking her gum, hair still wrapped around her finger, and eyes glinting.

Right, no, she’d just done her research.

“Thank you,” says Felix because he’s not entirely an asshole. “But as I said, I’m studying, so if you would--”

“It was truly riveting,” continues the girl, clasping her hands before her. “Your form is just exquisite.” She says the word like he’s a prized pig.

Felix is losing his patience, his fingers tightening around his pencil and squeezing tighter and tighter. It might snap under his grip. It’s happened before.

“Look,” says Felix, his tone hardening just a modicum, “I appreciate--”

“So, how about grabbing a bite to eat together?” asks the girl, batting her eyes at him in an exaggerated flourish.

Felix opens his mouth to say something rather nasty, but he’s interrupted by someone dropping into the chair next to him. “Darling.” An arm finds its way slung around his shoulder and Felix goes rigid. “I’m sorry that I’m late; got stuck in traffic. You know what rush hour is like.”

It takes everything for Felix to not grab the man’s arm and break his wrist.

Before he can do so though, the man looks to the girl and says, “A bite to eat? All of us? Group dates are always fun.”

The girl, to her credit, looks about as flabbergasted as Felix feels. “Um--”

“Unless you meant alone with my boyfriend?”

Felix immediately starts, turning to look at him incredulously. “Boyfriend--”

“My mistake,” the girl apologizes immediately. “I didn’t, um, realize that you… Anyway, thank you for the chat!” And with a wave, the bleached-blonde bimbo takes her leave.

Felix whirls onto the man next to him, immediately shrugging out of his grasp. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The man is lightly tanned, cheeks dusted with a spattering of warm freckles. His hair is auburn and unruly, curling wildly around his forehead and ears. His smile is crooked, a dimple forming at the left corner of his mouth. Handsome, if Felix likes people. He doesn’t, he reminds himself.

“Saving you,” the man says. “Really, she just wouldn’t let you go. It’s astonishing really, I could feel the leave me the fuck alone vibes radiating off of you from across the shop.”

Felix blinks at that. “I didn’t need help.”

“I think that you did.”

“I didn’t,” repeats Felix, unable to let go of his stubborn need to get the last word in. Glenn used to say that it was the best and worst part of him.

“You could have just told her no.” The man pauses, thumbing at his chin as though he’s amused. “You don’t seem the type to be nice and gently let someone down.”

Felix isn’t; he’s the type to throw books at people instead, and be brutally blunt about what he does and doesn’t want. “I was distracted,” he finally says, “I’m studying for an exam and she just caught me off guard. I promise you, had I been on my game I would have done far worse.”

The other man cocks his head to the side, watching him, and Felix already hates the calculating gaze. “You really go all in, don’t you?” he asks. “Just no fucks given as to what people think about you?”

“I’m not here to date, I’m here to go to school.”

“How boring,” says the man.

“I like boring,” says Felix.

There’s a beat and then, “I’m Sylvain.” Sylvain holds his hand out for a shake. Felix stares at it as though it might bite him, but Sylvain waits patiently. “You owe me at least yours.”

There isn’t a chance in hell that this man doesn’t know who Felix is; his face is plastered across every Garreg Mach University billboard this side of Fodlan. Still, Felix has been raised with manners and he can hear Glenn rolling over in his grave.

Felix hates manners but sucks it up.

“Felix,” he says finally, still ignoring Sylvain’s hand. “Thank you for the help, but I don’t need it. Now leave me alone. I don’t have time to entertain jockstraps like yourself.”

Sylvain eventually puts his hand down and watches Felix for a long moment. Felix doesn’t like the slightly amused grin that seems permanently attached to his face. “Got it,” says Sylvain eventually. He stands and throws his bag back over his shoulder. “Then this jockstrap will take his leave.”

Felix almost feels bad, prompting him to say, “My appreciation is honest. If you hadn’t stepped in I might’ve snapped the girl’s neck instead.” He expects him to run off at such vivid imagery, like so many do.

But instead, Sylvain just throws his head back and laughs, before leaving him be.

#

“Do you like Adrestian Barbecue?”

This one cuter than the last, pert little nose and wavy locks of brown framing her face nicely. Felix still isn’t remotely interested. “I’m studying,” he says, trying his best to sound at least polite. He’s not very good at it, but the woman pays it no mind.

