#hell i don’t even need to interact with them anymore than necessary

[runwayblues]

i will gladly attend every single interview they do and if there’s even a slightest inclination that danny isn’t a brother i will spray the interviewer with a super soaker full of piss

[compassionatereminders]

Vent:

It turns out my ex bf was telling people (read: our mutual friends) that I was being creepy and stalker-ish by:

Signing up for a class he was in (I needed to take the class…)

Accidentally calling him one (1) pet name

And having an UNRELATED mental breakdown.

I just. I think the biggest reason is I was trying so so so hard to be kind to him (because I know he went through a Lot) even though we broke up recently and didn’t date for very long (because he barely texted me back..) and I just. I wish I could be angry in the I don’t even care anymore way but I’m just angry in the what the hell dude. If you had brought this up to me in any fucking way other than the one you did (asked me to never interact with him unless strictly necessary) I could have maybe been like ???? Dude that was 5% maybe he still likes me 25% autism and 70% absolute terror that he’d blow up at me for no reason like he did in the past. And apparently he told people that I was still hung up on him while I was dating my (much kinder!!!) gf. I’m just. I know I shouldn’t let this bother me so much but like dude. What The Fuck.

I just wanted to be kind and this is where it got me. As much as I’m happy where I am now with my beautiful friends and my beautiful “wife” it’s fucking me up that I was misconstrued that badly and so many people treated me worse for it. Like none of them checked up on me when I had to go to the hospital because I was trying to be nice to this guy and nice to everyone despite being so scared.

Like this should be a lesson learned in overextending or smth but I’m just upset.

I very much understand your distress at being villianized and having your actions misconstrued in this manner, but even so, telling you never to contact him again outside emergencies IS in fact a boundary that he is allowed to establish. Even if he is doing it in an unnecessarily mean way.

[yuriko-mukami]

Consequences

Happens after this interaction with Tanako Roo (@lucidesunderstander)

Thank you for your help, inspiration, and beta reading @ruki-mukami-dl

TW: Toxic relationship behavior

Yuriko swallowed as Roo left the library, commenting on how Ruki didn’t take her feelings into consideration. Why…? Didn’t he realize that…?

“What a filthy face. Where did you say you picked up this dirty stray dog?” Ruki’s voice was as icy as his eyes when his gaze turned to his shivering girlfriend. There was a tight knot in Yuriko’s stomach as she shifted in place, not having enough courage to either pull back or lean closer. She hated it when Ruki looked at her like that… like all adornment had vanished out of thin air.

“I… I… umh… from our math class…” Yuriko nibbled her bottom lip. Ruki was furious, right? But Roo hadn’t touched her in a similar manner as the Sakamaki boy, so… this time… this time… she could avoid the icy shower… Hopefully.

“You should have simply told the teacher that you will do the assignment alone. You are more than capable to handle simple math problems on your own, are you not?”

“Well… yes… but it was meant as a pair work and Tanako-san looked so lone—”

"...I’m not interested in hearing such. After all, it does not change the fact that you came into contact with that dirty dog." Ruki grabbed Yuriko’s arm, squeezing it a bit harder than necessary as his gaze bored into hers. 

“But Ruki… Tanako-san hasn’t done anything wrong!” It was quite the opposite. Roo wasn’t threatening or trying anything suspicious. He seemed a bit shy and perhaps awkward but that actually gave a safe feeling. Yuriko squirmed in Ruki’s grasp, trying to explain how nothing had happened. They had sat in the library and talked a bit… and shared lunch.

Ruki’s head turned again. It was easy to read the distaste in the manner his brows closed in together and his nape stiffened as he stared at the lunch box he had prepared for Yuriko this evening.

“You shared lunch I made with him.” It was not even a question but a notion cold enough to freeze the deepest levels of hell. Fingers dug into Yuriko’s arm and she was sure there would be bruises even though she wore both her cardigan and her dress shirt.

“Erhm… well… yes… It looked like he didn’t have anything proper and I had plenty…”

A death stare.

“And Ruki… You know… I need friends too. Eli-chan is still missing and I don’t know what to do. It pains my heart that —”

"I see. You are trying to shift the blame, huh? That Elizabeth Virnien went missing on her own and has nothing to do with this case.” Ruki started to pack Yuriko’s things into her school bag. He hit the lunch box’s lid shut and tugged that, too, among other things. “Are you simply not seeing how those disgusting filths ogle on you or are you playing innocent, Livestock? Claiming that everything happens without your knowledge, it seems?"

“I… no… but Tanako-san… He isn’t like the other guys.”

Ruki stopped. 

For a moment, nothing moved in the library. 

Yuriko started to notice her own shallow breathing and heartbeat that drummed in her ears. Suddenly, her palms felt sticky, and her feet heavy. She was sinking, rapidly, and no one could save her anymore since she had just made…

…a huge mistake.

“We… we should go to the last class…” Nothing but mumbles; Yuriko could hear how her voice quivered. But this was her last straw. If Ruki just went there with her, maybe he would calm down while they would have to study…

"Due to your foolish actions, that will not happen." Ruki closed the distance between them and clutched Yuriko’s arm again so swiftly that a tearing sound screeched in Yuriko’s ears. She didn’t have time to peek down to check how badly her sleeve had ripped as Ruki kept talking. "We are changing our plans. We will go home. Now."

Without a further ado, Ruki teleported them away from the school library. Yuriko’s world turned upside down for a moment as if she ceased to exist and was born again. She was tiny and huge at the same time and her stomach was whirling when the library disappeared around them. A second later she was staggering in Ruki’s bedroom as he let go of her arm and slammed their bags on the floor.

"You really are...a handful, Livestock..."

As Yuriko watched, Ruki hurried to the closet, taking out something from the upper shelf where she hadn’t ever peeked — not that she could even reach there on her own. Now, Ruki pulled out a black box, put it on the table, and opened it while glancing at Yuriko with eyes that were glimmering. Not in a friendly manner, nothing like that, but almost violently.

Would another shower follow? But surely Ruki didn’t need to purge Yuriko now since Roo hadn’t really touched her…

"I am busy for the tiniest moment and immediately you start seducing those unworthy, simple-minded humans in the school.” Rumbling through the box, Ruki gathered something that looked like…

…a collar. One that could be used for a dog.

Yuriko blinked as a leash followed.

"I cannot keep you running free since you are asking to be corrupted and tainted by that filthy stray dog." Ruki turned around, holding the items. “Perhaps I should take you a stroll like one since you are taking a liking to them.”

