#So his eyes are a little weird - so he's got some odd stitches and he moves strangely and smells a bit - how different is that from humans?

[sysig]

Dr. ZEXenstein (Patreon)

[bluegarners]

i know it's fun to draw and write about the vigilantes with scrapes and bruises and various injuries, and sometimes the Big Injury that takes them out for awhile so they need to be cared for, but the logistics of them getting hurt so frequently just doesn't make sense for what they are trying to do. like, if the goal is to go out into the city just for patrol say 2-3 times a week, and they get hurt on those patrols with something minor like a little cut from a knife, or a few bruises for hits they didn't count on, those are still injuries that they then would have to carry with them to the Big Event of whatever Major Catastrophe hits the city or wherever later that week or in the month. especially if they keep getting minor injuries, like if they got a bruise on their back and then later got hit in that same spot, it could later cause some weird muscle cramping or make the muscle tighter, so they're even more likely to injure themselves the next time they go out. with all the acrobatics they do, i would imagine that the possibility of tweaking an ankle or shoulder are pretty high, and if they aren't extremely careful, small things like that can turn into a popped out shoulder or a torn ligament. and Big Injuries like that do require a lot of rest and care to recover, and the physical therapy required to get them back to working ability can be extensive. and on top of that, a once popped shoulder is likely to be popped out again. so with each added injury, it just increases their likely hood of getting an even worse injury later on

so, to carry on from that, logistically, it would only make sense for them not to get minor injuries or even Big Ones. these vigilantes are literally top of the top, the Best at what they do. it would be extremely silly for some petty, layman criminal to be able to land a hit on them, or for one of the vigilantes to not even notice and block a hit or knife coming their way. even with restrictions like a healing injury/sickness/protecting a civilian/etc., it should still be enormously hard to injure any of them in any capacity. their line of work just wouldn't be doable if they came home every other night with a wound to take care of. so, on that note, when they Do Get Hurt, it's a Massive Deal and is treated with the utmost surprise and shock, especially with those that don't frequently work with them

picturing batman turning up to some Event that involves various jla members and he's wearing some kind of brace or has a patch on his face to cover stitches, and the younger members just being gobsmacked at the sight because this is batman, infallible, untouchable, crazy perfect batman. and he's somehow been injured? someone managed to hurt him? that would be mind blowing and another reminder that it's literally just some random dude underneath that mask that is just as mortal, and even more so, as the rest of them

and picturing a younger dick grayson with his titans, leading them into their Battle, and when the dust has settled robin's nose is bleeding and his cheek is swelling and it's jarring because that's blood and it's red and it's smearing all over his face, and robin is just casually checking to make sure his teeth haven't been displaced and gently prodding his nose for broken bones, and a week after the Battle, the bruise is dark, dark purple and he's applying ointment to it every morning and can be found at odd times in the day icing his cheek and it's so shocking because everyone else has already healed from whatever injuries they had sustained and robin is still. injured. and when the next Mission comes along, he's ready and planning and organizing things and pulling on his gear, but his team just can't pull their eyes away from how big the bruise is and how it trails underneath his mask and how maybe one of his eyes is probably swollen and bloodshot, but he just waves them off and asks them if they're ready to Go

[eldritch-spouse]

Can I get Penis Panic part 3- Revenge of the Dicks? Featuring the demon triplets, the garden inhabitants, Shags, and Stitches?

-Corkscrew Cock Anon

[Adding the aquarium peeps too, because I don't have a name planned for a part 4 if anyone asks.]

TW: Noncon.

(THE TRILOGY)

Ludwig sighs. The first thing that graces his mind is disappointment, the blatant display of terror turning him off a little, but then he genuinely gets worried. In fact, if you don't wake up very soon, he's going to rush you to a hospital. He's not even thinking about why you fainted, he's just worried half to death.

Obie snorts. Hahah, real funny! Oh shit, you actually passed out. HUH. He's shaking you immediately. Is it the piercings?? Do you think they'll hurt? Dude don't scare him like that! You'll wake up to Obie clutching you and sighing loudly in relief.

Mervin rolls his eyes. You're overreacting! Geez, what are you, a baby? Come now. It's a little flattering. Okay, he's basically high on it- But it's definitely an unusual reaction and he's mildly concerned. You'll wake up to him seated on the edge of the bed, demanding an explanation.

Shags stares at your limp form for a few moments. Curious. Well then, he's nothing if not an opportunist. You're posed in different ways, Shags starts sketching you when he's sure you're not in real danger, relieving himself to the rough sketches and your lovely slumbering visage. Even in terror-induced sleep, you're a work of unspeakable art.

Stitches laughs mutely for so long he probably sits out one of his atrophied lungs. THIS IS TOO GOOD. He fucks you anyway. After all, you're being silly. Stitches is sure your panic will fade to pleasure when you wake up getting fucked as deep and fast as be can. Gonna faint again? Patches will seethe about this later.

Colmei panics. The Queen fainted?! The Queen fainted!! She's ill! She's sick! HURRY. The entire hive surrounds you, buzzing in preoccupation. Colmei carries you to a bed of the best flowers he can find, pacing back and forth as he wonders about what could have made you ill enough to fall unconscious. It doesn't cross his mind that you fainted from the sight of his cock. After all, he's part of your loyal colony, why would you fear him?

Hellion recoils. Wow, you fell like dead weight. Are you actually dead?? He pokes you just to be sure, resting that flat face on your chest and neck to make sure you're actually breathing. That was weird... He's not sure what you expected. Is it because he doesn't have visible balls like some of the others? No really, he's puzzled. Hellion lays on your legs and waits for you to wake up.

Pebble is inconsolable. He thinks he frightened you to death, somehow. The gargoyle screams and carries you to someone he trusts, horrified at himself. It's his fault!! He's too hideous and even his cock is all wrong! That's why you don't want him. He's sobbing and garbling incoherently through the paper bags, having a massive tantrum, throwing shit around while you're attended to.

Magus catches you before you can sink like an anchor. Did the glowing frighten you? Why would you fear your mate? He wasn't going to stick all of it in, you did know that, right? You know he's not stupid enough to kill you, right?? He's almost offended. The huge mermonster sighs and keeps you afloat on his front, swimming aimlessly until you wake up again, his odd cock coiled around your leg.

Glauk is whining. What kind of game is this? No one's ever done that before! He sits there like a dork looking at his own cock, moving it around in hopes of finding what scared you so much. His scent is fine, he's not discolored, it works just fine- What got you so worked up?? Incapable of conceiving you might not want to bed him anymore, Glauk fondles and ruts sporadically at you until you're awake again.

[wilderhyperfoxations]

BELOS' MOUTH LINES- WHAT ARE THEY?

Argument/hypothesis: Belos's mouth lines aren't wrinkles, they're actually scars or the curse! (Warning- use of hypothesis and such might be rickety as yoga balls. I'm not a bigbrain, I'm just a guy with a lot of thoughts.) Evidence proving the hypothesis: No elderly character or any character has the same lines, two on top, one on the bottom, and all connecting to the mouth. Gwendolyn has deep cheek wrinkles and forehead wrinkles when she frowns. She also has sagging skin around her jaw. She's around 60/70- Belos is over 400 but doesn't look old. Terra Snapdragon has two lines above her lip, smile lines, lines under her eyes. In the scene where we see all the coven heads together, her two top lip wrinkles connect to her lip, but they do not look like Belos', and otherwise they do not connect, even a few frames later.

See? None have the same features as Belos, or even similar. Scratches are usually stylized to be some variation of red. Scars are usually pink-ish or darker. But- Principal Bump has a scar/stitches over his eye, and they are black. According to the storyboard of the s2 finale when Belos speaks to Luz, the mouth lines are not present during when he gets his green stripe removed, but appear only when it comes back. Also, in this one, his one mouth line connects to the green scar. Storyboards never depict him as old, moreso withered, tired. Especially this one. Take away that little line and you've got yourself an eccentric twink.

Okay, sure, the mouth lines are different- but if they are scars, why aren't they like Hunters' or Luz'? Maybe because it would have been tedious to color, or it is just a design choice, based on the black lines being bolder or weirder looking. Or maybe the opposite. He also has no other wrinkles besides the line when he smirks, and lines under his eyes are very dark undereye bags. They look less like wrinkles and more like exhaustion. Belos generally has an ambiguous design age-wise, without his greying hair and or the mouth lines, he could pass for a younger person, even if you keep the under-eyes- no other wrinkles are present, and neither are any signs of age on his body. Counter evidence, disproving the hypothesis: Storyboards often have inaccurate scenes or designs or things that are later removed (see Darius having purple eyes or looking mega weird in some storyboards, or even the scene w Belos where his face melts) and sometimes characters are missing scars in sbs, like Hunter here. So Belos only having mouth lines when the curse kicks in could be that, an omission for the sake of convenience.

Also it could have been a unique and weirder way to show wrinkles, evidence as to different characters who have different designs. Plus usually scars are red/pink, and these are solid black lines, more like wrinkles. And most older characters aren't extremely old looking. Without Eda's hair color it's harder to tell her age even if she's supposed to look more aged. She just looks 40 but grey, and her design is most similar to Belos' in that regard. In other storyboards Belos has no mouth lines either, while having the green line. Could be design changes or for simplicity.

Storyboards aren't reliable as evidence. The boards have inconsistent designs or earlier designs, as shown by his eyeball face or egg elf face above, as well as the lack of nose bump. The input of others: I ran a poll on tumblr, and the results were- 78.8% chose wrinkles, 17.5% chose scars, and 3.8% chose curse. There were 80 votes. One person said they were pretty sure they were wrinkles, because Belos is "old as balls" and "some old guys have dry lips". Another said scars because "his whole body seems to be covered by them", and he has "no crows feet" [or other wrinkles]. Another said that they assumed those were scars, because they look too odd and are connected to the lips to be wrinkles. The fandom consensus seems to be that they are wrinkles, and most draw/write/regard him as such. Conclusion: Who the chit knows! Evidence points to it being wrinkles, I say. But I personally believe it's the curse or scars and there's just enough ambiguity for me to hold that opinion. Could I ask Dana or something? Probably, doubt that she would reply, but also I feel like that would ruin the fun. What do you think?

[queenofthedisneyverse]

Camilo and Chickpea

Camilo was doing his usual routine of pranking villagers and just having a fun time with his friends. After he was done, he decided to head home for lunch and relax a bit. Unbeknownst to him, a small little yellow thing was following him.

It took about five chirps before he stopped…and looked around. 

“What is that noise?”

Chirp!

He looked down, and that’s when he saw a little chick sitting on top of his foot like it owned it. Milo tilted his head at the little yellow puffball and looked around, seemingly looking for where this little thing came from.

It was from one of the Chicken farms, that much he knew. But HOW did it end up from the other side of the Encanto…to on top of his foot? Without being seen by cats or being stepped on?

So, he picked the little fella up and contemplated what he should do. Should he take it to a farm where this little guy could be used for food or to lay more eggs once it’s older?...or keep it as a pet?

Camilo decided to go with the latter and walked back inside with his new friend. And besides, if Antonio can keep a jaguar then camilo can surely keep a chicken, right? 

Once inside he saw his little brother and prima mira sitting on the floor coloring. 

“Hey, look at what followed me home”

Cami sat down in front of them and released the yellow feather baby. Antonio ‘awed’ and picked the little chick up. Mirabel was just confused as to why camilo had a chick on him. 

“Um…why do you have a chick?”

“It followed me”

“.....a chick…followed YOU home?” 

“Mirabel, I'm not just going to take a chick from its mother. Don’t you think that’s a little cruel?”

“Well I’m finding it hard to believe a literal baby chick followed you home on its own accord”

Antonio chimed in to the conversation “she said she left her nest to see what was beyond that weird barrier that only the big weird looking chickens can go through. After that she got lost and scared and decided to follow that big chicken. I think she means Milo”

“I’m sorry, does she think humans are just…bigger, odd looking chickens?”

“Yeah, all chickens do”

“...Oh”

The chick peeped some more and Antonio leaned down to hear her. “Oh, she says she likes Cami as her mama more. She doesn’t really remember her old one anyway or which nest she came from” 

Cue camilo who looks really emotional “she sees me as her mama?”

Cue Mirabel rolling her eyes “oh hear we go”

After that day, Camilo kept the little chick and named her Chickpea (right on the nose aint it?). All family members find it hilarious and ironic that the shapeshifting chameleon boy has a chicken for a pet. 

Pepa and Felix see Chickpea as their unconventional nieta. They can’t do much given her…chicken-ness but they like to have her around when Camilo is out. Both of them keep her on their shoulders or in their pockets. 

Casita decided to be funny and mark Alma’s door “Bisabuela”. She didn’t understand what it meant until she saw Chickpea and was told the situation. 

Mirabel knitted “father of an animal club” on his rauna. It was originally a club of one, which was just Bruno and his rats but now there’s a new member. Camilo wears it proudly. She also stitched a pocket to the front of it just in case he wanted to carry her around. 

Mira also likes knitting little hats for Chickpea, it’s tedious to make something for a creature so small but she’s up for the challenge.

Dolores takes her role as the honorary Tia very seriously. Same with Antonio. He pledged to be the very best influence on her. 

Luisa and Isabela love her too, although only one of them is trying to be a good influence and it’s not Luisa. Isa likes snatching Chickpea whenever she can and sprinkles her with pollen to make her look “cool”.

“Isabela! She’s MY daughter, not yours”

“I don’t care”

Alma and the blue couple don’t know what to think of the new family member other than she’s cute. And Alma hopes Camilo won’t get bored or tired of the new responsibility because from what she knew, chicks need care like every other pet in this world.

He never got tired of her though and always made sure she was okay. 

Luisa absolutely loves her. Will have her sit on her lap while she reads or just talk to her. 

(teenage and adult years) 

Chickpea is very spoiled and very much a diva (thanks to her “mama”). And used to having her needs met instantly. If they aren’t, she irritatingly bawks like no tomorrow. Not too loud, she knows Dolores has sensitive hearing, but she does it loud enough to the point where it’s annoying enough to get what she wants. And if that doesn’t work, she pecks you.

Chickpea also has her own collection of hats and necklaces thanks to her Tia Mirabel, Tio Antonio, and her “mama”. 

She is very sweet though and knows when someone is upset and needs a cuddle. She’ll cuddle just about anyone if it makes them happy, especially Camilo.

She certainly IS potty trained and knows exactly where to go when she needs to go (if you catch my drift). 

Camilo does include her in on his pranks (thanks to Antonio explaining the concept to her). She’s just as mischievous as her mama and loves chasing people around because it’s funny to her. Seeing creatures much bigger than you run away when you are chasing them is a hilarious thing to see. 

She is also in Bruno’s rat telenovelas as the leading actress. She won’t have it any other way…and yes, she’s just as dramatic as her mother. 

That’s all I got, I hoped you liked these. 

Inspired by @midcanto (Also, I remember you saying Camilo has Disney princess aura and I kind of want to make an au now)

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Andrew | Oblivious | Romantic

Dialogue prompt: “Do you need me to spell it out for you? I want you to kiss me.”

Requested: Yes

Andrew just can’t take a hint, so you take matters into your own hands.

Eden can’t help but chuckle at the sight of your besotted stare when you lock eyes with Andrew across the room. He gives you a sheepish smile and looks away, causing you to huff in slight annoyance and continue your task of kneading dough.

“You’ve got it bad, don’t you?” she queries with a teasing edge to her tone.

“Don’t humour me.” you mutter, sighing. “It’s painful enough that he doesn’t like me back.”

Eden frowns and passes you another apricot, but you refuse with a kind smile. “How do you know that? Have you asked him?”