“This’ll only take a moment,” she says. “I’m wondering if you’d like to go get lunch or something? There’s a great new place that’s just opened up off of Twenty-Fourth Street, and--”

“Babe,” someone cuts in, leaning over Felix’s shoulder, their cheeks barely inches from each other. Sylvain, Felix’s mind supplies before being annoyed that he’d remembered. Felix hadn’t seen him in the shop for a few weeks. Sylvain to his credit doesn’t sling his arm around and immediately drop into the chair without permission, he just hovers next to him. Waiting.

A slight improvement.

“Sylvain,” says Felix. Then pauses, unsure how to continue. He swallows and then, “You’re late.”

Sylvain chuckles. “Traffic.”

Felix huffs, a little emboldened. “That’s the excuse you used last time.”

“And it’s still true,” says Sylvain.

“Um,” says the woman who’s been interrupted. “I was trying to ask--”

“My boyfriend to lunch,” cuts in Sylvain. “Yes, I saw that. I can barely get him to go out with me, what makes you think that he’d have a go with you?”

Felix’s eyes nearly bulge at the aggressive raking. Sylvain seemed like a nice man the last they met, but perhaps Felix has underestimated him. It sounds like a jab straight from Felix’s book.

The woman’s mouth falls open and she gawks but quickly recovers. “Right,” she says. “My apologies, I’d thought-- Never mind that. Have a wonderful day Mr. Fraldarius.”

Felix cringes as she turns and walks away.

“Mr. Fraldarius,” drawls Sylvain, falling into the chair next to him. “I really do have a habit of coming to rescue you.”

“I didn’t need to be rescued,” says Felix, acerbically. “It isn’t my fault that you insist on butting in where you aren’t wanted.”

“So, you wanted to go grab lunch with her?”

Felix closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and lets out a frustrated grunt. “Absolutely not.” Sylvain doesn’t say anything, just watches him with unwavering patience. Eventually, Felix says, “Look, I appreciate your willingness to help, but--”

“You know, I could just pretend to be your boyfriend and they’d leave you alone for good.”

Felix blinks and then he scowls. “What?”

Sylvain shrugs, noncommittal. “You study here nearly every day. I study here too. I finally stepped in because you seem to get attention all of the time and it does nothing but annoy you. Seriously, people have no boundaries.”

Felix wants to tell Sylvain that he has no boundaries either, but decides not to fuel the fire. Instead, he says, “There’s no reason for you to help me, you would gain nothing from it.”

“Some peace and quiet. Do you know how hard it is to focus on schoolwork here when women and men are trying to approach you? I come here for the quiet, not to watch the latest episode of Blind Date.”

Sylvain has a point; the people who approach him tend to be rather loud about it. Felix thinks about the proposition for a moment. “No,” he finally says. “You don’t have to study here. Go elsewhere.”

“It’s preferable to my dorm,” says Sylvain, not bothering to elaborate. “And, I think that’s why you study here as well. You hate people and would do anything to avoid them entirely. Even if it means studying in public.”

Felix cringes because Sylvain’s nailed it on the head; the general public is less invasive than Ashe is. His roommate is nice but needlessly curious. “I don’t need your help.”

Sylvain opens his mouth to answer but stops when the barista comes by their table. “Felix,” he says, smiling kindly. “I’ve brought you a refill, yeah?” He drops a take-out cup to the table. “Just let me know if you want more.”

Felix nods, his lips quirking the slightest bit. The boy has always been nice to him and unfussy. “Thank you,” says Felix, genuinely.

The barista leaves and as Felix reaches for the cup, Sylvain raises his eyebrows. Felix’s mood immediately sours. “What?” snaps Felix acerbically.

Sylvain points to the cardboard sleeve around the cup. Felix turns it around to find the barista’s name and number written in curling script. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” says Felix. But, at least the barista has the decency not to accost him publicly. Felix rubs at his forehead.

“Say that I take you up on your offer,” starts Felix, already wanting to pull them back, “what are you expecting in return?”

“Nothing,” says Sylvain. Felix meets his eyes, narrowing his gaze as he watches him carefully. “Honestly,” continues Sylvain under the scrutiny. “I also like to study in peace, but I don’t like to sit at tables alone. I work better when there’s someone else there, even if it’s not to talk.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” says Felix.