“Ruki… what…? No!”

But Ruki was on Yuriko faster than she could react. Cold and merciless fingers snatched her by her throat, wrapping the collar around her neck. The clenching, suffocating feeling turned her head light. Lifting her hands, she tried to tuck the choker but it was no use.

“Too… it’s too… tight…” Yuriko coughed, pushing her fingers under the leather that wrung her throat, making her breath turn even shallower and the room around them dim as if the black mist was slowly creeping in. With shaking legs, Yuriko tried to back down but in vain.

“Do not dare to remove it without your master’s permission, Livestock.” Ruki attached the leash to the collar, gazing down at Yuriko without showing a single sign of any emotion. “If you like that mongrel that much, why not become one? Perhaps that will remind you of your place and who you should obey.”

“But Ruki —”

[snippychicke]

Moonstone--Jealousy

So, a long, long, long time ago, @rmoonstoner (and maybe someone else) admitted that possession sex would be amazing. And I fully, 100% agreed. Except I couldn't find a way that satisfied my need to have everything (vaguely) in character and fit into plot.

And then we finally got a hint of Jake in the season finale. And I have been working on this since, here and there. I'm not the best at smut, and I needed to develop Jake's character before I threw him into the fray like this. Because yes, this fits into the Moonstone timeline, just a bit past our current point.

So, if you haven't guessed already.*** THIS IS EXPLICIT CONTENT.*** Minors shouldn't be reading this series anyways, but definitely not this piece. Warnings include: Some manipulation (but not in the way you think) Plenty of oral, followed by unprotected piv. I'm putting questionable consent because of the mess of Marc/Steven/Jake's body, some implied voyeurism? and definitely some rough sex, overstim. I'm probably missing some, so let me know.

Anyways, here you go, my fellow Khonshu lovers. Enjoy.

Jake had to admit, you were one hell of a woman. Sure, he was fond of Layla. She was a beautiful woman, he maybe even loved her in a way.

But he never talked, never interacted with her. But you? Hell, just fighting side-by side against Harrow and his goons had been enough for him to fall in love. You got it. That drive to do whatever was necessary. You didn’t hold back in a true fight. You had a ruthless streak in you as bright as the full moon. No wonder Khonshu loved you.

Except, that was a problem too. Khonshu loved you, and was fiercely protective of you. There was no way he’d let Jake do anymore than the occasional leer or brush that could be excused as something else. 

But the bird was also secretly worried you still would leave him. And that gave him an edge.

“Ya know, she laughed the other day,” Jake reported to Khonshu from the safety of Marc’s fractured mindscape, recalling fondly of dinner the other night, watching silently as you, Layla, Steven and Marc ate and drank. He was never really ‘present’ during those times, but always just a whisper away. Sneaking glances in the many mirrors that now lined the home, listening to the domestics he’d never be a part of. Never admit that he wanted.

You knew he was there, though. He caught brief expressions he was sure were for him. A bitten back smile when his alters complained of missing time despite their teamwork. Or when you were just a little extra when you tried to reassure them, your acting was not nearly as good as his. Marc and Steven fell for it, but he knew that brief smile you hid was for him. Likely recalling how he often came to pick you up and cart you off to whatever work Khonshu had. You would try and reassure them it was nothing, when it in reality it was the moments you and him worked in tandem, Khonshu watching and guiding you both.

At first Khonshu seemed pleased at Jake’s information, a feeling of contentment in knowing something had delighted you. Oh, Jake was going to enjoy turning that on its head. “Said you wouldn’t know what to do with a mouth if you had one.”

The god looked down at him, bafflement obvious despite the lack of expression. Then annoyance, quickly burning into indignation. “What?”

Jake only shrugged, playing with the toothpick in his mouth. “I don’t know either. Layla was reminiscing about her first kiss with those other two. I mean, I never thought your lady friend would say something like that to them.” 

“I would think she would know by now not to doubt me.”

“Eh, you know them girls. Gossiping about kissing, swapping stories about lovers. She’s probably just a bit bitter that she’s never been ate out before.” 

----

Jake was at your door. Except it wasn’t his intentionally relaxed posture with a slight smirk when you opened the door. Instead, he stood tall, jaw set, and his eyes hard; though that was nothing new, his dark eyes always simmered with rage just beyond the peripheral. Even when he was happy, there was anger. IT was how you could tell him apart from the others.

“Hello, dearest moonstone,” he crooned, voice deeper and missing its usual accent, replaced but a familiar and utterly unique one.

Ah. 

Khonshu. 

Now you could see the faint flicker of light in his dark eyes. “Well hello,” you greeted after the surprise passed, a smile stretching across your face. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you darkening my doorstep like this.”

His eyes narrowed, and you weren’t sure if Khonshu was angry, or Jake. “You doubt my ability to please you despite everything?” He snarled, stalking closer. You allowed him to back you inside your apartment, the door rattling as he slammed it shut. Your mind was whirring, trying to figure out what you said or done to upset his mood this time. He did not truly scare you, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you, but there was still that subconscious flicker of fear at his imposing anger. “That I wouldn’t know how to use a mouth if I had one?”

Ah. You had forgotten about that little joke. And of course Jake had to listen in on that particular drunk conversation and report it to Khonshu. 

But hey, if the god wanted to give it a shot…"I know you love proving me wrong."

Jake’s lips were on you in a second, rough and firm. You hissed in pleasure as Khonshu pinned you to the wall, your hands quickly restrained by his. There was no hesitancy, no unsureness. The old bird knew exactly what he was doing as he bit and sucked your lips between dominating kisses, making your lips even more sensitive. 

And then he moved to your neck, continuing to suck and bite, and you knew you were going to be bruised and well marked by morning. Yet, that only made you groan more, shifting your hips in anticipation. 

His tongue played with the shell of your ear, Jake’s hot breath sending goosebumps down your spine. “I hope you have nothing planned, because I’m not letting you leave your bed until tomorrow morning.” 

Khonshu suddenly picked you up, your legs wrapping around Jake’s hips as he carried you to your bedroom. You took the time to pepper his neck with kisses, careful not to leave a mark, unlike him. You didn’t want to imagine the fallout of Layla finding hickeys on Marc/Steven that didn’t come from her.

He tossed you onto your bed, barely giving you time to adjust before he was on you once more. His tongue invaded your mouth, fighting yours for dominance as he quickly pulled at your clothes, uncaring of the fabric tearing in his rush.