You shake your head. “No, but… It’s clear that he doesn’t even look at me twice. And he avoids me sometimes. I feel like he thinks I’m annoying or something.”

Your friend hums and smiles. “Well, perhaps you should just ask him. I mean, it’s Andrew, he’s not… The most straightforward when it comes to things like these.”

Shrinking in your seat, you rub your forehead. “I don’t want to make things weird by ruining our friendship like that.”

“I’m certain that you won’t. Now, if you dally any longer, the dough will ferment before you are done shaping it properly.” Your attention is reverted back to the task at hand and you continue the process of making bread, the stringy dough stuck on your fingers. 

“Tell you what,” Eden starts, “This bread is meant for Simon and Andrew, who are going out fishing tonight. Wouldn't it be fun if we joined them to keep them company?”

You scoff a laugh. “Aren’t we supposed to stay here and wait until they return?”

Shrugging, Eden adds some extra salt to the mixture and you knead it through. “Why would we? The weather's nice enough.” 

“And what are we to do on that boat for the entire night? We’ll just be… Sitting. Waiting.”

Eden smiles and frowns. “Well, I’ll discuss with my husband what we could do to make ourselves useful.” You sigh, not completely convinced yet knowing that there isn’t a lot you can say to refuse now. After all, the original plan involved patching up a few torn tunics, and frankly, that doesn’t seem like the most exciting task either. In slight defeat, you nod at her.

“Right,” you huff, “If you insist.” She bumps your shoulder, earning a confused glare from you, but she grins knowingly, heading over to her husband to make arrangements for the evening.

Andrew frowns at Eden’s sudden request which he overhears the moment his brother repeats the question: “You and (Y/n) want to come fishing with us? Really? Why?” His heart stutters in his chest at the sudden mention of your name and he finds you standing in Eden’s kitchen a little away, shaping a ball of dough into a loaf. Sure, the inquiry was odd and not something Simon and he were used to, but he wasn’t opposed to you coming along…

“Sure, they can come.” He intersects himself into the conversation between his brother and his wife, “Why not? They can keep themselves busy repairing nets.” 

“How?” Simon groans, “It’s pitch black out, how can they possibly see where to set their stitches?”

Andrew shrugs, suggesting something else: “Or-Or clean them, that would also work. That doesn’t require as much sight.”

“Simon,” Eden cuts off her husband’s upcoming words of protest, taking his wrist to guide him with. 

You look up at them whispering to each other and Simon’s frown falls into a small smile, but when their gazes go to you, you quickly turn back to the bread, slightly flustered. You busy yourself by covering the bread for one final rise before it could be put in the oven. The couple separates; Eden goes to prepare for the trip tonight whilst Simon passes you by, leaning towards you slightly. 

“So, I’ve heard that you and Eden are going to join us tonight. It’s not often that I bring my wife and sister-in-law with me on the boat.”

You nearly drop the dirty bowl you’re holding in your hands and turn to him with widened eyes. “Sister-in– What are you on about?!”

Eden clicks her tongue and gives her husband a warning flick against the back of his head, glaring at him. “Si, behave. Don’t ruin things.”

Simon holds up his hands in defence and backs off, reaching for an empty wine skin that sits on the wall. “Okay, okay, I’ve said nothing.” As he stalks off, you give Eden a questioning look, but she plays dumb by shrugging slightly, taking the broom that stands against the wall to sweep the house before sundown.

For a moment, you dare to look at Andrew, who is busy unravelling nets, and you feel your heart skip a beat. An entire night on the water with him? That didn’t sound too bad.

_ 

Evening rolls around and you stand on the shore with a loaded basket of food in your hands whilst the men hoist nets into their vessel. More fishermen are going about business as usual and a few are already headed to the middle of the Lake of Galilee.

Simon and Eden have been giving one another looks all afternoon that you can’t quite place, but you pick up that it does not have to do with any marital issues, for they laugh plenty. You are looking forward to the little get-together on the water – you didn’t even know that Eden sometimes even went with Simon to begin with, and Andrew seemed to be confused about it as well – though it is certain that the mood is elated.

When Andrew clears his throat, you nearly jump out of your skin. He holds his arms out to you and raises an expectant eyebrow when you realise that he means for you to give him the basket. You step closer and heave it over into his hands, your fingers brushing against his arms in the process. The contact makes your stomach pleasantly drop and you swiftly step away to hide your abashedness. Andrew smiles softly before turning back into the boat to put it somewhere secure enough.

“I think we’re nearly ready to go,” Simon says, fastening a rope around the mast. “Come on, (Y/n), you sit in the front.” You rather awkwardly step into the vessel. Andrew doesn’t pick up on his brother’s hint to help you out, not even at the sharp nudge into his ribs. You take a seat at the bow and make yourself comfortable, looking out over the water.

Eden lets out a small gasp and clasps her hands over her mouth. “Oh no! I just realised that I have left the fire on back at the house!”

Andrew shrugs. “What harm can that do? It was almost extinguished anyway when I took out the bread earlier.” 

Frantically shaking her head, Eden backs away. “No, no, you don’t understand! I added more fuel later so that I could boil some eggs, but I forgot about them altogether! I-I have to hurry back, but I fear that I will not be able to return before sundown!”

She starts moving whilst Simon steps onto the shore to push the boat into the water. “Okay, ah, hold on now. You’re right, you won’t be back before sundown, but we really have to go now.”

“It can’t be that bad, Eden.” you try, “If anything happens, the neighbours are nearby to–”

Simon gives the boat a rough push onto the lake, causing you to squeal. “You two go.” he exclaims as you hold onto the side of the vessel for dear life, nails digging into the wood, “I’ll go with Eden to take care of the house! See you tomorrow morning!”

“Hey, what is the meaning of this?” Andrew demands with narrowed eyes as Simon wraps an arm around his wife, both of them laughing. 

“Just talk, you two!” Eden reassures, “There is no harm in getting closer to one another.”

“Have fun little brother!” Simon cheers, pressing a kiss to Eden’s temple, who bites her lip in glee as she beams at the pair of you. “Make sure to tell her how you feel!”

When they wave you goodbye as the boat slowly drifts off shore, you sigh as you realise what the meaning of this all is, a flush creeping onto your cheeks. Andrew looks at you in puzzlement, not picking up on the embarrassment that creeps onto your cheeks, much to your delight.

“What are they– Why are they acting so strange?”

You give a small roll of your eye. “Well, I think that they want to spend some time together without us around… And have us spend time together without them around.”

Andrew slowly shakes his head in confusion. “I’m not getting it. If they want alone time, Simon knows that he can always send me out of the house. I have my own flat, I don’t live with them, and—”

You let out a small sound and he frowns. “Are you okay?”

Nodding, you hum. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Plucking at a loose stitch on your tunic, you barely dare to look at him. “I suppose we’ve got to make most of it, then.” Andrew sends a small smile your way whilst he grabs one of the oars to move the boat faster.

“I’ve got no doubts that we will entertain ourselves. We’ve got the nets to throw out somewhere in the middle of the lake and we’ve got food and wine.”

“And good company.” you dare to add. He lets out a soft noise of acknowledgement and smiles at you. You shift to the other oar to help him out to your best ability, even though you’ve got no experience in said activity, but with a little bit of help, you manage to get there, albeit slowly.

Andrew watches you as you hoist the oar back into the boat once out in an open area and smirks. “You should consider the fishing industry.” You chuckle and shake your head. 

“Hm, that wouldn’t be my thing. I’d rather be a housewife who takes care of a fisherman than to become one myself.” The words leave your lips before you can realise they were there and your cheeks turn a deep shade of crimson. Clearing your throat, you shift awkwardly in your seat as Andrew narrows his eyes with a slight smile. 

“Hm, are you interested in anyone, then?”

It takes a moment before you reply. “I do, but I’m not certain if he likes me back. His brother and sister-in-law seem very keen on getting us together, though.” You aren’t courageous to look at him after this confession.

Something akin to disappointment flickers behind Andrew's eyes. “Oh. Is it John or James?” 

You scoff a sound of disbelief. “Neither of them has a sister-in-law.”

The gears seem to start turning in his head as Andrew thinks about the fishermen who frequent the local bar. Baruch, Asher, Isaac… He mulls over whom of them has a sister-in-law, wondering if Asher’s brother recently got married, curious to know if you’re friendly with any of the men around there and—

“–He seems to be quite oblivious to my feelings, too.” you mutter at his disheartening silence, which tells you that he has no idea that you’re talking about him . “So, to conclude, no, I am not seeing anyone nor am I planning on marrying any time soon.”

Andrew shifts the nets out of his lap into the water before sliding closer to you so that he can grab the basket full of food, and takes out the wineskin that sits on top. “There is nothing food and drink can’t solve, (Y/n). I’m pretty certain that you’ll meet someone who can provide for you.”

You swallow thickly and take the leather pouch of wine, bringing it to your lips to take a long drink even though you’ve got nothing in your stomach yet; it hits hard, but then, it numbs your nerves a bit. “How about you?” you query, “Do you have your eye on anyone?”

When you hold out the wine, Andrew gives you a grateful smile and takes a gulp before reaching for the fresh bread you’ve baked earlier. Both of you tear off a piece to chew on whilst Andrew comes up with a response. 

“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.” he says after swallowing his bite, “I-I mean, there is someone I like who is very beautiful and extremely kind, but she… She deserves better than me. A husband who provides more for her than I can.”

A deep frown falls over your face. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Andrew breathes, “I’ve liked her for a really long time, actually, and Simon keeps telling me to go for it, but I fear that she’ll reject me.” 

The wine allows bravery to seep into your veins and you dare to slightly touch his arm. “What makes you think that?”

Andrew’s eyes shoot to the place where your fingers lay on his skin. Thickly swallowing, he inhales shakily, pulling back his arm. “Because she likes someone else than me.”

“Nonsense,” you say. He looks up at you. The rays of the lowering sun bounce off his curls and his eyes glitter beautifully, even though his expression is utterly confused. With a soft smile playing over your lips, you reassuringly squeeze his arm. “I am positive that whoever you’re speaking about feels the same for you as you feel for her.”

Andrew closes his eyes and sighs. “I-I don’t think she does.”

“Have you asked her?” 

“No.” 

With shimmering eyes, you smile at him, releasing his arm before resting your hand on the seat, close to his. Your pinky brushes against his wrist and you take another swig of wine, humming pleasantly. “Perhaps you should and find out for yourself.”

“How can you be so sure?” Andrew huffs, inspecting your face closely. “I fear that I’ll disappoint her.”

“You won’t.” 

“Do you even know who I am speaking about?”

You grin and put your hand on his. “I’ve got an inkling, yes.”

Frowning deeply, Andrew looks at your fingers touching his, his mind racing with countless thoughts of what he should do. “I don’t understand.” he says at last, startled when he sees that your face has neared his. 

“(Y/n), I–”

“I like you, Andrew.” you blurt out, spurred on by the pleasant buzz of wine. “I like you a lot.”

He blinks rapidly, slightly shaking his head. “E-Excuse me, are you… Are you serious right now? Did Simon tell you to say that?” 

Laughing lightly, you lean your arm against his, inching closer to him. “No, silly. I was talking about you . And going by what you’ve just said as well as what Simon called after us when he pushed us onto the lake, I feel like you’re speaking about me, too.”

Andrew huffs and finds your eyes, looking at you in a pleading fashion. “Yes-Yes, (Y/n), I was also talking about you. But what I don’t understand is that you say that you like me, too, and I’m just— I’m so confused! Why would you… Why are you looking at me like that?”

Boldly, you lace your fingers through his now, having him look at you. “Do you need me to spell it out for you? I want you to kiss me.” 

“You do? I-I mean, I want to, I’ve been thinking about that for ages, but—”

Cutting him off, you press your lips to his gently, successfully shutting him up. Andrew’s eyes widen before they flutter shut, relaxing into it. It lasts a few seconds, his hand cradling your face, tilting your chin towards him.

Once you pull back, you give him the sweetest of smiles. “It did indeed take you ages, you fool.” you hum pleasantly, “Eden and Simon were done waiting, as was I.” 

Exhaling a laugh, Andrew carefully caresses your cheek as if afraid to break you, observing you closely. “I-I didn’t know, honestly, I… If I had known, I would have done it sooner, and— Oh goodness… I haven’t asked your father if I could…” His cheeks flush and he backs away, seeking your face for any sign of regret, “I-I’m sorry, that wasn’t very courteous of me.”

“What are you talking about, Andrew?” you laugh lightly, “ I was the one who kissed you . And if I may be so straightforward, I wouldn’t mind doing that again. Asking for permission to marry me can always be done later. For now, let us just enjoy the moment.”

“In that case, I will ask him for your hand at the crack of dawn.”

You whisper your reply, bringing your face in front of his so that you can feel one another’s breath. “He won’t refuse, and neither will I.”

Andrew beams a wonderful smile, taking your face in one palm again. In the light of the lowering sun, as waves dance against the vessel, he kisses you softly until darkness falls and fish flood the nets.

[daenystheedreamer]

I am going insane over the omeagorverse is it possible that we could hear more about Jaehaerys 2 electric boogaloo and Maris the lesbian kids?

ABSOLUTELY for you, everything 🫶 love the pfp btw<3 my apologies this is late i drafted it and it got lost :(

so each descendent of the cursed maegor bloodline gets one fucked up deformity 🫶 jaehaerys got little nubby horns (very small hidden by his hair) viserra got a forked tongue that the maesters quickly and quietly stitched up (she cuts it open again later for the vibes) and daenys got stubby wings and a vestigal tail (maesters cut them off). u know the descriptions of targ stillbirths its like What if that sorta 'leaked' into the live births >:)

aegon and aerion the twins do the jacob and esau gripping the heel thing >:) and aegon comes out with a portion of his leg/heel blackened and scaly, with aerion gripping it and the hand is also blackened and scaled. FUN! and later on when theyre older and the mommy's favourite vs daddy's favourite drama is settling in maris considers doing a aerea/rhaella twin swap and even gaslighting the kids into believing it but the scales mean she can't :(

aegon walks with a limp and uses a cane and aerion wears a glove over his scaly hand. aegon is pissy about it because his deformity affects his health more than aerion's does and aerion is pissy cos he had to learn how to wield swords differently he had to figure it out himself Plus add into how he got exiled to essos when he was 14 yeah he's mad about having to REALLY learn to fight. so he thinks he's actually worked hard to become a fighter he actually put in work as opposed to his brother who is crippled and just GETS to have the crown. the heel+hand are also slightly burned as if in the womb aerion tried to burn his brother...

helaena had stubby wings like daenys <3 they got cut off when she was an infant as well. bled real bad though cos they were more developed than daenys' had been. she was kept hospitalised for ages after birth and it freaked everyone out but she survived. they had to cauterise the wound so she has very large and shiny burn scars on her back. jae also ordered the procedure while maris was still in childbed and a little delirious without consulting her. So that caused a bit of a rift. it also made jae+maris treat helaena as their specialist little baby girl who must always be protected.

daenerys has webbed fingers and toes like dragon wings >:) she's the one who married corlys so she gets called a mermaid. they didnt get cut off because they were sort of normal enough to not get noticed + its a trait some people in westeros are described with + maris was like yeah im not going through that horror again (she is going to go through horrors again). daenerys is the kid who's most normal about her Weird Quirk she's like it makes me swim better it makes me cool and sexy

viserys got a vestigal tail also like daenys<3 only this time it was actually a little prehensile. so again maris said i am NOT cutting that shit off. but after a few years they're like ight we can't hide this it's going to cause problems in court it's going to put our legitimacy and supremacy into question. So they cut it off when he's like 5 or 6 ^_^ it's very traumatic and painful. like they drug him up but that makes it worse cos now the memories are muddled and scarier and he hallucinated a little bit. and maris and jae couldn't bear to watch the procedure so he was alone surrounded by maesters (who already have FUCKED vibes). daenerys snuck in and held his hand for a while before getting kicked out :)

maegelle gets slitted pupils like a dragon's eyes :) obviously cant be removed... it's so obvious too and can't be hidden or explained away so maegelle is treated very differently by everybody than her siblings cos she just looks odd. has to learn to avoid eye contact 🫶 socially induced autism. she also sometimes wears a veil partly as a modesty faith thing but it doubles as a way to hide her face. she likes cats because they have the same eyes as her<3 she has three pet cats named nightshade (black cat) moonbloom (white cat) and frostfire (orange cat). if the warrior cats books existed in westeros she would have been fine...