“So is every person on this campus thirsting after your mangy ass. It’s a mystery to me.” Sylvain bites back just as hard as Felix, it seems. Felix respects that, if only slightly.

“Fine,” says Felix. “But only because I’ve got tests coming up and I’m tired of being bothered.”

“It’s a deal then,” says Sylvain. “We study and pretend to be dating, reaping the benefits of a quiet and quaint coffee shop.”

“You’ll have to be convincing,” says Felix.

“So far, it’s worked.”

Sylvain holds his hand out to shake on the deal and Felix looks at it warily. Then, with a resigned sigh, he takes it. Sylvain’s hand is wide and warm, and it makes Felix want to pull away. He hates closeness and doesn’t do well with physical contact. When they part, Sylvain smiles and then finally drops his book bag from his shoulders, settling in.

Felix hopes to the Goddess above that he’s not making a mistake.

#

Felix wants to hate Sylvain on mere principle, but they fall into an easy companionship. Felix hates it, hates that he doesn’t dislike Sylvain. But, Felix doesn’t quite like him either, and it’s the last thread of hope that he hangs on to.

A week into the charade, Felix is still stunned by the fact that Sylvain actually studies. He expects Sylvain to joke or flirt incessantly. He hasn’t; Sylvain’s quiet when they sit at their table in the corner of the coffee shop, nose-deep in a math text.

Felix’s gaze narrows slightly when he reads the title. “You’re taking Calculus III?”

“No,” says Sylvain, eyes not leaving his book. He flips a page, looking bored. “It’s a prerequisite, so I’ve already taken it, but sometimes I have to revisit.”

“Already taken it?” Sylvain taps another textbook to the side and Felix’s eyes widened. “Ordinary and Partial Differential Mathematics?” Felix can not for the life of him, think of a degree that would require a course like this.

Sylvain hums. “Yeah, it’s my required math for this semester.”

“For a jockstrap like yourself?” The nickname has stuck and so far, Sylvain hasn’t stopped Felix from using it.

Finally, Sylvain looks up, eyes crinkling in amusement. “I like math,” he says simply, “and I’m good at it. It’s an easy course for me.”

Felix isn’t sure what’s easy about math that he doesn’t even grasp the purpose of, but Sylvain’s only proven himself to be a weird man at his core. Sylvain looks at Felix’s book in return.

“Statistics,” says Sylvain. Felix has a distinct impression that he’s not remotely impressed.

“A requirement,” says Felix. “If I had a choice, I wouldn’t take math at all. But it’s part of a Business degree.”

“Business.” Sylvain snorts. “What a boring degree. Aren’t you here for fencing?”

“On a fencing scholarship, yes. There’s no future in a sport, though.” Felix narrows his eyes at him. “Something that you should probably learn.”

Sylvain’s got the build of a footballer, though, so Felix knows that he’s likely on that track. But, Sylvain doesn’t really talk about himself much, let alone his schooling. He has a tendency to watch people carefully with a gaze that’s far too knowing.

Felix never likes that look, like Sylvain’s mind is far away and thinking. A thinking Sylvain is likely a dangerous Sylvain. It’s always the ones you least suspect. Glenn would have been best friends with this dolt.

“What?” says Felix, annoyed.

“Nothing,” says Sylvain, turning back to his textbook.

Felix frowns but doesn’t push to ask more.

As the weeks pass, things shift from a tentative, peaceful study, into an actual friendship. Felix wants to hate it; a large part of him wants to loathe it because he doesn’t like people, nor does he like it when people admire him in return.

But, Felix has learned in their brief time together that it’s not all bad. Not every person who is friendly with you wants something in return. Being a Fraldarius has severely skewed the way that he views the general public, but Sylvain seems to have no idea what his roots are, thank the Goddess.

It’s led to a low-key relationship, full of quiet jokes and genuine care. Felix grudgingly accepts it.

Like always, Felix finds Sylvain holding their table in the corner, a cup of coffee already ordered and waiting for him. Bernadetta’s handmade mugs might be odd and a little bizarre, but they serve drinks all the same, even if it loses its heat more quickly.

Sylvain once berated him for his wasteful use of to-go cups and Felix relented without much of a fight. Much to his irritation.