You pushed off Jake’s cap, shoving his leather jacket from his shoulders and then finally helping Khonshu rid the white shirt beneath. It wasn’t his body, but there was no denying you didn’t feel a rush of arousal from feeling hardened muscle beneath your hands, or the soft, sparse hair along his chest, growing thicker close to where his pants sat low on his hips.

“Not now, my little moonstone,” he purred as he pulled your hands away from Jake’s belt (and you were completely unaware of the curses Jake was spitting in their mind.) “I have to teach you a lesson first.” 

For being a god that didn’t have lips or a tongue (that you knew about) Khonshu was surprisingly talented. While he was rough against your neck, biting you hard enough you were sure he was about to draw blood; his touch became gentle as he reached your breasts. You gasped as he took your nipple in his borrowed mouth, sucking gently as his tongue swirled over the stiffening peak. You tangled your fingers in their hair, your breath coming in small gasps as his hand cupped your other breast, giving it attention as well, though rougher as he pinched and rolled your nipple between well-calloused fingers. 

“God, fuck, Khonshu,” you moaned, hips rolling in an attempt to find some kind of friction to the growing need between your legs. But his own were too far for you to rut against, and his other hand was pressed against your hip, keeping you pinned down into the mattress. “Please.”

He gave one last hard suck to your nipple before letting go, Jake’s dark eyes glancing up at you, but you swore the moon was somehow reflected in them. “So needy already? I’ve barely done anything.” 

“Quit being so smug,” you whined. “I need you.” 

He chuckled, the hand holding you down moving to slip beneath your underwear, fingers rubbing against your moistened core. You cried as you arched against him, fingers raking over his muscled shoulders. “Once I’m done with you, you’ll realize I have every right to be smug.”

He pulled your underwear down as he sat back on his heels, adjusting himself between your legs. You felt yourself grow warm seeing him like that. It may have been Jake’s face, but something in you recognized that heady expression as Khonshu. Maybe it was the moonlight reflected in his eyes, the almost-arrogant, righteous expression on his face. 

Or maybe your soul just recognized him by now, even if he was possessing another’s body. 

He gripped your thighs, pulling them over his shoulders and making you squeak out of surprise, which only made his smirk widen. His gaze shifted to your groin, and a shiver ran through you as he licked his lips. 

Heavens, if you weren’t already ruined before, that expression would have been warning enough. You instinctively gripped the pillow beneath your head moments before his mouth met your flesh. 

Jake’s tongue was hot and firm as he used it to split your lower lips, brushing against the tender tissue they hid. You managed to take a deep breath to hold back a cry, but that was all the restraint you could manage before his tongue plunged into you, curling and stroking between harsh sucks with far too much experience for this to be his first time. 

Obscene sounds filled the room as he continued his attack, both the sloppy noise as he ate you out as well as your own begs and whines. It was only a short matter of minutes before you felt your first orgasm approaching; your muscles tightening in your abdomen almost painfully before ecstasy snapped through your body, your scream echoing into the room.

But Khonshu didn’t stop. He merely adjusted his position, his fingers replacing his tongue inside you while he teased your clit with his tongue. Your legs spasmed as you cried out again, bucking against his face until his grip became too strong for you to barely wiggle against him. 

A second, and then third orgasm washed over you. Tears pricked your eyes from the over-stimulation and you were nearly ready to beg him to stop when he allowed your hips to fall back to the mattress as he sat up, wiping his face and then sucking his fingers clean. 

“I don’t want to hear another word about my lack of skill again,” he warned as he pulled himself up from your legs, the street light bathing Jake’s muscular form in golden light as he towered over you. “Or I’ll be forced to deal more harshly with your impudence.”

Your body was limp, worn out from the multiple orgasms he wrung from you. Unfortunately, with your mind barely more the mush, you had no sense of self preservation as you shot out: “Going to have to run that… by Layla,” you panted, your eyes closed as you struggled with the overwhelming sensations. “Make sure the boys… aren’t sharing their abilities with you.“ 

Khonshu gripped your face, guiding you to look up at him; pitch black eyes with the small speck of silver moonlight. You couldn’t tell if he was aroused, angry, or both as he glared down at you. “Give up, my little moonstone. I doubt your body can handle much more.” 

Despite everything, you grinned back at him, looking as impish as ever. “Now, have you ever known me to give up so easily?” you let go of the headboard and gripped Jake’s black, curly locks and pulled him into a rough kiss.

He matched the passion as he cradled your head tenderly despite the small bites and growls. The kisses he left along your neck and cheek were reverent, the roll of his hips against yours needy, begging for your acceptance. “You think handle one more, dearest?” 

Your answer was just your hands finding the buckle of Jake’s belt once more, fumbling with it in desperation. He broke away from you, making quick work of both belt and pants, letting Jake’s cock free. It was hard and engorged already, yet Khonshu seemed to enjoy the expression on your face as he took it in hand, stroking it slowly. 

“Khonshu," you whined, parting your legs, opening yourself to him in a silent beg. You wanted him inside you, now. Former orgasms be damned. 

And heavens, seeing you so wet and wanting was about to drive the god insane. He quickly settled his avatar’s body between your parted thighs, groaning as your thick thighs quickly wrapped around Jake’s narrow hips. You were so wet and wanting that he slipped inside you with the slightest thrust. Khonshu groaned against your neck as he hilted completely inside you, delighting and indulging in the sensations as your cunt quivered around him. Soft and tight and deliciously wet against Jake’s hard, throbbing member.

Khonshu delighted even more in the noises that escaped your lips when he started to move. He took his time thrusting into your core, trying to memorize the feel of you before he lost himself to pleasure as well. He praised you as his lips moved against your neck, and then swallowed your pleas as Jake’s lips met yours.

When he could feel his own orgasm approaching, he shifted and gripped your thighs once more, the shift in position making you cry out. Your eyes met his, blown wide with pleasure before he changed his pace; his thrusts becoming sharp, quick, and verging on vicious as his hips slammed against yours again and again. All to hear your quiet sounds become screams of pleasure. Your nails dug and scratched down whatever grip you could find, and he delighted in the points of pain as he came, filling you full.

He was gasping for breath as he fell against you, shifting so he laid beside you. The feeling of exhaustion next to bliss was an odd, new, yet rather pleasant experience for the god. 

You groaned as you shifted to curl next to him, bumping the top of your head against his chin. “Marc and Steven are going to be pissed about those scratches.”