@honestly-i-just-like-mythology  sincerest apologies for how late this must be 🙏 i lose things in my drafts bcos i want to make sure theyre as fun as possible and then it just flutters away from my mind

[reddie-fangirl24]

Meeting (A Reddie Fanfic)

Note: I have been trying to write more Reddie fics. This is based on a Phoebe and Joey moment from Friends.

“Eds, I’m telling you! It’s weird that she shows up here after three months and now she’s got something to say to you?” Richie followed his friend all around his apartment. It annoyed Eddie, but who cares? Richie noticed that he put on some nice clothes to meet with his ex-wife.

“I can’t ignore her, Richie. She’s my ex-wife. We were married for 15 years,” Eddie told him, putting his wallet in his pocket.

“Tell me how you survived that again?” Richie joked though he was being serious. 

Eddie groaned, craning his neck to the stained ceilings of his small apartment. Of all the apartments, Richie still had no idea why Eddie chose this one. “It’s important for us to communicate. I can’t just drop all communication and ignore her forever.”

“Remind me what you have to talk about?”

“Would you stop being an asshole?” Eddie spat, turning a little too fast to meet his eyes. He briefly held his chest, wincing. Alert, Richie put a comforting hand on his shoulder and handed Eddie his pain medication. Those stitches have to be on for another three months. Beyond that, Eddie had a further recovery to meet. 

Although they all lived together, Richie didn’t see why Eddie chose this apartment for himself. He was adamant when it came down to picking. The hospital told him that he needed a lot of care and shouldn’t be alone. The other Losers probably knew more than he did about his feelings, but Richie knew rooming with Eddie was a dead giveaway. 

“You know I’m going to say ‘I told you so’ if she’s going to hurt you,” Richie shrugged his shoulders once Eddie downed the pills.

“Don’t be surprised if you’re going to eat your own words, Trashmouth,” Eddie remarked in a sing-song voice. His face was so close to Richie’s. Was everyone’s breath as warm as Eddie’s? Richie felt his face heating up. What were they arguing about again? 

Eddie walked down the apartment stairs (as carefully as he could) and made his way to the Losers’ favorite hangout spot. They always crowded the big couch in the corner of the place. It was just like the old days. Now they were making up for lost time.

Myra was sitting outside at one of the tables. From the looks of her sad expression, Eddie wondered if he should have listened to Richie.

“Hi Myra,” Eddie greeted, sitting down with her. It’s odd how they’d been doing this for fifteen years. However, Eddie tried to make a quick exit in the morning so he wouldn’t have to listen to Myra’s nagging.

“Eddie, I need to tell you something,” she began, not looking into his eyes.

“What is it? Are you sick? Or did you lose the house? I know I should have talked to the bank about...”

“No, it’s not that. I’m okay and... I’m selling the house.”

Eddie blinked. “Selling? Are you moving?”

“Yes,” she cleared her throat. “I’m moving in with someone.”

“Oh? Is it your friend Annie? You mentioned she was trying to find a roommate.”

Myra paused and then said. “I’m moving in with Gerald.”

“Gerald?” Upon thinking for a moment, Eddie slowly had a realization. “From work?”

“You see, our divorce came at a good time, and I wasn’t expecting you to intricate it,” Myra explained, looking guilty into his eyes. “Gerald and I have been seeing each other for the last two years. I didn’t want to, Eddie, but he’s different. When I am with him I am not so...”

“Controlling?” Eddie stared hard into the table.

Myra scowled. “I was going to say anxious. It’s nothing against you, Eddie, but your anxiety was a lot for me to handle. And your mother, too. I felt like I became this person who was always berating her son because I had no idea how you’d react to a situation. One minute you’re worried about hydroplaning and then when I remind you, it doesn’t bother you anymore!”

If he stared hard enough into the table, maybe Eddie could burn a hole. People passed by during their conversation, going about in their own happy lives. Eddie felt guilty about the divorce, but no, there was nothing worse than this.

Just then, a car drove up close to the cafe. By the nervous look on Gerald’s face, he knew Myra told Eddie the news.

“Well, we’d better be going,” Myra stood up. She walked closer to Eddie, quickly putting her hand on his shoulder in comfort. The feeling was not mutual. “Goodbye.”

Eddie heard the car door slam and then it drove away.

Don’t start crying. Don’t start crying.

His hands shaking, Eddie hastily stood up from his seat, almost tipping it over. He ran straight into Richie.

“Eds,” Richie started, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

Eddie took a deep breath, though his countenance was breaking. “Richie, don’t you fucking tell me ‘you told me so.’ This is not the right time...” His voice crumbled from there.

“No, no, Eddie. Aw, come here, buddy.” Richie pulled Eddie into his arms. Just feeling Richie’s warm embrace made him feel safe. A small tear trickled down his cheek. His chest felt so heavy. Eddie didn’t realize his whole body was trembling. “My best friend needs me. Who says I’m going to give you a hard time?” He wanted to kiss Eddie’s forehead, but he refrained. Oh, it was so hard not to. 

Eddie sniffled, burying his face in Richie’s shoulder. They were hugging in the middle of the sidewalk. He noticed a small boy look at them and whisper something to his mother. It didn’t matter.

“I just can’t believe she’d do that...”

“Don’t think about it. I know it hurts. But Eddie...” Richie pulled away, staring at him with those warm sincere eyes that made Eddie feel like he belonged. And loved. “You don’t need her. You’ll find someone else. And you got us.”

Eddie smiled a bit, removing a fallen tear. “Thanks, Richie.”

Richie giggled, mischievously. Before he could tap his cheek, Eddie stopped his wrist. “Don’t even try it, Tozier!”

“Your reflexes have improved, I see!” Richie laughed. They almost started wrestling with each other and laughed again. More people looked at them strangely. Oh, it was nothing new. Just as long as Eddie wa laughing and smiling.

“Come on, I’ll buy you a marshmallow latte,” Richie guided him into the cafe.

“That’s your favorite drink!”

“You like it too!”

[hanarinhightown]

ok wait i just finished garrus's loyalty mission - i stopped him from shooting sidonis bc i want him to be happier in me3 but tbh it felt very eeeh in the moment, like shepard wasnt respecting his decision or sth - - what's your take on the garrus mission?

hi anon, thank you for the question!!

so first of all, i think it heavily depends on your shepard's personality and the way you perceive their relationship to their crew/garrus in particular. but i absolutely see your point here and i have a lot of friends who feel this way -- in fact, i have a friend who actually thought until i told them otherwise that the only way to win garrus's loyalty at all was by letting him take the shot, because if you intervened, he would obey, but he wouldn't really trust you. because you made his decision for him which just meant he never really processed it.

and the game does sort of frame it that way, even if that's obviously not what they intended. i don't think what we get is bad as an option, but i would have liked it better if shepard's actions could be more intentionally just... stalling a bit. like, if shepard and garrus are close, they can see that this maybe isn't what will give garrus closure in the long run, so they are just trying to make him stop and think and come to a decision on his own -- whatever that may be -- instead of either letting him impulsively take the shot, or forcing him not to. ultimately garrus does say in some cases "just go. tell him to go." but it's heavily influenced by shepard being like "yeah look at this pathetic already-dead man," and i would have liked a little more heavy lifting from garrus's personal struggle with it (which is to say nothing of brandon keener's phenomenal delivery in the scene) rather than shepard's moralizing. which can come across as just odd -- especially given that shepard actually knows very little about what happened with archangel, because garrus is being (perhaps understandably) less than emotionally available at the beginning of ME2 -- when shepard might spend the whole game killing people for lesser offenses.

but again i think that depends on who your shepard is. and who garrus is at this point in your trilogy play-through (for me a lot of this also hinges on my own understanding of garrus's personal development between ME1 and ME2). but in general, regardless of my personal feelings about sid, i do like the writing better if you save him. it feels less abrupt and more realistic to see garrus still struggling with it a little in the aftermath (even if that disappears once you get back to the normandy, but that goes for most if not all of the loyalty missions to some extent)

as for me, i have a weird relationship to mass effect canon because there's the way i play the games, and then there's the way i personally perceive my canon, and there's overlap but not completely (mostly because of sidonis, to be fair), so i just sort of take the whole thing with a grain of salt and...embellish the truth. i tend to play it in the way i've described above, where shepard can see it's eating garrus up inside, and killing sidonis won't make him feel better, but shepard knows he needs to make the decision on his own to even begin any sort of process of closure. and for me he ultimately does decide to let sidonis go, although whether that's an ethical stance he's taking or an emotional one where he just can't go through with it when he finally has sid in his scope is up for interpretation for me still, because i don't think even garrus would be able to answer that, and he's got a long way to go before he actually processes the whole thing. so i do really like "eye for an eye," but i kind of see it as more of an opening-up of a wound so it can heal again correctly, rather than the stitches that close the wound and close the case, if that makes sense?

[ask-paradox-and-friends]

Horror AU Dolly and Ames Story Chapter 1 The First Encounter.

3rd person pov

A small orphanage was seen there wasn't much there aside from the people inside the children are all over having fun or napping all except one a little girl she had brownish red hair but had decided to get a purple streak in her hair and pretty blue eyes her name was Ames she was playing with a plush animal she had found earlier the plush was odd it had a deer head four arms batwing a cat tail all mixed with on a humanoid body. It was covered in stitches and patches. It seems that the poor thing had been beaten up now little Ames had made a great many toys as the sweet little if weird girl she spent a lot of time perfecting her skills. Who knows? Maybe someone will recognize her skills and see her for who she is. But for now she'd stick to herself now while Noone made fun of her (that she knew of) she knew she wasn't popular but she didn't really care now the plush she had an interesting company name on it. Magic of Childhood Inc. Now she hadn't heard of them but this plushie made it clear that they had quality toys but of course she had to repair them first. After a long day she had gone to bed not sure what to call her new friend but she found something claiming his name is Plushiedox so that's his name now. As she went to sleep something happened that would change her life.

_______________________________________

Plushiedox Pov

I had been beaten up and torn that's all I knew for a small bit of time as some mean kid here had found me and well I was sure if I had guts I'd be the reddest thing in the world but this little girl had found me and fixed me I've heard from the women here her name is Amelia but she likes the name Ames more now I let her see my tag to see what she'd think of the Company apparently if she's the one i got told to find she'd love to know more.

She seems nice. I hope she's the one Mother told us about. I'd love her as a baby sis.

_______________________________________

Dolly's Pov

She should be here. I had a little adventure somehow through magic but after that incident that made me well me along with my changes I had to isolate myself from most but somehow through a tear in something I ended up meeting another me and seeing her baby girl I will admit I was jealous she looked more human than me and she had something I didn't know I wanted. Love from such a pure soul so I sent Plushiedox,Comet, and Shroud to find my world's version of her and I haven't had luck. But I think I might have something. Someone fixing Plushiedox now of course I had to be sure so I'll watch and wait. But I'm not sure how to approach her. I'm not pretty and this place apparently doesn't have magic. I'll try to be a friendly voice for now. Tomorrow is a new day.

_______________________________________

Ames Pov

My day was pretty normal: wake up, get breakfast, double check that Noone tampered with my friends Then play but somehow I found someone ripping something up now I thought it was one of my friends but it wasn't it was new he seemed different very different but I liked it he was soft and cuddly so I fixed him then washed him of course Ms.K and Ms.P looked confused but I didn't mind I had a new friend I played all day with him I showed him my friends and found his tag I would look up his creator Tomorrow I need a good night's rest I'll keep him for ad long as I can he'll fit right in with me.

Dolly and this AU is by me

The original Ames is made by @trying-my-best-always

@kittyloverremade

[jangofctts]

As You Are (Bucky Barnes x fem!reader)

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: smut, explicit language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence and injuries, light choking, brief thigh riding/grinding, vaginal fingering with them metal fingies, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (dont be a dick, wrap that stick), fucking on sam’s couch

a/n: ok hi this fic is very self indulgent bUT YKNOW WHAT WHO CARES EKJHEJHKEJH this is my first fic for marvel and AH I hope I did Bucky justice. ENJOY YALL

This had been a terrible idea. 

Right from the minute you tailed after he and Sam to the Baron’s extensive vintage car storage. Bucky had explicitly withheld any and all information regarding this little excursion to protect you but of course you’d shown up—none too jazzed about the little stunt Bucky pulled regarding the Baron. Fair. 

You were right—Bucky should have called but that overwhelming guilt of dragging you into another one of his problems stopped him from pressing that little call button. He never wanted to be the reason you ended up back on the run again. Though judging by the way things were going, it was more than likely you’d be in prison by the end of the week. 

Luck had your back in that sort of regard—too bad it could never rescue you from your own stubbornness and grief regarding that damn shield. 

You’d taken a devastatingly hard hit from Walker—a fractured orbital, a split lip and a dislocated shoulder. All preventable—if only Bucky kept better track of you before you showed up in that warehouse alone. Left to fight the shadow of what was once a symbol of hope for some—another man playing dress-up in something that will never belong to him. 

It was just their luck Bucky and Sam arrived in time—preventing you from becoming another red stain of violence splattered over that shield. 

James Buchanan Barnes is not afraid of much—but fuck. Seeing you crumpled over the concrete floor, all bloodied and struggling to raise a hand to protect your face… It was the same feeling as injecting his veins with a pure shot of adrenaline and anger shrouded in fear. He promised Steve he’d look after you… 

And as Sam carried you out of that warehouse you had the gall to tenderly tell them that you were just fine—as if your mouth weren’t full of blood and a face blooming with patchy bruises. The jealousy that sparked through Bucky’s chest when you clung to Sam’s chest did nothing to help that dark festering pit inside his ribcage he’s attempting to suture back together.

Bucky clenches his jaw. At least you’re asleep now. Curled up against the window, holding your injured arm in a way that limited the turbulence from jostling it. It’s the first time Bucky would describe you as fragile. He know’s you’re anything but that—stubborn mostly—yet most of all brave. It’s what Steve admired most about you—what Bucky loves most about you too. That vibrant spark flowing through your blood and how you’re not afraid to shout along to your favorite songs despite the odd looks you get. Bucky envies how self-assured you are, how you’ll never lose yourself because you know just where you’re headed. He wishes he still had that sort of drive instead of all this uncertainty and guilt clouding each muscle and fibre in his body.      

Bucky doesn’t realize the jet has landed until Sam stands and and places a large hand over your shoulder. Your face scrunches as you whine and curl further into your seat. “C’mon, kiddo.” You grumble something inaudible. “You want me to carry you?”

The delicate plates of vibranium clink together as Bucky’s hand tightens into a fist, jealousy flaring hot and bright. He quickly stands, too fast to be considering anything less than awkward. Sam’s brow quirks. “I can do it.”   

“It’s cool, man,” Sam says as he scoops one arm under your legs and the other around your back. “I got her.”

Bucky bristles. Whatever. 