“One large red-eye, black as your soul,” says Sylvain, pushing the cup towards Felix. “I think he threw in an extra shot this time.”

Felix grunts, noncommittally, drops his bag to the ground and slumps into his chair. The mug is hot to the touch, so it must be fresh, and Felix leans over to inhale deeply. Sylvain makes a gagging sound which causes Felix to glare at him.

“No judgment,” says Sylvain. Then he pauses. “Actually, a lot of judgment because only stone-cold dicks can drink that dredge--”

“Go back to the field,” snaps Felix, before taking a sip. It’s dark and bitter as it burns through his veins. Perfection, really. Sylvain just has bad taste.

“Always with the jock references,” says Sylvain. “At least you haven’t called me jockstrap yet.”

“Apt name for someone like yourself.”

Sylvian blinks. “What does that even mean?”

Felix huffs. “An athlete, you dolt.” He takes another sip. “You make fun of my sport enough that it's only appropriate that I do the same.”

Sylvain is quiet for a long moment and then he bursts out laughing. “Wait, wait,” he starts. “You think I’m an athlete? Why?”

“You're built like a footballer,” says Felix. “Infuriatingly tall and broad.”

“Not to say that jocks are dumb, or anything, but with my courseload what makes you think that I even have time to think about playing a sport?”

Felix thinks for a long moment, coming to realize that even with their burgeoning friendship, he knows next to nothing about Sylvain. He’s easy to get along with, they’ve fallen into an easy routine and Felix even finds that studying flies by with little to no thought by his side. Something about Sylvain’s quiet presence in the coffee shop makes it easier to focus.

Still.

“Wait, you don’t?” asks Felix. “Why didn’t you ever say--”

“I thought that you were just insulting me, I didn’t think that you actually thought that I--” Sylvain stops, laughing again. “I’m sorry, this is hilarious. It shows just how bad you are with people. Pure comedic gold.”

“You said you were on scholarship!”

At that, Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, an academic one. Astronomy and Astrophysics.”

“Astrophysics?” blurts Felix incredulously.

In retrospect, it’s painfully obvious, he thinks. Suddenly, the textbooks of differential calculus and other various maths and sciences he can’t pronounce make a hell of a lot more sense. He reaches out, lifting the book that Sylvain’s currently working from, eyeballing the title.

“Steller, Galactic and Extragalactic Astronomy,” Felix reads. Then he moves to the next. “Statistical Quantum Mechanics.” Felix meets Sylvain’s sheepish gaze. “You aren’t joking, are you?”

“I’ve wanted to understand the planets ever since I saw Star Trek as a kid--”

“Are you really basing your degree on a television show that you watched growing up? One that isn’t even that good?”

Sylvain’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, you did not just disrespect the best television show to ever have been created.”

“I’m not having this conversation,” says Felix. “I have an essay for Business Statistics, and it’s going to be hard enough to focus knowing that you’re doing experimental math over there.”

“Theoretical math,” says Sylvain, coyly correcting him.

“Whatever,” hisses Felix. “Honestly, being a footballer would be less annoying.”

Sylvain frowns slightly. “Than being smart?”

“What?” Felix scowls. “No, that isn’t what I meant. I don’t give a rat’s ass how smart you are, but really, Sylvain-- Star Trek?”

Sylvain lets out a long breath and Felix realizes that he must be used to being judged. Sylvain doesn’t have the typical look of a scientist when you think about it. He’s handsome and well built, looking like he spends more time on a beach than a mechanics lab.

Felix has the decency to be at least a little bit embarrassed for assuming, not that he’d publicly admit to it.

“Look, just go back to your book,” says Felix. “I’ll go back to mine. And if I have any math questions, I’m going to expect your help.”

At that, Sylvain lets out a little chuckle, different from his usual boisterous laugh. It takes Felix a moment to realize that it’s a genuine moment from Sylvain, one where he’s let down all those walls he’s carefully put up.

It seems that he’s even more guarded than Felix is, something of mild interest. If Felix took an interest in things. He doesn’t, he thinks, but it’s more like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Alright,” says Sylvain. “But I don’t know how much help I’ll be. Simple math confuses me more than this does.”

What a ridiculous thing to say, but it’s not as annoying as the way that Felix’s mouth twitches into a near smile.