“I can heal them.” But not right now. He liked the idea of his beloved marking his body, even if it wasn’t technically his. Just as he enjoyed the image of his work scattered across your own, proof about how wrong your little quip was. 

He looked down, barely able to see you as you rest against him. His avatar’s body was smaller than his own, and it didn’t quite feel right as he tried to wrap his arm around your shoulders but not reaching quite as far as normal. You didn’t fit quite right against him, leaving him feel slightly disgruntled. 

“No offense to Marc, Steven, or Jake,” you muttered, either thinking the same thing or feeling him through the bond. “They are definitely a very handsome man. But I like your body better, though I’m not even sure why.” 

“Because I am a god and they’re merely a mortal?” He offered, a hint of jesting in his tone that makes you snort and slap him slightly on the chest. 

“Sure, whatever you say. Or maybe it’s just because I have a monster fetish” 

“I am a god, not a monster.” 

“Depends really on who you ask,” you quipped, before silencing his argument with a kiss. He grumbled against your lips, but cupped your cheek to prevent your from pulling too far away.

Pleasantly exhausted himself, Jake made a mental note to find more excuses in the future that would stir Khonshu’s jealousy.

[twilight-orchid]

How the Undatebales React After A Fight

Thank you to my friendo @wholelottatiffy ​ who helped me brainstorm this one. I’m only on chapter 19 at the moment, so I haven’t interacted with anyone but Diavolo much. And thank you to everyone who wanted a follow up to my previous post, I did not expect that. Y’all are super sweet!

tw: Fighting (a bit more in depth than my first post), description of panic attack, minor name calling, insecurity, depression, angst with resolution.

Diavolo:

Diavolo doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

To start, we need to talk about how the argument unfolds.

He’s not used to arguing. 

He’s Lord Diavolo, Prince of The Devildom, head of the RAD student council. No one defys him on anything.

So you raising your voice at him, trying to get him to see your way,

It was very overwhelming.

He tried to reason calmly with you at first, but he felt cornered. 

When fight or flight kicked in, his body chose fight.

His wings burst open in all their glory as he screamed back, his towering frame far more intimidating than yours.

The blind rage is slapped out of him when he sees your terrified face.

If you’re at the castle, he’ll order you to leave if you haven’t already. Anywhere else, he’ll turn and leave without a word. 

He wants to put distance between you both for fear of making things worse.

He absolutely cannot believe he just blew up at you. He would have never thought he'd raise his voice at his partner regardless of the situation.

He can’t shake the image of you flinching from him from his mind.

Now, being the prince of hell certainty has it’s perks; He has power, influence, and everything he could want.

But the one thing he wants the most seems to evade him no matter what: a friend.

A real friend. 

He has Barbatos and Lucifer, but it’s Barbatos’ job to accompany the prince, and Lucifer is bound to Diavolo whether he likes the future king or not.

MC was the first person who chooses to be with and around him for no other reason than the fact that they love him.

And now he’s terrified them. Gotten in their face and screamed at them.

He assumes he’s permanently driven you away.

As soon as you leave or he gets home, he rushes to find Barbatos. To explain what happened and hope his butler would know what to do.

He’ll text Lucifer and ask him to check on you as well.

He just feels lost. 

He wanders the palace aimlessly and he can’t focus on his work without his thoughts drifting to you.

He doesn’t feel like going to school or even getting out of bed. He doesn’t want to speak to anyone - to put on a happy face and pretend his world isn’t shaking.

Yet, a prince has his responsibilities. He will go about his normal public appearances as usual, smile and laugh and carry on, but it’s a mask.

Those close to him clearly notice the prince isn’t himself.

After school he visits the spots that you two visit together frequently.  

Anything to make him feel as if you are still at his side.

If you don’t sleep in his bed that night, he’ll take it as proof that he was right and that you don’t want to be with him anymore.

He doesn’t sleep that night. He clutches your pillow that still smells of you and just bawls. 

He will tell Barbatos he feels unwell the next morning and to postpone his obligations for the day.

This prompts Barbatos to seek you out and see if he can help resolve the issue.

Barbatos tries to stay out of your relationship as he doesn't feel it's his business, but his job is to assist Diabolo in any way necessary. And right now, he needs you more than anything.

If you sleep at his side still, it will be a glimmer a hope. That all may not be lost. 

He’ll give you you space that night. He’ll walk around you on eggshells but always watch you from the corner of his eye to gauge the temperature.

He avoids your gaze, stays on the other side of the room as you prepare for bed, and as much as it kills him, doesn’t hug you or kiss you goodnight.

He spends the night staring at your sleeping face and making silent promises that, if you forgive him, he will never let this happen again.

He thinks of how to apologize. What he could say, what he could do. 

Ultimately though, it feels like everything he could think of is too little of an apology. 

He pretends to be asleep when he sees you stir and decides to let you choose if you want to forgive him on your own.

You will have to approach him first. 

He thinks losing his temper with you was unacceptable and feels like he has no right to ask for your forgiveness.

Worse, he’s terrified of not being given forgiveness.

Thus, I feel a fight with Diavolo will take as long as you let it. He’s willing to suffer as long as you need him to.

Barbatos:

Barbatos doesn’t argue. He sits quietly and watches you, his responses calm but absolute.

He’s no pushover, he will defend his side, but he’s not going to enter a screaming match. It’s just not him.

You know you’ve really gotten under his skin when he offers a tight, forcefully pleasant smile.

He finally shuts down the conflict with "It's your right to feel that way just as it's mine to disagree." And leave it at that.

Post argument, he will avoid you and lock his feelings about the fight inside.

He tells himself he doesn’t have time to deal with the terrible feeling clawing at his heart and takes to his duties as an escape.

If you sleep in another room, he realizes that this isn’t a minor disagreement and he’s suddenly very distressed.

His instinct is to use his future vision. 

To scour the timelines and see how the different versions of himself handle it and to replicate the one with the most desirable outcome.

However, he stops himself. He feels it isn’t fair to you. 

You have a right to be upset about things and he doesn’t want to manipulate the situation, and by extension, you.

Thus, he must find another way to cope.

He’s always a devoted butler, but it’s not his whole life. 

He takes time for himself throughout the day and in the evenings. Unless Diavolo needs him, nights are usually his to do with as he wants.

Now, however, his identity becomes Diavolo’s butler. 