It’s not like you and him have anything together. A one sided plague of affection that you’ll never know about—he wants to tell you. Fuck, the words burn through his tongue and collect like ashes between his teeth and yet they are never voiced from self sabotage. There’s no possible way to voice how you’ve haunted his thoughts and his dream since the moment his eyes met yours. How he’s memorized the lines of your smile and the sweet sound of your laugh, the sweep of your lashes and the rhythm of your steps. Bucky would know you deaf, blind, numb, in this world or any other twisted reality. 

He had said that he wasn’t afraid of much, but that’s not entirely true. Eternity, oblivion, crowded rooms, being alone too long. And you. You terrify him. You have the power to pluck at the very strings of his soul and unravel him completely until he’s no more—and you don’t even know it. Bucky Barnes is less afraid of dying than he is of loosing you but that fear never once provides him the courage to tell you. You may not be a scribbled name in his book, but he still hopes that one day he’ll earn the chance to strike his cowardice and put to rest the wretched ache in his heart that he feels for you. 

He wishes he told you in Wakanda, after the Blip, Riga, and right this instant. He watches Sam carry you out of the jet—what’s a little more time?

                          -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The sun is beginning to melt into the horizon, turning the expanse of water into molten gold and shimmering blues. The hazy humidity from the late afternoon heat collects at the back of Bucky’s neck and the light breeze does nothing to cool. Bucky sighs and swipes at the bead of sweat creeping down his forehead with the back of his hand—he glances up. 

A ghost of a smile creeps across his lips. You’re exactly where he and Sam left you three hours ago. Surprising to be quite honest—you never did like to stay in one place for longer than ten minutes. You’re a pain in his ass, simply said.  

But now—now you’re haphazardly splayed out on the lawn chair you were forced into, a juice box loosely held in your good hand while the other still remains in the sling. He can’t tell if you’re asleep—Steve’s sunglasses do an excellent job of hiding your eyes. Yet as Bucky wanders closer, your head rolls to your right in greeting. 

“It’s rude to stare, y’know,” you grumble, lifting the juice box to your mouth. Your lips purse around the plastic straw. “And before you ask—yes, I have a very important job I’m currently overseeing.”

Bucky quirks a brow. “What—hogging the lawn chair?”

“No—“ You huff. You gesture with your juice box at the large cooler your sandaled feet are propped up on. “I’m the booze master. God of the ale, destroyer of sobriety—“

“Alright, Booze Master,” Bucky interrupts with a snort. “Why don’t you bestow upon me a beer, your majesty.”

You tap your index finger over your chin as a lazy smile fixes itself over your lips. “Granted.”

You slide your legs off the cooler and with a pained grunt you shift forward. Bucky shoots his arm out and steadies you back against the chair by your shoulder before you get any further. Your face pulls into a grimace.

“I got it, kid. Relax.”

Bucky pops open the cooler and fishes out a beer and pops the cap off between his left index finger and thumb. You watch with a frown, “I could’ve done that for you.” 

Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes and takes a seat on the cooler. The bitter fizz floods his tastebuds as he takes a sip of his drink, a tangible silence blanketing the space between you. He gets it—people like he and you can never settle for complacency. As if the rest isn’t deserved despite the bloody knuckles and the shattered glass that slices through skin—the bruises and the broken bones. None of it is enough—not worthwhile to preserve yourself when other’s so desperately need your help. 

Or maybe it’s penance. 

Bucky sure as shit finds himself swallowed by the black maw of guilt each and every day. Battling the never ending shadow of doubt that clings to his soul like glitter to a an old carpet. Bucky believes it’s safe to say that you’re the same—every good deed you do added to the imaginary scale weighing against the bad despite it feeling hollow and insurmountable. Paying in blood to equate the amount you’ve spilled. A hopeless battle you both insist on fighting. 

Bucky sighs through his nose, bends at the waist and collects both your ankles in his left hand. You let him lift them both and settle your legs over his knees. You shiver, an eruption of goosebumps rushing up your skin at the cold metallic shock of Bucky’s vibranium thumb scrapinh over your bare flesh.

Bucky’s lips tilt down ever so slightly. “Did I hurt you?”

“Never,” you rush to say before he has the chance to flee. “S’just cold.” 

His hum reverberates low in his chest as those cerulean blue eyes fall to his hands. You clench your jaw until your teeth ache as his left thumb continues to stroke over the delicate skin covering the joint of your ankle. This is…new…

You’d been close with Steve and Sam, and by proxy Bucky—in some weird adjunct way. Compared to Sam’s teasing bumps of the shoulder and that infectious laugh far more addicting than the golden liquor of the sun, Bucky is frigid. Still attempting to shake off the whole Winter Soldier thing that’s molded onto his bones like stubborn permafrost. Touch had always been tricky with him—even a friendly pat over the back or a simple tap to the harm had him tensing under the touch—muscle and steel bunching to prepare for a harsh blow that would never arrive. Never from you.         

Bucky rarely sought out your physical comfort—you were always the one to initiate those friendly touches even if he was the type to just sit and ignore you like a grouchy old cat barely clinging onto that ninth life. The first time he breached that fragile barrier was in Wakanda—something in Bucky cracked and split into a cavernous ravine of nebulosity. Stitches shred apart then stapled back together as he grabbed your arm and wrestled you into a bone-crushing hug. You didn’t need to ask to realize he cried the entire time, gripping your shirt like a lifeline while he shuddered and sobbed into the crook of your neck. To him everything from the rain to silk sheets felt like shrapnel and the stars tasted like old blood and the past of things long gone—yet you were familiar. 

A comfort for the much needed healing of the scattered pieces of a man. You don’t mind helping him pick up the tidbits and reattach them with veins of silver. It’s the least you can do. 

The second time occurred after the loss of Steve. Some part of you had been wrenched out with his departure and he never bothered to return it. It doesn’t matter anymore—the hollow ache had been soothed with the Winter Soldier clutching you to his chest until you drifted off into a fitful sleep. A tether to a new reality you both partake in. 

Which brings you to now. There’s no cathartic reasoning behind his touch…it’s simple…a risky leap of faith into unknown territory. Bucky’s eyes lift to meet yours—curiosity swimming in those icy irises. You don’t mind—in fact you quite like the calloused warmth of his hand and the opposing chilly metal one tentatively exploring your exposed skin. 

“You have a scar here,” Bucky murmurs, skimming the thumb made up of flesh and sinew over the mottled skin occupying the crease of where the top of your foot meets your ankle. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I fell on barbed wire.”

“Clumsy,” he chides, quirking a dark brow. 

Your shoulders bounce with a huff. “I was like—twelve when it happened, James.”

His mouth quirks in a half smile, quite liking the validation of his name in the way your mouth speaks it. He wonders if you know the weight of granting you that leeway of calling him that. Shit—he doesn’t care what you call him, everything sounds lovely when you say it. 

There’s another silence—holding your breath until something splits and shatters into a million pieces. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t want anything more than just friendship with Bucky but fear of rejection is a tricky thing. You take the easy way out and offer him the chance of something more on a silver platter. 

“Bucky?”

His fingers whisper up your shin as he inclines his head.              

“I’m tired. Drive me back to Sam’s?”

“Sure thing, doll.” 

                            -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Bucky holds the door open for you as you stumble in, escaping the hazy southern heat. He disappears into the kitchen as you make a beeline straight for the couch, sighing loudly once the plush cushions meet your back. You lazily lift your head once you hear his familiar footfalls nearing. 

With him he brings two Otterpops, one blue raspberry and the other cherry. Once he hands it to you he takes a seat on your left, close enough that his thigh and shoulder bumps against yours. “Don’t tell Sarah’s kids that these were the last ones.”

You roll your eyes and promptly stick the Otterpop into you mouth. “‘M ain’t no snitch.”

His low chuckle reverberates through his chest. The silence that follows isn’t an awkward one as you enjoy the cold treat—it’s filled with the humming cicada bugs outside and the breeze through the wind chimes. Comfortable with the normalcy—just a couple of regular old people enjoying life for a suspended amount of seconds.  

Once you finish the Otter Pop, you crumple the plastic up and rest it on the coffee table. He does the same—hints of the blue syrup sticking to the cracks of his plush lips. You force yourself to avert your eyes. You cheeks heat with a flush as you rush to occupy your mind with anything but wild fantasies of Bucky’s mouth. You lean forward again, pointedly ignoring the way Bucky’s eyes track your movements as you shuck off your sling, the prickle of unused muscles and bruised ligaments rushing through the limb. You wince as you slowly roll your shoulder. 

The muscles in Bucky’s jaw clenches. You sigh—he’s still blaming himself for your injuries. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not everyone has freaky healing powers, Buck,” you snort. You rush to appease him when he frowns. “It’s getting better though. Still can’t sleep on it—but eh.” 

“I’m sorry.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. No matter how many times you tell him he’ll never believe you. That’s something only he can fix. Doesn’t stop you from telling him anyway. “Stop blaming yourself for my idiocy. I made my choice and paid the price for it.”

Bucky’s eyes drop to his hands. “Can’t help it, sweetheart. Steve told me to look after you.”

Your heart constricts within your chest like a fist. You inhale and reach out to rest your hand over his wrist. “Funny—he told me the same thing about you.”

It surprises him—his dark brows furrow as his mouth parts, but nothing comes forth. Grappling with the right words that fit with what he feels. He’s still learning how to give his soul a name that fits. Learning how to take the dark, twisted bramble of his heart and make it into something that doesn’t ache each time it beats. He’s still learning how to look himself in the eyes, point to himself and say that there’s nothing frightening in there. Not anymore. No more. 

You suck in a breath and muster up the embers of courage. Here goes nothing— 

You cup Bucky’s cheek, the scrape of stubble welcome against your warm palm as you gently turn his face to look at you. His eyes drift to yours when the mumbled syllables of his name tumble from your lips. His eyes are framed with dark circles of wildflower bruises, his small smile a moonbeam stark against battered skin. You’ve dreamt so many times of swallowing it whole and pressing him close enough that your heartstrings become entangled with no hope of separation. But that’s something for him to decide. 

You drop your hand cradling Bucky’s jaw, but before your hand completely falls Bucky surges forward. His large hands rush to cup your face, swallowing your noise of surprise as his plush lips fall onto yours. The syrupy flavor of a Blue Raspberry Otter Pop he stole from Sarah’s freezer lingers on Bucky’s mouth, mixed in with the smell of old leather and cracked cardamom. Bucky nips at your bottom lip, tugging once and then rolling it between the blunt enamel of his teeth. Despite all the bad jokes regarding his age and senior citizen status—fuck he’s a damn good kisser. Compared to him you feel clumsy, sloppy, but no matter how hard you search for his distaste he doesn't seem to care in the slightest—if anything he’s pulling you closer. 

Bucky’s kisses may taste like the middle of June and a first love, but desperation lines every action like a wound with jagged edges. It’s a slow process learning to be free, but one day he’ll transform into starlight—and instead of a kiss like fire, it’ll be like touching your lips to a constellation’s aureate mouth.   

When Bucky pulls away, sucking in air and resting his forehead on yours, you catch a whiff of his hair. Freshly washed and smelling a bit like Sam’s shampoo. Your lips quirk. You’ll make sure to keep that a secret from Sam.

You pull back just enough to meet his eye, resting your palm over his vibranium hand that still cups your cheek. “Am I the first person you’ve kissed since the stone ages?”

His lips pull into a cheeky smile. “Maybe.”

You laugh and roll your eyes, skating your palm down the front of his shirt, the heat of his skin near searing through the fabric. “I guess we have a lot of catching up to do, huh?”

Bucky’s lips smother your small moan as he drags you into another kiss. You can feel his smile as he murmurs his agreement between desperate kisses and the enticing warmth of his tongue skimming along yours. The next time you part for air, Bucky drops his strong hands from your face to instead wrap them around the curve of your hips. He tugs you over his right thigh with ease and breathes a gentle sigh of your name, beginning to pepper kisses over you cheek and down the slope of your jaw.

Bucky reaches your ear and carefully nibbles the cartilage, his voice a warm scrape in your ear. “I want you.”

It’s such a simple phrase…and yet…it tears through you and pools like a heavy weight right to your center. “Then take me.”

Quick as a strike of a match, you’re tipped backwards, cradled right between the arm of the couch and the back of it. Heat rushes through each limb and gathers in your cheeks as Bucky’s vibranium fingers skate up your chest and curl around the column of your throat—that hardened soldier he’s tried to bury bleeding through the cracks of his resolve. You don’t care. You gasp into his mouth as he squeezes ever so slightly while he pushes a firm thigh between your legs. Shit—this is how you’re gonna die—grinding on Bucky’s muscled leg while he’s got a hand around your throat. 

What a way to go.    

With his other hand he grips the meat of your thigh and pulls you higher, grinding the rough material of his jeans covering his crotch into yours. You whine and arch into him. You need more. 

You both stay here for a good while up until it feels like you’re ready to burst at the seems if you don’t have him now. Bucky is no better—cheeks flushed as he fumbles with the zipper to relieve the noticeable bulge straining against it. Impatient and needy, you shoo away his hands and do it yourself, easily sliding your warm hand down his navel and over his boxers to palm at his cock. Bucky’s hand twitches around your neck, a sweet groan filling the air when you softly squeeze him through the elastic.

“Fuck, you’re gonna…” Bucky trails off and buries his nose into the crook of your neck. “Gonna make me cum in my pants if you don’t—don’t stop.”

While the thought is tempting, you want this to last just a little bit longer. Rush after the glorious high of just being near him, his kisses, everything about him. Bucky grunts at the loss of your hand and mouths a wet trail of sloppy kisses up your neck and returns to your lips. When you part he sweeps a stray strand of hair and tucks it behind your ear. He smiles softly.

“Can I try something?” He breaths. Before he can even tell you what his idea is, you’re happily nodding along. “Wanna taste you. Been thinking about it ever since Wakanda.”

Oof. His words shoot straight your center. “Bucky—why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

His mouth quirks. “You make me nervous.”

Rolling your eyes you plant a kiss on his forehead and grant him his simple desire. Bucky sits and slides to the floor, close enough that he’s still able to hover over you. You lift your hips as Bucky tugs your shorts and underwear down and off your legs. Besides the general anxieties of being half naked in front of an incredibly attractive man and performing something so sinful on a friend’s couch—there’s a strange stroke of pride that alights through each of your vertebrae. A powerful man willingly dropping to his knees to please you. 

Bucky shoots you a smile and slides his hands around your ribcage, bends forward slightly and captures you mouth in a deep kiss. He parts and nips down your jaw and over your throat, sliding his tongue over the marks he leaves with his teeth as if to soothe the slight sting. You whine and arch into him as he slides lower, leaving an obvious trail of bruises and teeth marks in his wake until he reaches the collar of your shirt. Bucky moves his palms under the fabric to grab at your breasts, the flats of his fingertips rolling over your nipples that peak through your bra. You suck in a shaky breath when Bucky catches the pebbled bud between his forefinger and thumb, the hard vibranium of his fingers scraping over it. A low hum rumbles through his chest as he leans forward to playfully nip at your collarbone.

“I wanna see you naked.” Bucky admits as he slips his hands out of your shirt. You shiver as those chilly metal fingers gently come to rest on the outside of your bare thighs. 

“Not here, Buck,” you sigh. “T-they—fuck—they can come back any minute.”

Bucky quirks a brow, eyes dropping between your legs, then back up with a smirk. His plush lips part, yet before he can disprove your silly point—that your bare ass is already out and taking off the shirt would barely make a difference—you interject. 

“Shut up.”

His shoulders bounce with a chuckle. “You have such a way with words, y’know that?”