#

In the aftermath of Felix’s assumed snafu, Sylvain makes irritating strides to get to know Felix better. Irritating, because Felix has come to learn that he likes spending time with the genius of a chump, be it lunches between classes, or dinner after their study session. A variety of low-commitment activities that are usually full of small talk that Felix is angered he doesn’t hate.

“Just to be more convincing,” said Sylvain, doing most of the talking like always. Felix was inclined to agree, considering that Annette told him that Sylvain wasn’t his type and the idea of the two of them together seemed frankly, odd.

“I don’t get what the issue is,” says Annette, one day that seems like eons after Felix struck his deal with Sylvain. It’s past winter holiday and creeping into the spring, warm enough to catch a snack at the crepe stand after Annette’s yoga class. “Are you bothered that you like to spend time with him?”

“No, that’s not--” Felix pauses. “I’m not good at making friends.”

“We’re friends,” says Annette, shoving a mouthful of crepe into her mouth.

Felix wants to remind her that they met after she asked him to dinner, and it was the one time he’d said yes. It lasted about thirty minutes before they both decided dinner was a bust and went bowling instead. Annette kicked his ass, looked pretty while doing it and he’d felt nothing in return.

Instead, he says, “You're persistent.” It’s half-hearted and he doesn’t really mean it, but Annette’s cheeks puff up anyway.

“Oh, Felix! You’re evil,” huffs Annette, but she never stays mad at him for long, turning her attention back to her food.

“Sylvain is… different,” says Felix, as they sit down on a bench.

Annette nods sagely. “I mean, yeah, isn’t that why you like him?”

“He’s sufferable.”

“I mean, I’ll admit, he’s an odd choice and definitely not your type but--”

“Wait, Annette,” says Felix. “Do you think that I actually like him? As in romantically?”

She blinks at him, confused. “I mean, don’t you?” asks Annette around a mouthful of food. She’s never been very ladylike, but it’s a breath of fresh air at the end of all things. Normally it would endear Felix. But.

“ What?” snaps Felix, eyes immediately narrowing. “Of course I don’t, this entire thing has been a ruse to get people to leave me alone.”

Annette chews at her food thoughtfully for a second and then says, “But you enjoy spending time with him.”

“I’ve made that apparent,” says Felix. “It vexes me.”

“You’ve admired how smart he is.”

“Infuriatingly so, but it’s useful when we study.” Felix pauses. “Don’t tell him that I said that.”

“You spend your free time with him,” says Annette, gesturing at Felix with her crepe. “This is the first time I’ve seen you face-to-face in like a month, but you go out of your way to see him every day.”

At that, Felix starts, mouth snapping shut as he thinks. Annette’s right, he does go out of his way to spend time with Sylvain. And if they can’t meet properly, it’s texting. Sylvain’s usually the one to greet him in the morning with a corny horoscope that neither of them believes, but still laugh about. And Felix is usually the one to say goodnight, even if it isn’t warranted.

It feels wrong if they don’t share words at least once a day.

“Annette,” says Felix.

“Hm?” hums Annette, cheeks bulging around the last bite of her crepe.

“Am I in love with him?” It’s rhetorical, of course, and dreadful in tone, but Annette answers anyway.

“Would that be a bad thing?”

“No,” says Felix, mouth parted in awe as though the heavens had just been explained to him. Or, Sylvain explained theoretical warp theory and Felix finally understood it. That’ll never happen, but--

“I love him.” The words come easier than he expects and they fill him with unexpected warmth. He wants more of it. He’s also afraid of it, but if there’s anything that Felix is good at, it’s striking something head-on with force.

He hasn’t lost a fencing match in nearly three years.

Annette, blessedly, is quiet for once, just watching him process his feelings. And when he’s done, when Felix comes to his conclusion, she asks, “Do you feel better?”

“Yes,” says Felix, and it’s honest and true, and strangely welcome. He hasn’t felt this good in years. Certainly not since Glenn passed.

“Good,” says Annette, “Now go kiss him.”

Felix’s answer is dumping the rest of his crepe directly into her lap, the loss of his snack well justified.

#

Because Felix’s life is apparently a romantic comedy, he expects things between him and Sylvain to become awkward.