He’s constantly asking for extra work and hovering more than usual around the young lord in hopes of being given a task. 

Diavolo finds it odd and asks about it, but he brushes it off. This isn’t anyone else’s business, least of all his employer’s.

Even though Barbatos won’t tell him, Diavolo can clearly tell his friend is off.

In hopes of giving him something to distract himself with, Diavolo requests hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies and Barbatos jumps on the opportunity. 

Baking has always been his escape as well as his happy place. Diavolo’s favorite isn’t easy to make, so he looked forward to the task.

And it worked. Keeping track of the ingredients, the steps, and the technique required was enough to occupy his mind.

But then it was time to wait for it to bake. 

He suddenly feels trapped in the suffocating silence of the kitchen.

His mind replays the argument on repeat as he falls down a rabbit hole of what ifs.

He loves you more than anything and the last thing he could ever want is for you to be mad at him.

No, the worst thing would to no longer be able to call you his.

Suddenly, he becomes aware of the sharp scent of burnt food.

He jumps up and runs to the oven. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed the timer go off.

He pulls the blackened desert out, puts the cookie sheet on the stove top, and just stares at the burnt cookies.

His sight blurs and a soft sob escapes from the prison he’s created in his heart.

He wasn’t crying because he burnt the cookies, but because they were a visual representation of everything he’s been trying to suppress.

Once he collects himself, he knows he can’t continue like this. 

He doesn’t want to invade your space in case you’re still mad, but he needs a resolution.

He’ll send a quick text and silently begs you to respond. 

“MC, I understand if you are still upset with me, but would you be willing to talk though it? I look forward to hearing from you.”

If you still sleep with him that night, it is a great weight off of his shoulders. 

He hopes it means that it will be easier to make up with you and that you aren’t too mad.

When you wake up, he will be watching you like he has all night with a small, tired smile. 

He’ll put on your favorite tea as you get ready for the day then asks if you’d be willing to talk things over.

Because of how it affects both his job and himself, a fight with Barbados will not last long. He’ll seek a resolution by one, maybe two days tops.

Solomon: 

Lucifer may be the avatar of pride, but Solomon can certainly give the demon a run for his money.

In the moment of a particularly heated argument, he absolutely will not admit he’s wrong. 

In fact, he really doesn’t consider it a possibility.

There’s no point in trying to get him to see your side until things have calmed down. It’s like talking to a brick wall.

He won’t yell, but he gets a pissy, condescending tone and almost talks down to you.

If you really push his buttons, his patience with this “useless” argument runs out.

“Oh please, listen to yourself! You’re acting like a dull child!”

Freezes as soon as it leaves his mouth.

He didn’t mean to say that.

He opens his mouth to apologize immediately, but upon seeing your hurt reaction he becomes flustered and can’t get the words out.

He’ll simply turn and leave. 

He’s absolutely furious with himself. 

Solomon is old and wise. He’s seen many things, been many places, and he knows many things.

Sometimes though, he needs a reminder that he doesn’t know everything.

Even if he still feels he was right, he knows name-calling is unacceptable.

In fact, he doesn’t miss the irony that he was the one being childish. 

His self-fury is replaced by overwhelming worry if you sleep in another room that night.

Of all the treasures he’s come across, none were as precious as you. 

He can’t stand the thought of losing you because of his thoughtlessness.

For once, he feels like an idiot.

He locks himself in his study that night and brainstorms on how to make it up to you.

He decides to approach you in the morning at RAD. He’s terrified that you think he actually meant the insult and wants to clear the air as soon as possible.

He’s afraid of you taking anything less than his highest praise to heart or for you to think that he views you as below himself. 

The thought of how he must have made you feel makes him sick to his stomach.

The more he thinks about it, the more his body demands that he act. 

While he has many virtues, patience is not high on his list. 

Assuming you returned to The House of Lamentation that night, he’ll text Asmo to explain what happened and asks if he’d let him in first thing in the morning.

Thus, when you leave to head for breakfast, be careful not to trip over your sorcerer who’s seated against the wall outside of your room.

He scrambles to his feet, his hair and clothes a mess and bags heavy under his eyes.

“MC! Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I just- *sighs* I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Would you be willing to discuss the matter again? The right way this time.”

If you do sleep with him, he’s at least relieved that you don’t seem like you plan to leave him.

Once again, however, he wants to clear the air as soon as he can.

You’ll both be sitting in silence as you get ready for bed. He’s clearly lost in thought, his eyes focused unblinking on his feet and any movements slow and disjointed.

He's not sure how to apologize, if it's too soon, and is afraid to make things worse if it's not an appropriate time.

However, seeing you move about the room he decides to risk it so he doesn't risk losing you.

Suddenly, he stands up straight and locks eyes with you.

“MC, we don’t have to talk about the fight tonight, but I need you to know that I didn’t mean what I said. I’m sorry.”

It’s up to you if you want to forgive him immediately, but he will at least apologize for the insult as soon as he gathers his thoughts.

Simeon:

If you yell at him, Simeon is just gonna sit there stunned

Your relationship is usually as laid back as he is, so he doesn't know what to do with you blowing up at him.

All he knows it that this is bad and he needs to find a way to make you happy again. 

The thought of losing you takes precedence over everything and, though he will not sway to your side just because you’re upset, the argument loses any worth it had to him.

He’ll go to Solomon almost immediately in hopes your fellow human might know better about how arguments are resolved between human couples.

He becomes very distressed when Solomon says everyone handles it differently. He then asks what he should to make up with you specifically.

He doesn't have a defined emotion right now, he's just on edge. He wants to gather information first and foremost so he can figure out what to do from there.

He’s just a walking ball of anxiety and those close to the angel even become concerned. No one has seen him like this before.

If you decide to sleep in another room, the anxiety just takes over. 

His chest feels like fiery chains are crushing his ribs, he can hear his heart is hammering in his head, and his body begins to shake as if he were buried in an avalanche.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying as he struggles to breathe.

Solomon had expected something like this may happen so he made sure to be nearby to help coach him though it.

Once he’s calmed down, Solomon urges him to talk to you as soon as possible.

Simeon isn't sure though. True, he wasn't in a good place, but he didn't want to push you if you weren't ready to talk.

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t feel like he can think let alone coherently tell you how he feels.

He begins to feel overwhelmed again and decides to try writing down his thoughts in hopes of it helping him sort through the tsunami of emotions consuming him.

While it doesn't completely calm him down, it does help.

He stares down at the messy, tear blotted papee and has an idea.