You make a noise low in your throat and reach out to sharply tug his ear. He easily bats your hand aside, hooks his hands under your ass and hauls until you’re all but hanging over the edge of the cushions. You squirm, unable close your legs or to relieve some of that burning tension collecting in your core as Bucky lowers himself and wedges his shoulder between your thighs. He slides his hand over your calfs and wrestles them over his broad shoulders—earning a perfect view of your pussy. You’re already wet—worked up and running on borrowed time. You roll your head back onto the back of the couch and clench your jaw. You don’t want to rush him but Christ—you really don’t want Sam or Sarah to find you like this.   

It feels like ages before Bucky’s lips touch your belly and then your navel with his warm tongue. With a grunt he shoves your shirt up to your breasts and circles your bellybutton with the tip of his tongue—his enhanced strength easily pinning you down as you jerk and giggle.

Bucky picks up his head and grins. “Try and hold still, doll.”

No sharp retort comes to mind. Fuck—he’s already got you so expertly wrapped around his finger. 

Bucky hums, satisfied with your weak nod and continues on.  

Bucky’s bare fingers trace minuscule patterns into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, coaxing out a shiver that rushes through your body. They tickle towards the apex of your thighs and settle close enough to reach your aching center. He pauses for a moment and while you know he’s there, you curse when you feel his thumbs softly part the lips of your soaking cunt. They gently work up and down, smearing your wetness around but never enough to give you any friction as your body adjusts to the feel of flash and vibranium. You bite back a groan as your hips unconsciously twitch. 

Unsatisfied with simply touching you, Bucky shifts his weight to better reach your core. “Fuck—you’re so pretty.”   

There's a moment just before Bucky swoops down, face hovering close enough that you can feel his sticky, warm breath fan across you inner thighs. Anticipation grips your heart with an iron hold, and then— Bucky licks a broad stripe from the base of your cunt all the way up to your swollen clit. His mouth is molten, tongue like liquid velvet as you shudder and grab at his hair. Bucky grunts against you as you drag him closer by the short strands—greedy for any and all touch he gifts you. Bucky’s mouth slips around your clit, sucking and tracing circles over the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut as a quiet moan wrenches free from your vocal cords.  

He trails lower, sucks on your labia, and makes his way down to your soaking entrance. The wet heat of his tongue circles your cunt, skips over it completely to catch the wetness before it leaks over the couch. Bucky opens his mouth wide and groans in appreciation, devouring your pussy like he’s been denied this his entire life. Desperation lingers on his tongue and all you are is the honey sweet taste of salvation. 

“Shit—Bucky,” you cry, throwing your hips forward in search of more friction.

It's perfect. So fucking delicious. 

You tense as the vibranium tips of his fingers, two of them, press at your entrance, teasing the clenching ring of soft muscle before sinking in. The chilly digits slip in with ease—all the way up to the second knuckle and when he draws them back, they're slick with your wetness. With a self-satisfied grin, Bucky thrusts them back in, then out—setting a steady pace that makes everything ache with desire. It leaves you just hovering over the sharp edge of ecstasy, the catch of his knuckles and imperceptible metal plating dragging along your walls pure torture. Fuck—he’s going to be the death of you—

Bucky’s mouth dips down a second time and sucks on your clit and with a few more curls and thrusts of his fingers inside of your clenching walls, your body seizes up tight. You're flying off that edge, faster than a fucking freight train. You cum onto his tongue and fingers with a strangled cry of his name, sparks of blurry white lining the edges of your vision as your back arches. Bucky continues to lick you through your orgasm, even as you buck and squirm in his iron hold. Supernovas implode behind your eyelids as heat, hotter than wildfire and jet fuel spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're shaking, lucid enough to hear Bucky murmur his praise—feeling the vibration of his groan, as he licks up the flood of your wetness over his tongue. 

Your brain swims in hazy bliss as you float back to reality. He's still curling his fingers into your pussy and it damn near hurts. You're too sensitive. Nerves rubbed raw and still throbbing—but you're too fucked out and still riding the waves of your orgasm to push him away. Bucky is all too happy to remain between your legs—takes this opportunity to tilt his fingers into your cunt faster, suckle and lave his hot tongue over your clit that burns from overstimulation—somehow you're back at the very edge again.

It's sharper than a vibranium razor against bare flesh. Your thighs shake around him as he twists his fingers inside you and bumps agains that tiny, little patch of nerves. You cry out as an orgasm floods through you veins, rupturing each cell in your being with molten pleasure. Your core pulses around Bucky’s fingers, fucking you through it until those burning waves of release eventually cease to a fading throb. You whine and push at his forehead because he's still going. You panic a bit—fucking hell, he’s gonna make you cry—but he pulls away, his mouth and chin wet with your slick. 

“Feel good?” Bucky purrs, resting his cheek on your thigh. 

If judging by the way you thighs still quiver and your chest heaves—then yeah—it felt good. 

Cheeky bastard.  

“Get up here—“

You grapple with his shirt, fisting the thin fabric, but he’s heavy and your entire body feels like jello. Your grip strength is all but laughable at the moment as Bucky clambers back onto the couch and grabs both of your legs, slotting his narrow hips between them. One leg is stuck against the back of the couch while the other hangs off the edge, foot skimming the hardwood floor to accommodate Bucky. Not the most comfortable but fuck it—who cares.    

Bucky grunts when you lift your hands and hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, tugging them halfway down his legs with a sharp yank. Already a dark patch of wetness stains the fabric of his boxers, the impressive bulge straining against the elastic and begging to be released. Your eyes meet his icy blue ones as you slowly pull his boxers over his cock. It bounces up towards his navel, thick and beautiful just like the rest of him. 

Impatient, Bucky’s fingers curl around your wrist and presses your open palm against his cock. He’s thick and heavy in your hand—perfect. The bead of precum that pools at his flushed tip smears against the inside of your palm as you experimentally roll your wrist, fascinated with the feel of his foreskin rolling over the steel heard flesh with each stroke.You give his a cock a rougher squeeze, a bolt of liquid heat settling in the pit of your stomach as a stifled moan reaches your ears. 

A sharp hiss of hair passes through his clenched teeth as you lightly tug on his cock. From the base up you pull, fixed upon the throbbing flesh, flushed and pulsing and all for you. His cock bobs when you let go—he huffs out a disappointed noise. “I need you, Buck—please.” 

Your previous two orgasms did seemingly nothing to soothe the growing ache for him. It prickles up your spine and singes through every nerve and bone—you whine and arch your hips, trying to touch your slick cunt to his cock. Bucky growls your name and pins your hips to the couch with ease. 

With his left hand, Bucky firmly grips your jaw, his stare folding into something serious. “You sure?”

Your tongue runs over your bottom lip. You grin. “Do your worst.”

Bucky curses and readjusts your calf slung over his hip and grips the base of his cock. You shudder as he runs the blunt head through your folds, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the flesh of his forearm as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and arch. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s certainly not small in any way shape or form. You’ll feel him for days afterwards as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw clenched tight as sweat beads at his hairline. Shit—he’s gorgeous—struggling not to loose control the moment he’s buried inside of you. You allow yourself to adjust for a moment but your own impatience rakes down your spine with claws of scorching arousal. You rock your hips in curiosity and squeeze around him. 

“Fuck—“ A ragged moans severs his words as your gentle rocking tilts into abrasive jolts. At this angle it’s difficult to fuck yourself onto his cock, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. His left hand shoots to your throat, the chilly metal a stark contrast to your flushed skin. You dip your head back, exposing more of your supple skin—all his for the taking. 

You dig the heel of your foot into the small of his back and grab at his shoulders—tempting him into fucking you already. You’ve waited long enough. Bucky snarls your name, hooks one hand under your ass and pulls his cock nearly all the way, out only to slam back in with devastating force. There’s no time to adjust or gather your obliterated thoughts before Bucky sets a pace, desperate and feral. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what seems like a millennia—and maybe it has been. Bucky shifts, widening his knees as much as he can to sink lower onto your body—his soft hair tickles your cheek as his choppy exhales burn hot over your skin. 

Bucky turns his head to steal a kiss, open mouthed and catastrophic. No words are exchanged as he fucks into you with brutal strength aided by that damn super-soldier serum—there’s no need for them, not now anyway. You complete each other without the spoken utterances—still both a work in progress. Though most things are you suppose—constantly remaking yourselves, but instead of smashing the haphazard pieces back together alone—you have one another. You bury your hand in his hair and cry his name.  

You choke out another groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter and damn—you really hope nothing gets on this stupid couch. You don’t want to explain that Sam. 

Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, blazing through each and every vein with the brilliance of a wildfire escaping the edges of the forest. This is gonna ruin you. Bucky’s hand reaches between your bodies and rubs tight, controlled circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a calamitous surge of warmth that sweeps your very soul off its feet. Your nails dig into Bucky's back as you shake and fumble for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor. 

You have no time to recover because he’s still going. Thrusting into your pussy with violent slaps that echo through the room and will more than likely leave bruises against your ass. Through the pressure of his hand over your windpipe—threatening to cut your air off completely—you garble out his name. Bucky drops his head to his chin, the weight of his gaze landing between your legs, watching the way his entire length disappears inside of you. When he raises his head he molds his mouth to yours. The soft, wet kisses rapidly morph into pricks of his teeth, his gravelly moans so pleasing to hear. 

You arch and tilt your head back as he presses you harder into the couch. The vibranium hand latched onto your jaw, works it open and slides a thumb past your plush lips. You lave your tongue over the digit—the metallic tang flooding your tastebuds. “Good girl—m’close. A little longer.”

Bucky’s panting breaths mingle with yours as his pace turns vicious. Chasing his high that he so desperately needs. Overstimulation bites at your nerves, but with a gentle tug to the soft strands of hair on the back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, Bucky bursts. His moan jumps up an octave, eyes slamming shut as he buries his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he cums. He’s shuddering in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides. You whine and tilt your hips up to prevent it from spilling onto the couch. 

Finally he slows to a stop, ragged breathing filling the air as the heat and weight of his body becomes a welcome comfort. Eventually that warmth grows stifling. He lazily pulls away, observing gaze drinking in each inch of bare skin exposed—the marks and the light sheen of sweat. You hiss as he curiously drags his thumb over the bite mark lingering just above your collarbone.

He parts his plush lips but before he can apologize, you interject. “Don’t—I like the reminder.”

Bucky shakes his head and drops down to tempt your lips into a lazy dance. “You’re a weirdo.”

You smile and cup his cheek. “I’m not the one with a staring problem. You know that you can’t kill people by glaring, right?”

Bucky kisses your cheek, your jaw, and then the dip of your throat. “You don’t ever shut up, do you?” 

You shudder as his softening cock twitches inside of you, another coal of desire flaring in the pit of your stomach. You flash him a coquettish grin. “Maybe if you give my mouth something to do, you’ll finally get some peace and quiet.” 

Something dark and dangerous flickers within those eyes. You shiver as one hand returns to your throat while the other draws teasing patterns over the outside of your thigh. He draws in close, nips at the shell of your ear and chuckles darkly. “You’re on.”

[reidyoulikeabook]

A is for Ankle Socks

Summary: The first installment in my A-Z of Spencer Reid series. Spencer Reid is very particular about his socks.

Ship: fem ! BAU reader x Spencer Reid

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Discussions of case-typical violence, blood, brief description of a fight, minor injury to reader that requires some stitches.

A/N: hello! this is my first ever series and i’m very nervous about it! it’s going to be a chronological a-z series with Spencer, detailing the progression of your relationship!

Spencer Reid permanently wears odd socks. The only time you can recall him wearing matching ones, in the year you’ve known him, was on days he had to go to court. Then, it was required that he wear the technically mandated uniform of proper leather shoes, and monochrome socks. On those days, Hotch would turn up with a pair of black socks tucked into his briefcase, just in case. Spencer had needed them, twice.

However, today is not a court day. Today is day 8 of a case in back of beyond Oregon that, quite frustratingly, seems to be going absolutely nowhere.

It says quite a lot, really, that in a day spent combing over convicts with domestic violence charges, the sight you look up to see is more viscerally disturbing. Spencer’s perched on the end of a desk, as he so often seems to be, his ankles crossed over each other. Signature black converse on his feet. And he appears...not to be wearing socks?

He notices you looking at him, and flicks his eyes downward self-consciously, “Is something wrong?”

“Are you wearing socks?”

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Uh. No. I meant to go to the laundrette last night but then Hotch called us into that meeting. I wasn’t expecting to be out here this long.”

“Is it comfortable?” You ask, “Wearing those without socks?”

He kicks his feet around just slightly, “Not really. I guess I’d forgotten about it until you mentioned.”

“Sorry,” You say, with an apologetic smile.

“Not your fault,” He says, looking back at the paperwork in his lap, “Hey would you mind coming to take a look at this actually? I think I might have something.”

***

By day 2, you’d learnt that the only sandwich shop in town had a reputation for bad food hygiene that none of you felt like risking. Normally, everyone would roll their eyes at Spencer for his investigation into such things. However, in this case, everyone else seemed to be as thankful as you always were.

It’s your turn to do the lunch run today, so you head to the grocery store that isn’t too far out of town. Putting your car in park, you mentally run through the list that the team had given you: cheap pasta for everyone but Rossi, who was willing to risk running foul of their microwave meal selection, as many coffee supplies as you could manage, some sour gummy worms for Spencer, mineral water for Hotch, and tights for you. It was frankly quite impractical to wear the things. You ran through so many brambles, fell down so many times, that you almost felt you should get pantyhose hazard pay. In fall in Oregon though? You’d splash out the $6 for the sake of preventing frostbite. If only because Hotch would be furious.

You smile at the thought. Wandering through the aisles, you collect everything you need. Spencer only asked for a pack of sour gummy worms, but, with a smile on your face, you decide to get him the strawberry laces he likes too.

It’s only when you scan the cart, last minute, that you realise what you’ve forgotten.

Tights. Shit.

Wheeling the cart around, you weave through the aisles looking for them. The underwear aisle is aisle 20, and it looks like it’s been ransacked. Flicking through the disorganised display, you see them.

A five pack of socks, adorned with farm animals and backgrounds of a completely clashing colour. It’s almost too bright for you, but you know a certain sockless Spencer who will be sure to appreciate them. Out of curiousity, you navigate your way over to the men’s section and have a look through. Mostly, it’s all black and navy. Right at the back though, you spy a similarly garish looking pack, this time with vegetables on.

You put them in the basket, eyes flickering over a pair of matching aubergine patterned boxers, as you make your way over to the tights. You select your usual kind, turning your attention back to the boxers.

Is it weird to get him boxers?

He’d know it was a joke, right?

Is it weird to get him socks?

Well he didn’t have any

Yeah but you don’t need to get him two packs

Yes I do we might be here a while

10 more days?

He could fall. He could spill coffee on his shoes. He could get shot.

How would socks help with him getting shot?

Your internal monologue gives you a moments reprieve, and then.

Kinda weird you got him socks

Nobody else would have got him socks

Yeah well I’m just thoughtful.

The last thought crosses your mind without permission, and you almost bristle at the brazenness of your lie to yourself. However, you decide, examining the real reasons you’re so eager to provide comfort to your favourite co-worker would require mental stamina you didn’t have right now. Mental stamina that would be better put to use on the case at hand. Mental stamina that definitely wasn’t being used to employ the BAU’s favourite defense mechanism: denial.

***

“I got you a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Spencer spins around in his chair to face you.

“Yep,” You say, plopping the sweets down onto the desk in front of him and grinning.

“Strawberry laces!” He says, smile lighting up his face, “Thanks ____!”

“That’s not the surprise.”

He quirks his brow, confusion tugging at his features, “Then what’s the surprise?”

You untuck your arms from behind your back, handing him the pairs of socks.

He looks down at them. He’s silent for a moment, and your heart thuds.

Fuck.

Told you it was weird.

It’s definitely weird.