It doesn't. In fact, everything is disgustingly normal. They keep their study dates, emphasis on the study part. Sylvain still greets him with his coffee order, and on the few occasions that Felix beats him to the shop, he greets Sylvain with his ridiculous white mocha, extra whip.

There are a few differences, Felix supposes.

When Sylvain leans over to help with a math problem, Felix turns to him. They meet eyes more often than not. Felix willingly covers Sylvain’s dinner, which raises an eyebrow because he’s notoriously stingy.

But, if Felix seems off, Sylvain never mentions it or broaches the topic. It’s aggravating, how easy it is to just keep to the routine. And it’s not that Felix doesn’t want more; ever since his talk with Annette, he finds himself entertaining the idea further.

He’s done a lot of thinking. Sylvain’s handsome, there isn’t a doubt about it, but that’s not what pulls Felix to him. Sylvain’s smart as a whip and doesn’t mince his words. And yes, he puts walls up and dances about things personal, but Felix does the same.

And lately, Sylvain’s started to pull those walls down, comfortable in Felix’s presence.

No one’s ever comfortable around him and Felix is struck by how much it means. Feelings are hard and love is even worse. Felix isn’t quite sure that it’s worth it.

But, he hasn’t written the idea entirely off.

“Felix?”

Felix blinks. “I, er--”

Sylvain’s mouth tugs slightly downward at one side. Concerned. “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

“Fencing,” blurts Felix. “The big tourney coming up.”

“You mean the one two weeks ago?”

Okay, so, Felix has been more distracted than he cares to admit. It’s all Sylvain’s fault. “Sylvain, it’s nothing. I’m just tired. School is draining. The usual.”

“Tired,” says Sylvain, unconvinced. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed and watching Felix carefully. Curse Sylvain’s perceptiveness and his ability to look right through people.

“Look, Sylvain--”

“Felix Fraldarius,” drawls another voice. They both turn to find a familiar face framed by bleach blonde hair and twirling a lock around her fingers. There’s the snap of gum in her mouth as she chews open-mouthed and unflattering.

Immediately, Sylvain is on the defensive. “Hey--”

“Hold it, golden boy,” says the girl, “I know you aren’t really dating. Heard it one day after you grabbed a bite to eat.”

Sylvain’s face darkens. “Have you been following us?”

The girl makes a face at the accusation. “Ugh, as if. It was a coincidence, I swear, but what a wonderful one. Means that I’ve got a chance.”

Felix immediately bites back, hackles raised. “I already had little interest, but as of right now, there’s not even a remote possibility of you having a chance.”

“Is it really so hard to just give it a go? You might even like me.” She bats her eyes in a pathetic attempt to appeal to him, but all Felix can think of his tanned skin dotted with freckles and sun-kissed auburn hair.

“Doubtful,” says Felix, dryly.

It takes only a second for her features to change dramatically, from coy and shy to contemptuous and sneering. “I wonder why I even bothered,” says the girl, before nodding to Sylvain. “Clearly your taste isn’t as good as I would have thought. Haven’t you heard the rumors about him?”

Yes, ad nauseum. From friends, the general public, even Sylvain himself. His problems with women and dating, and commitment issues. His brother and father, and the pressure of family legacy. At first, from those around them who’d heard of their dating, who’d seen them hanging out. People who felt it their duty to warn Felix.

And eventually, Sylvain himself who’s recently opened up about the heavy baggage that he carries around, shouldering it without much of a complaint. If anything, Sylvain’s the one looking out for others.

So yes, Sylvain doesn’t have a stellar reputation, but there’s a lot more to a person than what’s seen on the surface. A lesson that Felix has spent the last half-year learning quite unwillingly.

“Do you think yourself superior?” asks Felix, eyes narrowing at her. “You have no concept of personal space, nor do you seem to comprehend the words ‘no’ and ‘not interested’. Sylvain could murder someone in cold blood and still have twice the worth that you hold.”

“It’s a wonder, why you would even consider him,” scoffs the girl.

“Obviously it’s because I love him and despite the terrible things the lot of you gossip about, he makes me perfectly happy.”

The table goes quiet, both the girl and Sylvain staring at him. Likely, for different reasons. Felix didn’t mean to say it so plainly, but he’s never been good at pulling his punches, even when it comes to verbal lashings.