The next morning you should expect to find a hand-written letter slipped under you door.

The letter is long and and rambling. His usually pristine handwriting is as shaky as his hands were when writing it.

It's not as dense and heartbroken as his original one, but the further it goes the more desperate his words become.

He writes about how much you mean to him and apologizes for allowing things to get that intense. He writes that he loves you and doesn’t want to lose you. 

He reminisces about his favorite memories of you two together more than once.

Finally, that no disagreement you two could ever have is more importantly to him than being with you.

It's really just a collection of everything sitting on his heart at the moment.

That day at RAD he’ll watch you from the sidelines and pray you approach him about the letter so you two can work things out.

If you still sleep in his bed, he’ll be very conflicted about if he should approach you yet. 

He’s afraid of making it worse if you’re still mad.

However, Simeon is an open book when it comes to his emotions so you will absolutely be able to tell that he’s freaking out.

So please, save the man a terrible night and talk it though with him.

He wants you to not be angry anymore, but even if you’re still upset just having concrete information to cling to will help him immensely. 

He’s thinking of all the worst case scenarios and needs reassurance that the relationship isn’t over.

Simeon will try to make up within a day, so however long it lasts after that is up to you.

Luke (MC is his best friend):

Luke will be very, very distressed. 

You’re his best friend aside from Simeon. Friends don’t fight like this, right?

Wait, so if you’re fighting with him, does that mean you’re not his friend anymore???

As soon as the thought enters his mind, he decides that must be the case. 

Real friends don’t fight with each other like this.

Externally he takes a “I don’t need a lousy human like you for a friend anyway” attitude. 

He’s not just testy with you though, anyone who interacts with him that day learns that chihuahuas bite.

Simeon immediately realizes something isn’t right and is very concerned.

As soon as he asks him what’s wrong, Luke's mask of anger is discarded and he tosses himself in the older angel’s arms crying hysterically.

He doesn’t want to lose you for a friend.

I doubt Luke has ever truly argued with someone so this uncharted territory is earth shattering to him.

Simeon, as he tries to calm Luke, he will text you and ask you to come to wherever they are immediately.

Because of Simeon’s intervention, the fight will only go undiscussed for a few hours max.

Again, sorry if I don’t know these characters as well as I’d like yet. Thank you for reading! 

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing ix.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 3, 844

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

Jungkook recognises that it’s, to a fault, extremely unhealthy for him to pretend like his problems don’t exist and bury them under a blanket of social interactions that were meaningless to him and excessively working out at the gym so he could get his mind off things.

Granted, it was always how Jungkook dealt with things and he was a creature of habit. He was stubborn and irrational at most times, and usually pretending like his problems didn’t exist did him relatively well. Because like most things in life, problems passed and if people were his problem then he’d just not talk to them. Simple, really. Jungkook had it figured out right to the o.

Well, until he realised that a huge chunk of his problems, though irrationally, was working out right beside him.

“You almost done?” Namjoon grunts, finishing his last rep as he drops the weight to the ground as it sounds through the empty gym.

Only because Namjoon and Jungkook were the only people that were crazy enough to work out at eleven o'clock on a school night. But realistically speaking, Jungkook only asked the football group out of formalities and did not expect his own captain to have responded.

Maybe because you’re too busy hanging out with _____, came Jungkook’s bitter thought. But surprise, Namjoon was very much sweaty and engaged in the workout session that has Jungkook’s head spinning.

“Yeah.” Jungkook huffs, dropping his own weight before he dabs the hem of his tank top to his forehead to catch the bead of sweat before it drops.

Namjoon walks over to pick up his own bottle and toss Jungkook his own before he chugs the liquid in one go.

Jungkook has half the mind to be a petty motherfucker and rejects it but he was way too parched to deny the tempting object. Besides, he could pretend like Namjoon wasn’t the bulk of his many problems. Even if he knew Namjoon was unsuspecting of everything, it was easier to blame him for the fact that you weren’t keen on hanging out with him than himself.

“The circuit today was intense.” Namjoon points out, shooting a raised eyebrow expression in Jungkook’s direction. “You nearly killed me, man.” He finishes with a teasing tone.

Jungkook huffs dryly, “Maybe that’s a sign for you to work out more.”

He’s being bitter, he knows that. Because Namjoon was huge and hit the gym as frequently as Jungkook did.

Namjoon, however, is oblivious to this. “Maybe.” And Jungkook hates that he accepts it so easily.

Jungkook’s mind is all over the place and never mind that he’s burnt enough calories to last him his workout quota for the next two weeks, but he has the urge to pry. To ask Namjoon things that he no longer had the privilege to ask you anymore.

But before he can say anything, Namjoon beats him to the first word.

“You and ____ are close right?”

Jungkook pauses, fist tightening around the bottle before he clears his throat. “Um. Kind of.” Because he wasn’t sure anymore, so he settled for that instead you conveyed otherwise to Namjoon. But he knew that you wouldn’t, you weren’t petty like that. “Why do you ask?”

And Jungkook doesn’t like the way that Namjoon looks nervous. Call it his sixth sense, but he just doesn’t like the insinuation behind the way Namjoon fiddles with his fingers.

“Well, you, Jimin and Tae are, right?” Namjoon asks. “And Yena, but I already had this conversation with her anyways.”

“What conversation?” Jungkook immediately asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“I think it’s pretty obvious to most people that I’m into her.” Namjoon snorts, but Jungkook can’t find it in himself to laugh.

“Right.”

“Things have been going well and so far all the hangouts we’ve had were friendly,” Namjoon says with a small smile.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to do with the information he was receiving or why he was even receiving it in the first place. Sure, Namjoon and he were close because they were under the same football team and chemistry between players was definitely a prerequisite when it came to bagging wins.

“That’s nice to hear.” Jungkook grunts.

Namjoon nods absent-mindedly as he plops onto one of the workout benches, swinging a towel over his shoulder. “I told her that I wouldn’t rush into things with her but I really do like her. And I want to ask her out. Officially, that is.”

Jungkook quite literally freezes all his limbs when the words tumble out of Namjoon’s mouth.

“And because you’re important to her, I just wanted to know if you were okay with that? I mean—she has to be okay with it but you’re someone she cares about so your opinion does matter to a certain extent. Either way, I’m going to do it but I thought it was just courteous of me to let you know.”

And damn you for being courteous, Jungkook curses to himself mentally.