He definitely thinks you’re-

You don’t have time to finish that thought, however, because Spencer scoots his chair back. Standing up, he pulls you into a hug. He gently squeezes you, and when he speaks his voice is low, cracking a little.

“Thank you,” He says quietly, “That was really thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

You lean into him, allowing yourself to be enveloped, “No problem. I know you have some issues with sensory things sometimes and I just thought, you know,” you trail off, “Anyway, I didn’t know which ones you’d prefer and I know you like to mix and match anyway so I just got both.”

He doesn’t say anything. But he squeezes you again, tighter this time, before releasing you. Strangely, he won’t meet your eye as he does.

“I’m gonna go put them on, okay?”

“Okay,” You say, watching a little quizically as he hurriedly heads out of the room.

Derek happens to be heading back to the room, bumping into Spencer on his way out.

“You alright kid?” He asks.

“I'm fine," Spencer says, waving him off. He tries to avoid meeting Derek’s eyes, knowing as well as he does that if the profiler catches the look on his face he’ll be found out.

Derek allows him to shrug past him with a confused glance over his shoulder. He walks into the room, scooping the nearest file off the desk and asking in your general direction, “You know what’s up with him?”

“Nope,” You say, popping the p.

You don’t. And it’d bother you, except you genuinely don’t have time right now to dwell on it. Although, try as you might to focus on narrowing down this list of factories in the area, it niggles at you.

***

You don’t see Spencer again until you’re heading out to the unsubs location. You get called out by Hotch in the minute before he returns, and then it’s all guns blaring. Emily and Dave managed to work some magic with Penelope, and the place he’s holding the hostage has been narrowed down to a factory quite far out of town.

You’re perched in the back, discussing entry tactics with Hotch when your eyes travel down to Spencer’s shoes.

One chicken, and one broccoli sock sit on his left and right feet respectively. It’s hard to see them though, with how far they are down his feet.

Hotch answers his phone then, immediately barking down commands at the local PD who are apparently failing to summon adequate manpower, in Hotch’s opinion at least.

You take the moment to cautiously lean over to Spencer, whispering, “Were they not the right size?”

He smiles at you, “They fit just fine as ankle socks.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to check the sizes, womens ones are pretty much all one size. I completely forget that men have massively different sized feet.”

He laughs, “Are you suggesting I have huge feet?”

You feel yourself flush a little, “I don’t think that’d necessarily be an inaccurate suggestion.”

Amused, he smiles. Hotch turns around to you both, momentarily taking his eyes off the road, “I need you to call Penelope, and tell her to get us all the CCTV she can get in the area. If we’re going to have to go in without enough men to cover the perimeter we’ll need all the tactical advantages we can get.”

“Of course, sir.”

***

Lunging forward, you tackle the unsub to the ground, effectively freeing Spencer from the grasp he’d previously been held in.

“It’s over Peter,” Hotch’s voice comes, even and steady.

“No it’s not.”

Before you can even register what’s happening, you’re being tossed backwards, landing against some barbed wire. Immediately, you’re on your feet again, running after him. Not noticing how the wire has ripped a hole in your tights, and cut into your leg a little.

Grabbing his arms behind him, you use all your strength to subdue him to the floor, handcuffing him. Wiping the sweat off your brow, you breathe out a deep sigh of relief.

Derek has it from there, patting you on the shoulder and giving you a “Good job kiddo.” He leads Peter out.

You rub your chest, feeling the adrenaline start to flood out of your body with all the excitement now over. A stinging senstation in your calf gets your attention, and looking down you see the nasty wound oozing blood. It isn’t much, nothing that two stitches won’t fix.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks, having gotten up from his position on the floor, “You didn’t have to...Derek would have gotten him.”

“Why should he be the only one that gets to tackle people?” You ask, letting out a breathless tinkle of a laugh.

“Statistically, he is the one who does the most tackling out of all of us. Then Hotch, then Emily, then Rossi, then me, then you.”

“I am not the one that tackles the least,” You say indignantly.

He tips his head to the side, “Are you gonna argue with the guy who has an eidetic memory or are we going to get you stitched up?”

“Both, please.”

He laughs at that, linking his arm around your waist. You limp against him a little, out to the paramedics. Mostly it’s for Spencer’s benefit. That’s what you tell yourself, you’re letting him help you so he doesn’t feel emasculated.

When has Spencer Reid ever fallen pray to toxic masculinity?

He might have

When?

Well he could

You just like how he smells

It’s true. The faint waft of his cologne is incredibly comforting. He doesn’t loosen his grip on you for even a second, helping to hoist you so you can sit on the ambulance bed while the medics attend to your leg. You’re feeling a little woozy, so Spencer sits next to you, allowing you to lean on him for support.

“Can you tell me something?” You ask, gritting your teeth, “Distract me?”

It doesn’t really hurt, getting stitched up, you’ve just never found it the most comfortable of processes. All your favourite cases have ended with you not having to get sewn up. You know that much.

“I’ve actually only tackled one more person than you in my entire BAU career,” He says, deciding to return to your former discussion, “I didn’t really go out in the field all that much until a couple years in, it was only because of Hotch that I really went out in the field to take down an unsub for the first time. That was March 12th, 2005. You’ve only been here 9 months and have done almost as much physical stuff as me. One more and we’re even.”

“Well, if you could try not to be the person getting tackled by the unsub next time. Then I might not have to make a tackle.”

His mouth turns up at the corner, “You tackled him for me?”

You feel yourself growing embarassed, “Not for you. For the socks.”

“Oh the socks?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s a little unfair to go putting yourself in harms way while wearing a gift someone got for you. 5 dollar socks Spencer, practically designer at that price, I’d hate to see them ruined day one.”

He laughs, his tone playful, “Well you’ll need to bare that in mind.”

“Huh?”

He tilts his head towards Emily, strutting her way across to the ambulance with Spencer’s go-bag in her arms. She hands it to him, smiling at you.

“Should I let Morgan know the team will no longer be in need of his services?”

You snort, “I’d hate to steal his brand.”

She shakes her head, “Drinks when we get back? Hotch said the jet’s ready for whenever you’re done, and Rossi says he’s buying.”

“You got it,” You nod.

She pats you on the shoulder, exaggeratedly eyeing your leg again and rolling her eyes as she walks away, “Idiot.”

You smile, turning back towards Spencer, “Are you coming for drinks? I can drive you home.”

He visibly considers it for a moment, “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

“You’re all done here,” The paramedic interrupts, wiping down your leg with an anti-bacterial wipe, “Was a really smooth tear for barbed wire, shouldn’t leave that much of a scar.”

They press a bandage over it and you thank them, getting to your feet with the help of Spencer.

“Wait, why’d you get Emily to bring your go-bag if we’re going home?”

He looks almost bashful. Out of his bag, he pulls a three pack of tights. Just the kind you always wear. Down to your preferred brand, and everything.

“When did you-?”

“I noticed you rip them a lot while we’re on cases. I didn’t know if it was weird but then...the socks?” He gestures at his feet, floundering, “I’m sorry if that’s...I just didn’t-”

“No,” You cut off his ramble, “No, Spencer, that’s really sweet. Thank you, thank you so much. Can I hug you?”

He nods, happily. You wrap him into your arms, pressing your face against his chest. Inhaling the scent of him. Reveling in how safe you feel, how protected, thinking how you’d take three hundred stitches if it meant you got Spencer out of harms way. He was so thoughtful, so kind, so attentive to detail.

Oh fuck.

You can barely look at him. It hits you like a train, the realisation. Co-workers save each other from unsubs. Friends buy each other gifts that have meaning and value. But only somebody who is in love feels like this when they get handed tights. Oh.

It’s a warm feeling. Overwhelming. So much so that you miss Spencer saying he’ll be right back, scooting off to Rossi who’s shouting him over with a question the local PD need answering for their report.

You stumble a little, thankful that you have the blood loss and adrenaline rush to blame if anybody were to notice.

You wait for the wave of denial to hit, to come and lock your feelings back in the treasure chest you’ve managed to shove them down into now. It doesn’t come. Instead, you look at Spencer with a sense of awe that feels newfound, but has actually been here all along. Watching him speak to Rossi, you really notice him: just how much he gestures with his hands, how quickly he relays information, how the huge smile on his face, when he turns around to notice you staring, truly meets his eyes.

***

You can’t tell if it makes you a good profiler, or somewhat of a stalker, that you notice Spencer wears the ankle socks you got him to work everyday for the next 9 days.

Spencer worries he’s being a little too obvious, but he can’t help that whenever he sees the socks he beams at them. They remind him of you. Unbeknownst to everybody but Dave (who somehow notices everything), he spends a good minute or so a day sneaking a peek at the novelty socks under his converse. And then trailing his eyes over to you. Thinking how much he loves the person who got them for him.

----

B is for Blindfolds

Tagslist (this is just people who replied to the post about this series and said they’d like to be tagged! let me know if you’d like to be added/removed to this series masterlist): @reidingmelodies @rem-ariiana

[you-did-well-moon]

Day6 Reaction to s/o learning their instrument while they're away

Type: Fluff, angst in Dowoon dont know what happened wasnt me

Word Count: 2.865

A/n: I took some creative freedom with why they were away but that is it. Keep in mind, I have no experience with instrument except for when I played the piano in 5th grade for like two weeks. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! - Moon

TW: small cuts, fight, second hand embarrassment

Sungjin

Sungjin was absolutely and devastatingly exhausted. His own guitar case felt like it was weighing him down tremendously, and he had a huge headache. Jae and Wonpil arguing in the back of the car was not helping in any way. It has been going on since they left the airport. He rubbed at his temples tiredly pressing his head against the cool window from his place in the passenger seat next to their manager. 

Still, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he thought about seeing you, probably curled up in the couch cheeks puffed from the snack you were inhaling. The pounding in his head lightened at the cute sight he would soon get to enjoy as he played with the loose threads of his old button up shirt. 

True to Sungjin’s imagination, your form was sitting on the couch. Not true to his imagination, you were actually bent over something in your lap, lightly humming and bopping your head to the rhythm being produced by your still clumsy fingers. The guitar in your lap had gotten lighter as the days went by without your boyfriend, and in replacement of his touch, leaving your fingertips warm and tingling, it was small cuts you hadn’t bothered to bandage as it disrupted you when playing.

 You missed Sungjin an abnormal amount. The cold spot in the bed or him making weird faces at you through the mirror in the mirror when brushing your teeth. You missed all of it. With a slight tremble in your chest you started playing the chorus to “You Were beautiful”.

You were so focused on trying to get it right you didn’t notice the door closing only to startle when you slightly looked up through your lidded eyes seeing the shadow looming over the coffee table. With a small yelp of surprise you jumped immediately looking up only to find your boyfriend staring at you with wide eyes. 

His surprised expression made you shrink into yourself. You threw your head into your hands in pure embarrassment letting the guitar gently slide off your lap, hitting the floor with a soft thump. “Can you just pretend you didn’t see that I can’t believe I even tried learning all that by myself I” you cut yourself off with an un-pleased sigh shaking your head and looking at him with pleading eyes. 

Your boyfriend continued in his frozen state for about five seconds before breaking out in the biggest smile rushing around the coffee table in which you panicked trying to get away from him with a squeal, but being too slow im the excitement that was usually in a much dormant state in Sungjin. The wrinkles near the corner of his eyes deepened adoringly, and his chest shook with soft laughter while he held you close. 

There was a fond twinkle in his eye as Sungjin forgot any tiredness that clung to his bones and kissed the tips of your fingertips while maintaining eye contact. He kept your hands encased in his when scolding you for having such low faith in yourself and softly encouraging you. He would probably put little stitch band-aids on your fingertips and continue teaching you, sitting you on his lap and scolding you when you lose focus with a sharp poke at your ribs smiling when you giggled. This man just fell impossibly more in love with you.

“You shouldn’t say those things, look at you love, learning all alone and doing so well. I'm so proud. Would you rather have the elmo band-aids or the stitch band-aids… I don’t know about you but Elmo kinda creeps me out. Just five more minutes little love then you can go mug Young k with Dowoon. Don’t look at me like that! You finally have a teacher and you take him for granted. The audacity-”

Jae

Jae was a thin hair away from just ripping his hair out. He didn’t believe the kpop industry would take very kindly to him going bald, but he had come to a point where he didn’t really care about what people thought anymore. But thinking about you not being able to play with his hair anymore while he drifted off to sleep with his head on your chest severely upset him.

 Jae had gotten stuck in another limbo, stuck in the studio and in his own head desperately trying to finish any of the unfinished songs left in his computer files. He missed you so much, he eventually called it quits, deciding to go home to you, who he hadn’t seen in days.

Just the thought about seeing you energized his previously exhausted self. He never could get sick of you. Every day, every week was a new adventure, a new chapter, all with his favorite person in the world. The night sky, although beautiful, seemed to mock him, reminding him of how late it was, meaning you were most probably asleep. 

Opening the door to his apartment, he heard soft music. He briefly recognized “I Need Somebody”, and thought you were playing it from your phone. All his thoughts came to a halting stop when he saw you perched on the bed, in his shirt, playing the melody of the previously mentioned song.

You had hair falling into your eyes with your eyebrows slightly scrunched trying not to mess up and heavily focused. Jae had loudly yelled in surprise, causing you to flinch and look up shocked at the sudden surprise. When you saw it was just him, you had comically thrown your hands in the air yelling at him about how it was supposed to be a surprise. 

The irritated look on your face vanished as you went up to give him a light hug with a kiss, softly smiling at him. Meanwhile Jae, was completely out of it, lovestruck eyes while he instinctively returned your affection.

“Come Jae, you look like you haven’t slept in ages, your eyes are so sunken babe”, you had softly whispered to him, rubbing the soft skin under his eyes, the way you were always soft with him when he came back from the studio. You slept in the same bed for the first time in what had been days, Jae tightly clutching on to you.

 He may have not been completely there at the moment, but in the morning when he had time to process everything, he was a changed man. He wouldn’t stop laughing and giggling excitedly, eagerly wanting to hear everything you had learnt. He even poked fun at you when you made a mistake. But it was all lovingly as he also praised you non stop while looking at you with his messy hair and big smile next to you on the couch. He had so much inspiration now. To finish what had been left behind.

“Pop off queen who gave you this much talent, you couldn’t even tell me what bass was last time we talked, which was like a week ago. Might just make you play when I don’t feel like playing. Give you a wig and people won’t know the difference! Why are you booing me, I'm right?”

Young K

Young K’s foot tapping on the floor of the car was the only sound that filled the car aside from the soft sound of the car’s engine and tires. He was absolutely spent, having to have stayed in a different city for a show he was invited to that was filmed far away from his home. 

Far away from you. Young K could tell his manager was starting to get irritated, but Young K was already massively annoyed and too far in his own world to really care. He missed the pine scent of his sheets, and he missed you.

It was not a good combination. When he got to his place he quietly thanked the manager,  getting his bag before trying to ignore every urge telling him to run into the building and fall into his soft bed with you in his arms. When he opened the door, your keys were there, so he knew you were in the building. That thought filled him with more relief than it should have. 

He did have to admit, hearing “I smile” this early in the day was odd as you usually saved the more mellow songs for later in the night. Young K told himself he had many euphoric moments in his life, but seeing you staring at a sheet of paper with so much determination and a bass guitar in your arms came pretty close to the top.

The absolute warmth that exploded in his chest was a feeling he would not forget in a long time. He could feel his lips slightly curl up in fondness as your hands shook while your eyes wavered unsurely between your hands on the strings and the video on your laptop sitting further on the edge of the bed. Your face scrunched up before you sighed and stared dejectedly at the instrument on your lap. 