Besides, she brought it upon herself.

And against all odds, Felix feels wholly and utterly satisfied, not a moment of regret at his confession. He takes a sip of his coffee, fingers curled around his mug tenderly, meeting her gaze head-on.

“You should leave,” says Sylvain, before the girl can even respond. She opens her mouth to retort, but stops when Sylvain smiles at her. Only it isn’t a smile, it’s a nasty-looking smirk, more like a wolf that’s about to pounce its prey.

Wisely, she backs off, huffing in annoyance as she turns and leaves.

And then there are two, sitting at a table in silence. Felix is oddly comfortable, sipping at his drink while Sylvain’s mouth opens and closes. Thinking about what he’s going to say. Felix supposes that he’s opened the inevitable can of worms.

“So,” starts Sylvain, “correct me if I’m wrong, but when you said that you love me, it sounded pretty genuine.”

Felix scoffs, he can’t help it. “I always mean the things that I say.”

He expects Sylvain to bolt, to run away, to want nothing to do with this. Instead, Sylvain smiles, small and real, regarding Felix with a kind of warmth that immediately sets him on high alert.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” asks Felix, testily. But Sylvain only chuckles, soft at first and then louder. “Really Sylvain? You’re laughing? Right now?”

“Sorry,” says Sylvain, “It’s not actually funny-- okay, that’s a lie, it’s hilarious.”

Felix frowns, sneering defensively. “Is the idea of me loving someone, least of all you, so entertaining?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” demands Felix, exasperated. Sylvain’s not one to beat around the bush, but he can’t seem to find his words, too busy being amused by Felix’s feelings, to his utter embarrassment.

“It’s because I love you too.”

Felix’s mouth falls open because that’s the last thing he expects Sylvain to say. He doesn’t answer, gaping openly at Sylvain, floundering for an explanation. Eventually, Sylvain finds himself, clearing his throat slightly.

Sylvain looks to Felix’s face and then his gaze drops to where his hand rests on the table. Considering. Felix really hopes that he’s not planning on taking it, but Sylvain does, fingers tugging at his palm gently.

Felix lets it happen, settling on the explanation that he’s just not like himself at the moment.

“Felix,” says Sylvain, this time quieter and more serious. He thumbs at Felix’s knuckles, the touch soft and hesitant. “I’ll admit, I’m a little bit relieved.”

“I’m annoyed,” says Felix. “I’ve been annoyed since the moment I realized it because all I’ve been able to do is think of you. It’s infuriating in the worst of ways.”

There’s a moment that passes as they watch each other, Sylvain’s hand practically burning around Felix’s. And then, Sylvain says, “Felix, can I kiss you?”

Yes, Felix thinks. It’s such a foreign feeling that he nearly pulls away but he doesn’t. He’s determined to indulge. It’s about time he’s enjoyed something in his life.

So, what he says instead is, “If you must,” the words clipped but his usual crustiness softer than normal. It makes Sylvain smile at him again, looking at Felix like he can see right through him.

Sylvain leans forward smoothly, cupping Felix’s jaw in his other hand. He’s still looking at him, like he’s some sort of treasure, paused right before Felix’s mouth. And that makes Felix impatient.

Felix is the one to close the distance, sealing their lips together like a promise. Sylvain’s mouth is soft under his, but he responds eagerly, his han moving to the back of his neck. Felix has never really put stock into the whole sparks flew and things were felt nonsense. Turns out that he’d been wrong and that kissing is kind of everything. All he can think of is Sylvain’s presence and the solid weight of him as he leans in.

Sylvain licks into the kiss, but only just barely, coaxing a tad more than just a mild response from Felix. And Felix can feel his skin burning bright red with strain, or embarrassment, or maybe just the idea that they’re doing this in public.

He doesn’t care, Felix wants more, fingers curling into Sylvain’s shirt and tugging slightly.

Eventually, they part because breathing is necessary and even Felix requires air. Regrettably. He wants to go back in, to kiss Sylvain again, just one more time before he gains his senses back and thinks better of it.

But first.

“You know, I’ll kill you if you hurt me,” says Felix, fingers tightening their grip around  Sylvain’s shirt.

Sylvain laughs, leaning close to Felix's ear and pressing a soft kiss there. “I know. But that’s a chance I’m willing to take.”