“What?” Jungkook croaks because that’s all he can manage.

He’s heard it from Jeonghan, Yugyeom and Jaehyun when it came to locker-room talk but he’s brushed it off because what did they know, right? Even if Yena was heard whispering to Jimin conspiringly, he’d pretended he hadn’t heard a single word just so he could delude himself into thinking that it wasn’t real.

But for Namjoon to directly confirm it to his face, Jungkook feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“I don’t know, man.” Namjoon sighs, “She’s really something else, you know? I’ve been kind of admiring from afar for a really long time because someone wouldn’t introduce her to me”—he shoots a playful glare to a stone-faced Jungkook who can’t even respond—“and getting to know her personally just really solidified the fact that I really like her.”

Jungkook is a level-headed man, most of the time at least, but there were things that threw him off. Overly salty food, flash mobs, microwaves; but most of the time he was able to recover.

Most. Not all.

“No.”

Namjoon freezes, and so does Jungkook. But for two very different reasons.

“I’m sorry, did you just say no?” Namjoon asks dumbfounded.

Jungkook can’t stop his mouth. “Yeah.” He swallows. Stop talking. “No.”

Namjoon furrows his brows, “Yeah to you saying no or, yeah to literally the context of this conversation?”

Jungkook has never resented Namjoon more than right now, even when he’d made the team run extra laps as a warm-up.

“You can’t.” Jungkook deadpans. “You can’t ask her out.”

And for as long as Jungkook knew Namjoon, he knew that under the calm and collected exterior that he took most of the time because he was the captain of the football team, and diplomacy was necessary. He was petty, and to a certain extent, immature. But he did a far better job and conveying his displeasure compared to Jungkook.

“Okay, and who are you—her dad?” Namjoon scoffs.

Even if it was made explicitly clear by Namjoon that he was doing so out of respect for you, Jungkook still felt the need to defend himself.

“Her friend.” Jungkook snaps. “And you’re my captain. That’s just—weird.”

He knows his excuse is lame, and so does Namjoon.

“Really,” Namjoon says dryly. “That’s your excuse?”

“Not an excuse. Facts.” Jungkook retorts childishly.

Namjoon snorts before raising an eyebrow at Jungkook who is all but making eye contact with him.

“Does this have to do with why you weren’t keen on introducing her to me in the first place when I asked?”

Jungkook nearly drops his water bottle when he swings around, face scandalised in a way that shows that he’s been caught but attempting to deflect.

“What the fuck are you even saying.” He splutters.

Namjoon is as calm as ever, “You tell me, Jungkook. I don’t see a legitimate reason as to why I can’t ask her out.”

Jungkook scoffs, cheeks red. “I told you. It’s weird. What if you guys break up? How’s that going to be for Jimin, Tae and I?”

Namjoon blinks.

“I can be civil.” He shrugs. “The question is, can you?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes into slits as he observes Namjoon. He’s never gotten into any conflicting situations with Namjoon, purely because he never had a reason to. He never knew his captain could be so … retort-inducing, but here he was. Ready to snap back, for a very childish reason he wasn’t ready to unpack just yet.

“Look. How bout’ you think about it a little more?” Jungkook feigns disinterest when he fiddles with his gym bag as if he was looking for something. It was an escape to this conversation. “The two of you just started hanging out and she’s not the type that likes it rushed, anyways.”

“I’m not asking her to marry me, Jungkook.” Namjoon blinks.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “I know. If you were I think I’d have a stroke.” He mutters. “Thing is, there’s probably a lot of things that you don’t know about her yet so you may as well just … wait.”

His excuses are getting a lot more pathetic by the second, and Namjoon clearly feels the same because he shoots a frown at Jungkook.

“That’s the point of asking her out … to get to know her.” Namjoon drawls slowly, stating the obvious.

Jungkook lets out an exasperated sigh and he wants this conversation to be over because he’s already let out more than what he’d like.

“She’s just not the type …” Jungkook lamely defends.

Namjoon purses his lips. “And that’s coming from you?”

Jungkook glares at Namjoon who doesn’t look like he’s going to back down.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “It means—you’re not her so you have no right to be assuming shit about her. I don’t care if you’re her best friend or whatever the hell you are to her that makes you think you automatically know what she wants or doesn’t. The reason why I’m telling you all of this is purely out of respect for her, and her only. Frankly—I couldn’t give a rats ass about your opinion on this.”

Jungkook gapes at Namjoon because this is the first time he’s seen him anything less than cool and collected. But perhaps this was why he was always taken so seriously in every context he’s found himself in. Namjoon was diplomatic when he need be, and firm when necessary. This was one of those occasions and Jungkook hates that it’s him on the receiving end under the context of you being the topic of conversation.

“Well—”

“And, if you have something you want to say to her.” Namjoon sighs, throwing his gym bag over his shoulder and levelling a look so serious that it sends a shudder down Jungkook’s spine, “Be honest to her. She doesn’t deserve anything less than that.”

Right before Namjoon turns around to leave, Jungkook has to ask—

“How did you know?”

He doesn’t have to say what, because Namjoon clearly knows what he was talking about. The stiff chuckle he releases is enough to prove that.

“I’m not stupid, Jungkook.” He says. “First it was not introducing us to each other and now it’s the unwarranted possessiveness. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

Jungkook purses his lips, feeling his blood run cold because if Namjoon knew then …

“So what? You’re going to tell her?” He accuses.

Namjoon scoffs. “Jungkook, I like you. You’re a good friend of mine. I’m not going to fuck you over like that. That’s your own issue to deal with.”

“Sure doesn’t feel like it,” Jungkook mutters dryly.

Namjoon sighs, turning his body to face Jungkook as he offers him a blank expression that he can’t quite read.

“I don’t know about you but I’m not the type to conflate my personal life with my friend's personal life. Sure, we like the same girl—” Jungkook winces, but Namjoon continues anyway. “—but life goes on. I’m a big boy and so are you, right?”

Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek when Namjoon offers a slight smirk with a raised eyebrow.

“So you’re backing off?”

The slight hopeful tone that Jungkook has is naive, and he knows that. But a selfish part of him just wished that Namjoon would so he could figure out how to solve and fix things between the two of you without the interruption of his own football captain in the mix.

Namjoon snorts, “No way. What did you take me for—a pushover?”

Jungkook gapes, “Then what—?”