“Why so sad love?" His voice made you instantly sit up, pushing the instrument gently off your lap. You crawled to the edge of the bed where Young K had already gotten closer where he met you tenderly running his hand through your hair, and he curved his hand around the back of your head bringing your forehead to his abdomen.

He brushed his thumb over where your hairline met the sensitive skin of the back of your neck immensely enjoying being back at your side. Your hands were clutching the back of his shirt, and your simple touch brought a warm feeling to his chest. You both leaned back as Young K’s chest started to rumble with laughter “You should have waited for me, it would have been easier if I could teach you”, he softly said, pushing your hair back from your face causing you to lightly laugh.

 “I wanted to surprise you, but I didn’t get that far anyways. Can’t become a prodigy in one day I guess”. Young K smiled again, promising to himself to help you as much as he could as he put his hand fondly on top of your head.

“You’re doing so good, just move your finger up a little, you’re plucking the c chord instead of the e chord during the chorus, don’t look at me like that i’m trying to help?! I wouldn’t put you on my level, but I think you’re doing really well. I’m hungry now, what do you want? No- What do you want? I am okay with anything just tell me-”

Wonpil

Wonpil was trying his hardest not to think about you. From the way you got excited when you got to see the moon in the cloudy sky to the way you smiled when you saw the neighbor’s cat while getting the mail. 

He was happy to be on a trip with her sister, he hadn’t had much time to be with her in recent, well forever really. While you had been invited, you hadn’t been able to attend due to work. Wonpil did his best to keep his mind off you and enjoy the trip, he just hadn’t spent this long without you in a while. 

Even so, he still had a fun time with his sister and her boyfriend creating many memories. He didn’t regret it, but he was extremely happy to come back to you. Opening the door to your apartment, he dropped his suitcase by the door, an excited smile tugging at his lips as he traveled through the apartment with his arms spread knowing you would embrace him as soon as you saw him. He felt so giddy, he didn’t even notice the broken keyboard sounds ringing throughout the living space.

His smile fell in a comical way, his face morphing into one of confusion instead. He recognized a broken rendition of “Mary had a little Lamb”, and tilted his head as he opened the door to your room seeing you with really big headphones on your head staring down at the keyboard with the most offended look on your face.

 How dare this keyboard not give you its secrets! Wonpil couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his chest, not mocking you, but he just thought you were so cute. He lightly touched your shoulder causing you to jump, and the slight movement of your head caused the headphones to slide off your head. It didn’t matter much. You instantly dove into his arms, pressing the side of your face against his chest.

He felt warmth flood his chest as his hand encased the back of your head while he pressed his lips to the top, closing his eyes in bliss enjoying having you in his arms again. He leaned back from the brace as his eyes flashed with amusement and yours with slight embarrassment. He lightly laughed, eyes crinkling. He cradled your face in his hands, a teasing lilt to his voice, “What were you trying to do, hmm?” He could feel your face grow hot under his finger tips.

 “I was just trying to surprise you. I felt bad for not being able to go with you”. He shook his head, hands playfully pinching your cheeks as you whined. “You shouldn’t act that way, I understood from the beginning. It must have been hard for you. Here, come, your lovely boyfriend will make this easier for you”.

“Y/n the keys will not bite prEsS dOWn, no, no keyboards do not have to be oiled, this is a musical instrument not a mechanical vehicle. You are so cute. What am I gonna do with you? No, you can not play the keyboard with your forehead, DO NOT put your foot on the keys. I don’t care if it’s for the vine. 

Dowoon

Dowoon was beating himself up. Looking back at what happened a few hours ago made his chest tight. He couldn’t help but wince at the words both of you had thrown at each other. You had been with each other for so long, and when his lovely mother asked him when he would propose, although with good intentions, it put pressure on him.

 He was still young. He had mentioned it to you in a joking manner, but there was a misunderstanding and you thought he was blowing it off as he didn’t see a future with you. 

Somehow feelings were hurt, and the fight escalated. And Dowoon decided he was a coward because it was when you had started stuttering through your words and avoiding eye contact, he knew. He knew he had pushed you across a line that might not be able to be crossed again. 

He panicked. He was really good at doing that wasn’t he? He left. He took a bus and went to the nearest hotel he could find. There he was sitting on the edge of the too perfectly made bed with his head in his hands.

Had he just ruined his precious relationship because he was scared of what the future could or could not hold? Why did he have to run away? Why couldn’t he just stay? Most importantly, how badly had he hurt you?

 With a sigh he stood up, and he got on the bus back to your apartment. Staring at the door, the fact you were just on the other side and hurting is what pushed him to open it with the key you had given him. Opening the door, he was met with silence and darkness. Have you already gone? He walked through the apartment, hope dwindling with every step. 

Then he heard a soft thump thump thump. His heart seemed to match with it, and as he walked to his studio which held his spare drum set, he thought of what he could say to make it better. Opening the door, he saw you softly hitting the drum with one stick, as if testing the waters and humming along to “When you Love Someone”. Dowoon couldn’t fight the sad smile that broke out on his face, and the absolute warmth that filled his chest. 

Why did he ever even doubt your future with him? There was no person more perfect for him than you. He stood next to you, softly taking your hand in his and guiding your hand to the right beat, although a bit broken. When your sad eyes looked up into his, forgiving in nature but still frustrated beyond belief, he knew he could still fix things. You were you, and Dowoon was Dowoon. You always somehow found your way back to each other.  

“No no, put your hands higher on the stick, no lower, now higher...a bit lower. No, Y/n drum sticks do not belong in my throat. What do you mean I have no room to talk, I thought we were over the fight. I would marry you in this life and the next! Why are you looking at me like that? I am not cute, I am handsome and overflowing with testosterone. Oooh are those gummies?

[prince-honeypaw]

Hi!! All your posts make me so happy! If it’s okay could I request some regressor Dabi headcanons? Absolutely anything is fine but if you want more specific maybe something to do with regressing for the first time and/or accepting that side of himself! Hope you’re having a good day/night!! 💕

♡ Thank you so much for the sweet message! I hope you don't mind the lateness of this post as I waffled around on it a lot before I got around to some ideas that I was happy with.

♡ WARNING: This starts off a little more angsty than I usually go. There will be mentions of sickness and injuries so please proceed with caution and care!

♡ Please enjoy!

♡ The earliest memory Dabi has of his regression was not long after the incident that left him riddled with third degree burns. He'd been patched up by a nameless and faceless entity then sent on his way where he met Giran. Dabi was a pretty sad sight, vomiting up bile in an alleyway after bumping one of his mended knees into a crate... and the guy couldn't leave him there to rot. He was just a kid. So, Dabi ended up crashing with the broker for a long while.

♡ His first few months were actually spent almost entirely in his headspace! Though, the harder parts of his headspace to be exact. The pain of his stitches and the lingering nausea that came with his painkillers left him a mess. He'd wake up shrieking and wailing at odd hours, phantom pains ricocheting through his nerves, digging his nails into his clothes until they ripped and let the cool air settle him back into reality. Then he'd hug his pillow as tight as possible and try to settle back to sleep.

♡ When everything settled into a new normal and Dabi could properly leave his headspace... He shoved it to the farthest corners of his mind, swearing to never- EVER- be seen in such a vulnerable state again. And he didn't.

♡ For awhile.

♡ After being in the league for awhile, Dabi thought that he could keep that promise to himself. He had a pretty good read on everyone; the only plausible threats to luring out The Beast had to be Kurogiri or Magne so far and that was fine, they were easy to avoid.

♡ He did not anticipate the sleeper hit that was Tomura Shigaraki being a regressor.

♡ It was a fleeting mention when Tomura seemed less coordinated, a conversation that lasted maybe less than a minute: "Is Shigaraki okay? He looks kinda lost," Spinner had asked. And Toga had responded in something of a chirp, "Didn't you know? Tomura regresses! Kurogiri said it happens sometimes and keeps him mellowed out, so don't be weird about it!" "Hey- Who said I would be weird about it?! I don't even-"

♡ Dabi had stopped listening after that and tried to forget he ever even heard it in the first place. (He couldn't forget.)

♡ The nail in the coffin came when a sudden drop left him... Desperate. He craved some sort of familiar company, no matter the cost. So he slinks out of the safety of his room, quiet as a mouse... And carefully tugs the fabric of Big Sis Mag's shirt, looking as pitiful as a kitten in the rain.

♡ Ken is no idiot. She picks up pretty quick that she's got a toddler on her hands and knows better than to make a big deal about it. He's just there to chill.

♡ Or. He was just there to chill until he watched Jin pick Himiko up to swat at Atsuhiro's top hat and decided that he would also like to go up, please.

♡ Looks up at Ken with the Biggest eyes and points, "Go up, sis?"

♡ And. Well... She isn't going to just say no like some kind of a jerk! So... She picks him up on her hip and accepts the grabby hands that eagerly examine the new surroundings.

♡ (Her glasses are inevitably taken and chewed on.)

♡ Dabi is rather fascinated, really. Despite his worries that he'd be seen as weak- a liability even, no one really cared that he was little. It was just something that happened, something that maybe he needed.

♡ Something that was apart of him.

♡ And that was okay to them.

♡ Maybe, just maybe, it also became okay to him too.

[kravkalackin]

For a long time, there was nothing. Just sitting, trapped in that umbrella, in that cave, listening to the echoes of waves off in the distance. 

And then there was a rumbling, something far enough off that she couldn’t hope to tell the source, or maybe it was a minor earthquake. She didn’t know, but she did know that one minute, she was sitting as she had been for some countless amount of time inside that black curtained prison. 

And the next, a rock had fallen, with a stroke of luck and a strange stitch of fate crushing both the remains of her corpse and the umbrella it was holding. 

And Lup was free. 

She laughed, as ecstatic, giddy, nervous thing as she let fire flair up around her just to feel it again. Feelings weren’t the same as a lich as a person, but she could still feel her power, could feel the warmth from her magic. She only let herself indulge in it a moment though, quickly focusing up on what she needed to do. 

She had no idea how long she’d been gone for. She needed to find her family. 

That turned out harder than expected. She couldn’t find the Starblaster. It wasn’t anywhere she searched, and she couldn’t track it with magic for some reason either. She would think (fear, dread) that somehow it had managed to leave without her, but that wasn’t possible. Even trapped in a pocket dimension she would have been taken as well, that wasn’t it. 

Well, she could ask the others what happened to the ship when she found them. She needed to find Taako, Barry and everyone else would be with him, and if not he would know where to find them. He would know what was going on. He would be looking for her. 

The search was hard, because apparently he didn’t have any of his shit oh him she could just cast locate object on. No, it was hard, until very suddenly it wasn’t. Until suddenly she was hearing about a cooking show and seeing a tacky flier for ‘Sizzle It Up With Taako’ 

Odd, but she knew better than anyone what her brother was like. How he would indulge in these phases, transforming himself for a while before tossing the whole thing away like an old outfit. The surfer year on the beach, his pseudo-philosophy stunt, and now apparently a whole cooking show. At least it made sense this time. 

She caught him between shows, alone thankfully. He was outside of the caravan, stretching with a look Lup knew meant he’d just woken up. She didn’t waste any time, divebombing right for him. 

“Taako!” she shouted, because fuck it, after however long in that umbrella she missed her brother. He jolted, passing through her arms as she tried to hug him, which was about what she expected. 

“Holy fuck!” he snapped, clearly startled. She expected him to quickly realize what was up, and to either start berating her for worrying them all or start freaking out at her already being a lich. 

 But that wasn’t what happened. 

“What the- what the fuck?” he asked, taking a step back from her, but Lup didn’t notice the fear on his face. She just dived forward again, this time managed to grab his arms as much as her spectral form could. 

“Shit it took a while to find you! Is this really the time to be going off on your own doing a weird food cart business thing? I mean, it looks good, nice marketing, but a little inconvenient. Where are the others? How long have I been gone?” she asked, and it was starting to become concerning how long he was just... staring at her. 

“I don’t... what?” he asked, and Lup didn’t have a proper face anymore, but she still felt like she was frowning at that. 

“How long Taako? I didn’t- however long it was I didn’t mean to disappear like that. I just, I had to do something, and it backfired. But I’m back now so just tell me, was it a month? Two months?” she asked, and there was just... nothing in his face. 

“A year? Five? Tell me!” she was shouting now, and she didn’t mean to but she didn’t... she didn’t think it was that long, and something was wrong and Taako was looking at her like he didn’t know who she was. 

“I don’t know! I don’t- what the fuck’s going on? Do you know me?” 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

“T-Taako? Taako it’s me. It’s Lup!” she pleaded, but her brain was already rapidly trying to make connection as just... no recognition shone in his eyes. 

“Look, I’m uh, I’m real sorry lady. Doesn’t ring a bell,” he said, and it-

It was real fucking hard to not let that break her. 

“Fisher. This has to be- it’s Fisher! Taako where’s the Starblaster?” she asked, but that confusion on his face only got more pronounced, his frown deepening. 

“Uh, yeah that was- that was all Greek to me, or static, specifically,” he said, and that pretty much confirmed it. Something- somehow, someone had used Fisher to erase her. To erase who knows how much. Her brother didn’t remember her. No one would be able to remember her. No one except- 

“Barry! Taako, where’s Barry?” 

“Who?” 

Again, there was a dangerous moment where she had to will herself together, thinking of her best day with Taako, her performance with Barry, all the little moments around them that kept her grounded. 

“Okay. Okay, I’ll just have to find him the hard way,” she said, finally forcing herself to let go of her brother. Who was still looking at her like she was a stranger. Like she was crazy. “I’ll have to fix this, too,” she added. 

“So uh, should I do something, or what?” Taako asked, and Lup told herself that was something. He was clearly freaked out, but he didn’t seem afraid of her. not of the fact that she was a lich or anything, at least. That was something. She thought over the question, glancing back at the food cart behind him. 

“I don’t know. How uh, how’re you doing? You safe? This cooking gig working out for you?” she asked. There was still that confusion there, but he nodded after a moment, giving a carefully careless shrug. 

“Yeah I mean, it’s pretty chill. I’m kinda a big deal, I guess,” he said, and if she could smile she would’ve. 

“Then just keep doing what you’re doing. I know this must not make a lot of sense, but I’ll be back and hopefully I’ll have Barry and we can figure this all out together, alright bro?” she said, and reluctantly Taako nodded. 

“Sure, I mean, you’re right on the money with this making no sense, but hey if I don’t gotta change anything about my life than sure, I’m down,” he said. That was good enough for Lup. It would have to be good enough. 

“Alright, catch you later then,” she said, turning away as Taako gave her a casual wave. 

New plan, she just had to find her husband. 

She might have to kill him when she found him, but she’d burn that bridge once she got to it.

[xtrasauce]

so i have to repost this because it literally did NOT show up in the tags?? 

anywho, enjoy this dabi smut that i self-indulgently wrote and would like for you to read so you can eat good too love you bbs warnings: lots of swearing and whewww sweet smut.

“I’m so tired of this shit” you sighed, wiping your eyes.

Another bullshit artist that came into your life. Another man that gassed you up with promises of being better than the last one...only to be the next repeat offender. You were exhausted. Being played like a fiddle only to be let down every time was zapping you of what little romantic energy you had left. It was hard enough being a fiercely independent woman - people feared you. You were intimidating in how well off you were alone; it made the men you dated feel inadequate, scared even. Despite your laid back attitude and never really making a big deal about taking care of yourself, you couldn’t deny you were a force to be reckoned with. But deep down behind your strength and independence…all you asked for was to be loved. To have someone who didn’t care about your successes and just saw you as a woman. Someone worth affection and not fear. Was that so much to ask? You were capable of vulnerability and delicacy like any other human…so why not you?

You dabbed at your eyes, your shoulders sinking heavily as you whimpered. Pity had its place here when you realized you lost count of how many failed relationships have walked out of your front door.

It was after you’d took a long, shaky breath that you heard the quiet thud of steel-toed boots at your living room window.

“You cutting onions in here?” came the rasp from the other room, “I’m hearin’ a lot of sniffling.”

Your eyes widened at the sound of your long time friend sauntering towards you. You used the sleeve of your oversized t-shirt to fiercely wipe at your face, hopefully leaving no traces of tears behind. “Nah, just allergies” you called from the kitchen. A stitched hand pulled around the corner, dark hair and ocean eyes to follow. It came as no surprise to you that Dabi showed up - this was a fairly common occurrence. You two had been long time friends: far before the league, back when he resorted to petty theft to get his meals. You’ll never forget how he tried to intimidate you with his blue flames into stealing your wallet. What he didn’t expect however, was for you to call him a “little shit” (after clearly hearing his stomach growl) and buy him a meal instead while you yammered on about how you busted your ass for a job they give two shits about you in. You weren’t afraid of him. All the fire he possessed, the scorched skin and scars he bore, the way the staples imbedded in his flesh stretched grossly as he flexed and spoke; none of it fazed you. You were nothing short of fascinating. At first you told him to fuck right off when you noticed how he’d follow you, and he did…from a distance. It wasn’t until some creep tried to rob you at gun point when you got home, accompanied by the instant incineration at Dabi’s hand, that you figured maybe he wasn’t half bad. Ever since then, you made fast friends with this odd flame wielding man. So when he popped into your place without mention, it didn’t bother you.

With a nervous spin, you reached into your fridge and grabbed two drinks - a ritual you often practiced when Dabi came over. He took the neck of the bottle and flicked the top off with ease. “Thanks, doll. You always got a stash ready for me.” he smirked, chugging back a long swig. You rolled your eyes as you hopped up on the countertop, “I have to keep stock otherwise you’re gonna drink me out of my fucking home.” He laughed low at that, leaning back on the faux marble with his elbows. That playful smirk was always plastered on his face when he was around you.

“You love having me around, don’t fucking lie.” You mirrored his smirk, he wasn’t far from the truth. Having Dabi around was a pleasantry. Your friendship with him was one of honesty - you didn’t sugarcoat shit with him and neither did he with you. You supposed that’s why he was so willing to open up to you; something you were sure wasn’t kosher for the kind of man Dabi was. But you understood him nonetheless - a tragic past, littered with so many scars both physical and emotional. The idea of you having any sort of ties to a criminal made you realize you probably weren’t the most wholesome person yourself…but you pushed that thought to the back of your mind as often as you could. For now, he was the closest person you had in your circle.

“Yeah, yeah, hothead,” retorted you, hand waving to brush him off, “Maybe if you weren’t a pain in my ass half the time, I’d like you a little more.” “Oh yeah?” Dabi scoffed, eyebrow raised in amusement. “Maybe I can take the place of your current little boy toy - god knows he doesn’t fuck you enough considering the mouth you’ve got on you.”

Silence fell over you. In any other normal circumstance you’d laugh - punch his shoulder and tell him to shut the fuck up. But now…his words struck you deep without him meaning them to. He picked up the chill of your withdrawal almost instantly and it caused him to lean toward you, scrutinizing the entirety of your face. Eyes narrowed, he spoke a little softer now, “Allergies my ass…you’ve been crying.” It nearly struck a nerve in you how quickly he was able to tell; it shouldn’t surprise you, but it does every time he catches on to things when you try to hide them. Turning to you now, Dabi stuffs his hands in his pockets with his gaze trained on you,

“Out with it.”

Those deep turquoise hues locked you in place, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him directly. With your head turned, you did your best to even your tone out, “It’s nothing Dabi, don’t worry about it.”

“Bullshit,” spat the villain, “Considering how quickly you got quiet over the mere mention of your boyfriend, I know something’s fucking up so spit it out.” You grit your teeth, holding your tongue as the blood in your veins felt of searing fire. His teeth shown now in a sour grin as leaned forward toward you, “Oh suddenly she’s speechless now, huh? That little boyfriend of yours break your heart? I know that pathetic look when I fucking see it.” That got your attention. Your face was twisted with malice, hot tears spilling down your face now with a mix of sadness and frustration. Always the one to push your buttons was he…but never this far. Sure you’d lamented to him after your many break ups, but not like this. Dabi had never seen you cry like this. You yanked the fire user by the collar of his white tee, hurt seething in your words,

“What the fuck would you know? You don’t give a fuck about anything or anyone! I’m surprised you haven’t destroyed my shit the way you destroy everything else in your life!” You were screaming at him now, eyes wild, “You don’t have to deal with every man who walks into your life being AFRAID of commitment with you. God for fucking bid I be an adult who can take care of herself, apparently that’s too scary,” the last few words said with pained sarcasm. He was shoved away as your palm scraped across your face to swipe at your tears,

“What the fuck would you know about relationships or love or any of this shit, Touya?” His name, his real name, slipped from your mouth like poison. Your lips were curled back in a snarl as you burned with embarrassment. It took a full minute before your breathing began to slow from its ragged pattern. Your own words resonated back at you and immediately you felt horrendous guilt. Hands carefully reached out for a gentle touch in apology, “Shit…Dabi, I’m-”

“What would I know, huh,” came a deadpan rasp. As fast as you could blink, he was before you, heated hands prying your knees apart so he could slide between them. He was too close too quickly. Dabi’s eyes were dark and unreadable, piercing into your own, “I know I’m tired of seeing you like this…aren’t you tired of feelin’ like you do?” What a question to ask after being downright insulted. He continued, “I’m sick of watching you throw yourself to these fucking idiots who don’t deserve you - just to watch you crumble and cry and sulk. It’s not like you and it makes my blood fucking boil.” Your eyes began to glaze over with tears once more as he wrapped a hand around your wrist, and suddenly you were pulled toward him, inches from his face. He bore holes through your irises with the intensity of his glare,

“You wanna yell at me for bringing the truth to light? Fucking fine…but at least I’m fucking honest with you, princess.”

He was right. No matter how blunt or scathing his words may have felt when he said them, he never lied to you. He...was probably the only man you knew who was completely honest with you. You suddenly became very aware of the grip his hands had on your legs, how close his body was to yours now. His scent, ash and whiskey, a normal comfort for you now made an unfamiliar shiver crawl up the length of your spine. The hand that wasn’t encased in his grip moved without thought, cupping one of his cheeks. Softly you stroked the flesh there, an apology swimming deep in your eyes,

“Dab- no...Touya, I...I’m sorry.”

The hand that held your wrist released it almost immediately, snapping up to your face. An arm encased your waist as you were pulled against his hard frame. Without a word, he slammed his lips into yours. His grip on your hip made you squeak in surprise, allowing Dabi to slip his tongue into your mouth. As he wrestled down your tongue, you felt yourself overwhelmed with several emotions, shock and confusion being the most prominent. Your hands gripped his shirt once more, shaky fingers unsure of what to make of all this. However...that didn’t stop you from kissing back. Everything in your mind told you this should be weird - you shouldn’t like kissing this asshole and all the grief he gives you every damn day he breathes, yet that’s exactly why it feels so incredibly right. The hand on your face trailed down to the back of your neck, and a hard grip on your hair found you tilting your head back. It was inevitable that a breathy mewl would escape you when Dabi pressed hot kisses into the skin of your neck, sinking his teeth in where he wanted most and licking the indents in the aftermath. When you felt the pressure of his lips and teeth suctioned at your pulse, it dawned on you how very real this was becoming. A million thoughts blazed through your mind - yet it was the self-deprecating thoughts that clung to you the most.

He was looking to get his dick wet and you were vulnerable.

Or worse, he pitied you.

Yes...yes, that one hurt the most. The idea of Dabi only wanting to touch you because he felt bad for being so harsh. You felt your lip tremble at the intrusive whispers that plagued you, and it caused your grip on him to loosen. With a shake in your voice,

“Dabi, don’t do this…”

He stopped. Mouth leaving your neck with a wet pop, he ceased all actions and just kept his hold on you. The waver in your tone never left, “I...I-I can’t be a pity fuck for you. Don’t do that to me, please...I c-can’t take that right now…”

The silence in the room was deafening even through your stifled whimpers. His grip on you faltered slowly, and it made your heart sink. You felt like you’d hit the nail on the head with that notion. It was difficult trying to swallow the seeds of rejection, but you’d have no choice.

“You think...this is a pity fuck?” came his voice, full of gravel and a tinge of something you couldn’t place. Suddenly the arm on your waist doubled down in its hold, nearly crushing you against him. His head never left the crook of your neck however and his deep exhale on your skin made your whole body shiver. Dabi trailed his tongue from your pulse to just under your jaw, pressing a small groan into your neck when you arched your chest against his. The growl he let out made you bite your lip, it was strained - as if to insinuate he was holding something back.

“Babe…” he muttered scratchily, “If I wanted to pity fuck someone, I’d pick some sad bitch at the club…” and he peppered kisses over your jaw this time, “You, dollface, are worth much more than that…” his path continued upward before finally stopping at your lips for one final chaste kiss, “In fact, you…you’re getting what you’ve long deserved.” The big question of what that was popped into your head, yet Dabi left no time for you to ask it. Bruising kisses on your mouth were what you got instead, his nimble fingers pawing at your thighs and sliding up your sides. The whine that tried to escape you? Dabi drank it all in, taking your needy cries down to his lungs like it was the air he needed to live. Your hands flew everywhere on him: gripping his shirt, digging into his arms, cupping his face and even scratching at the back of his head when he bit down your neck again. It was delicious and almost too much, but god smite you if you didn’t want every second of it. Your baggy t-shirt was ripped from your body in simple seconds before Dabi latched onto your collarbone. Scarred hands palmed your breasts without hesitation, and the cool, steel staples only served to be enticing on your hot flesh - the threat of them potentially snagging your skin making you ever wetter.

“Fuuuuck, Dabiiii” moaned you, thighs fully spread now as his tongue lapped over a pert nipple. Your fingers were back in his hair now, tugging hard at the scruffy black locks. His low growl sent heat straight between your legs, “That’s right princess, make those sounds for me…” and he quickly switched to your opposite breast, gently rolling the sensitive bud between his teeth. You shoved at his coat, and practically ripped his shirt in two just to get him out of him; you didn’t miss the dark chuckle let out, whispering something about impatience and being needy before you shut him up with a kiss. You palmed the front of his pants, letting out a short gasp into his mouth at what you felt in your hand. The smirk was not missed in the slightest, “Big, isn’t it?”

Normally you’d roll your eyes at his cockiness, but all you could muster at this moment was a deep bite to your bottom lip. Trying to be nimble, your fingers ran for the buckle of his pants - and you did your best to scoot off the counter top. Dabi stopped you however, knowing right away what you were about to do, “Uh uh…there will be time for that another day” the rough tug of thumbs in the waistband of your panties caught your attention; it was now that Dabi made a point to lock eyes with you, predatory heat in those swirling tides, “If I don’t fuck you right fuckin’ now, I’m gonna fuckin’ combust.” You barely made it out of your panties before he was wrapping your legs around his waist and lifting you up. Your back connected with the closest wall, a one hungry flame villain pinning you against it with your thighs held firmly in his hands. He reached between your conjoined bodies for only a few seconds, the shudder in his breath alluding to you that he’s managed to pull his cock free from his pants. The confirmation: how heavy it sat pressed flat against your slit. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and your breaths came in sputters - it was literally and figuratively, a lot for you to take in.

A pause. Hesitation almost.

With Dabi slated firm between your thighs, you expected him to simply take the plunge...and yet he stilled. He planted his hand strongly against the small of your back, using his weight and strength to keep you there - just above the last act before the bridge that separated you two from being “just friends” would fall to pieces. A hand came to your face, angling your head to the side with an uncharacteristic gentleness. Warm breath trickling over your skin, you felt the hushed command, “...Say you want this.” It was just above a whisper, and your mind being in the haze it was almost didn’t hear it...almost. You stuttered out, “Wh-What…?” He repeated, voice more firm as he said your name, “Say you want this...tell me you want me to fuck you. I won’t ask again.”

Your heart raced a mile a minute. But you already knew the answer.

“Yes, God, Dabi, yesss” you whined out, your thighs squeezing him closer. And that was all it took. Spread open wide for him, Dabi sunk deep within you, a hard groan rolling into your collarbone. Your hands wrapped around his head, holding onto him for dear life. His hips connected with yours slowly at first - allowing you to adjust as he stretched and filled you down to his balls. But the cry you let out when he finally slammed his hips up into you was the sound he loved the most. Thrust for thrust you took him, back scraping against the kitchen wall, rattling all odds and ends that hung nearby.

“Fuck, you feel so ungh, so fucking good.” Dabi says sharply, inhaling between grit teeth as he lends you a particularly hard thrust. Your pussy clenches at the desperation in his voice; masculine moans a symphony that sang down your body. He fucks up into you like you’ve never felt before, primal power oozing out of that lean body of his. All of your senses are ensnared by him and all you can think of in that moment is DabiDabiDabi. Unbeknownst to you, you’re spilling that same mantra from your lips like your life depended on it.

“Yeah, princess? Feel that good? Aghh fuck” he winces, the pain of your nails digging into his scalp mixing with the way your pussy grips him when you register his voice in your ear. He takes the shell of your earlobe between his teeth, moving both his hands now to come up under your ass. As Dabi forcefully ground your hips against his while he continued to pound into you, you couldn’t help but moan - heated pleasure was surging through your whole body. Your muscles tightened, the start of pressure building low in your belly.

“They could never satisfy you like this” he growled into your ear, “No man was ever good enough - no one will ever nghhfuck you like this,” he chuckled immediately after, tone low and dangerous in register, “You’re mine now, understand me?”

With an exasperated gasp you came undone. Electricity zipping through you from head to toe, tears finally spilling, soaking his cock completely as you came. “Fuck yess doll, that’s it, give me all of you,” he hissed, picking up the pace of his thrusts now. You loosened your vice grip on his hair - and that’s when you saw it. Dabi’s lids low as he still took you: eyebrows knitted in sheer pleasure, harsh pants accompanied by sharp grunts. But his eyes...his eyes held an adoration you’d never seen from him before. Soft pools of turquoise that swam in a haze of affection, of pure warmth and intimacy. He watched your flushed face twist in pleasure from your orgasm (simultaneously as he chased his own),

Dabi looked at you like he’d never seen anything more stunning.

“...S-Say my name, princess.” he stuttered out, grunts indicating he was close now.

“Dab-” “No. My real name.”

Your loins fluttered at the notion and you drew him in close. With a wanton moan, you let his ear have every letter, “Unghh, Touyaaa”

His hands gripped the fat of your ass as he damn near drilled an imprint of you into the wall.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckloveyouloveyoufuuuuckcummiiiing” And the sound of a choked gasp cut the air. Thick heat spilled inside of you, a feeling you moaned after as he filled you. You nearly felt yourself collapse onto him, but with the last of his strength, he pulled you both to the couch as you sat on top of him.

His words took a moment to settle with you. Did he…?

You looked up at him, you had to be sure. His head was thrown back, chest rising and falling as he fought to catch his breath.

“...You love me...don’t you”

It was said more as a statement than anything else, but the question was weaved into your words. His head came up for a moment, meeting your eyes quickly before closing his. He was vulnerable here, you knew this. You should’ve known - the way he stuck by your side and met you attitude for attitude. Your shoulder to lean on, your match made in hell. It couldn’t be helped…

“I didn’t think you were capable of love” you laughed softly, your fingers tracing over the scars on his cheeks. He snickered at that, pushing your head down for a quick, deep kiss.

“Only you, doll. It’s only ever been you.”

And boy did you feel finally seen.