“I’m still going to ask her out. Your feelings are your own and it’s not my responsibility to look after them for you.” He shrugs, turning on his heel to leave the gym. His hands are on the knob when he turns around. “She’s single. Nothing’s stopping you or me from doing anything.”

And he leaves, not before he adds: “Don’t be late for training tomorrow. We have circuit training.”

It’s been a week since you’ve last spoken to Jungkook and two weeks since he’s apologised to you at your apartment. You still remember the ghost of his lips, the heat of his hands when he held you close.

You still had moments in between where you were distracted, but there was something oddly compelling about a person you were trying to forget for the time being that haunts your every thought. And you hated yourself for it, for still wondering if he was okay or how he was doing when you were the one that put distance between the two of you.

Maybe that’s why your hand reaches out to your phone, but it’s as if God had sent you a Guardian Angel when a hand grips your wrist.

“I thought we weren’t touching our phones?” Namjoon has a teasing tilt to his voice when he murmurs the words.

You flush, meekly retracting your hand as you send him a playful glare.

“What are you? The exam invigilator?” You scowl.

Namjoon snorts before rubbing a thumb between your furrowed brows. You can’t help but flush harder, pouting at him when all he does is grin at you.

“I’m meant to be the person you’re paying attention to.” He returns, voice husky and you feel yourself grow flustered.

Obviously, because Namjoon was attractive and he told you on occasions that he’d intentionally raised the pitch of his voice because it was way too deep for people to understand.

“Grow up.” You mutter, but your tone is light when you roll your eyes at him.

You’ve grown much more comfortable with Namjoon in the recent times you’ve hung out with him, purely because there was something very welcoming about a person like him. He was understanding and calm, yet he was absolutely hilarious without even needing to try. There were moments where he’d make you laugh until you cry which resulted in the librarians shooting you glares from their desks.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He hums, definitely recognising the way you were a little out of the loop even throughout your study session.

The library is quiet during this hour because it wasn’t exam season and rarely were students willing to spend time on a school night at the library against their own will.

“Just … stuff.” You sigh.

And Namjoon frowns ever so slightly because you were always like this, tucked away in your own compartment as if you were afraid to reveal anything more.

“You can always talk to me, you know?” He whispers, eyes focusing on your face when he leans down.

You purse your lips and you nod. You knew you could, but your problems were far more complex than what you could describe in words. Besides, you knew that Namjoon had some … form of feelings to you—so how the hell were you supposed to explain the fact that you’ve allowed your best friend to touch you in a way that a lover is meant to?

“I know.” You sigh, fiddling with your fingers when you bring yourself to look up at him through your eyelashes. “It’s really complicated and I don’t want to unload onto you.”

Namjoon smiles at you so gently you feel even guiltier for feeling the way you do.

“And I’m a pretty simple guy. Say anything and I’ll take it at face value.” He jokes.

You roll your eyes at him and shove at his chest. Only then do you realise how close the two of you are. When did his face get so close to yours? Why were you only realising his breath on your cheek?

It’s late, and you’re tired from the copious amount of studying so maybe that’s why your eyes involuntarily dart to his lips that were much closer to you than you’d realised.

“Can I do something?” He murmurs, and you watch his lips move when he asks.

You find yourself blindly nodding, too caught up in the moment.

Namjoon reaches a gentle hand around your jaw, cradling it so softly as if he was afraid to hurt you. A touch you’re familiar yet new to, enough for you to remember and think of Jungkook even if it’s Namjoon in front of you.

The logical part of you tells you to push Namjoon away, to not subject him to this unfair treatment when you know your heart lays elsewhere. But you’re human and you’re selfish because you’ve never been doted on like this—never looked in a way that shows you that he wants you.

Namjoon tilts your head up so that he’s looking straight into your eyes and you’re positive your face is on fire. It feels … nice. But that’s it. You don’t feel exhilarated like you did when Jungkook held you, and you curse yourself for always comparing the two.

He leans in so slowly that you’re quite literally gripping the edge of your seat. You realise this, though.

Namjoon is strategic when he maps out the journey to your lips, both careful and calm when he brings you closer like he’s been preparing for this for a long time. What you remember, is Jungkook—a spontaneous lover who smirks against kisses and tugs you closer in a rush that makes your head spin.

The two are so different, and you’re inclined to want Namjoon too. But you’ve always been a sucker for adrenaline.

But you push those thoughts away and try to focus on the way Namjoon is treating you so tenderly.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers against your lips and you feel your response before you say it.

“Yeah.” You breathe, fingers digging into your seat.

And Namjoon looks stunning up close, suave and handsome like you always knew him to be when he closes the distance.

He presses into your lips so softly that you barely feel it at first, not until he’s tilting his head to bring you closer and his other hand cups the other side of your face.

Your face is hot because he’s the second person you’ve ever kissed and it feels … it feels. You like it. That’s what you think.

You don’t dare go further than return his kiss, and Namjoon is far too gentlemanly to prod at your lips.

Your hand instinctively reaches out to wrap them around his neck, but a voice interrupts your movements.

“______?”

Immediately, you pull away—remembering where you were and how easy it was for you to be spotted locking lips with Namjoon.

You flush, turning to the source of the voice to mumble a sheepish apology until you realise who it is—and your face pales.

Not only because is it Jungkook, who’s staring at you and Namjoon with a hardened gaze. But because of the company he has.

“Cute,” Jennie smirks, arms looped around Jungkook’s and you feel your throat clam shut.

Namjoon notices the drop in your expression that you try to hide, and he reaches out to squeeze your hand in an attempt to offer consolation. He doesn’t need to guess why.

“What are you—?”

“We were about to leave, right?” Namjoon murmurs so softly that you barely catch him. Not until you realise that Jennie has her eyebrow cocked, awaiting your response.

You blink before you turn to Namjoon who’s still looking at you so gently.

He didn’t deserve this.

“I’ll go.” You say curtly, softly taking your hand back from where he’s squeezing it as you offer an apologetic look to him. All while Jungkook is still staring at you.

“Wait, ____—” Jungkook reaches out to grab at your elbow, and you immediately pull away as if you’ve been scathed.

You knew you didn’t have a right to feel this way, not when you made it explicitly clear that you needed time away from him. But you also thought you made it clear how you felt about him and he was around her … again. It’s like a bucket of cold water that’s been washed upon you and you feel like utter shit when you see Jennie smile up at you, completely oblivious to the conflict you were having in your heart.

“I’ll walk you back.” Namjoon stands up, even as you attempt to protest. But Namjoon levels you with a firm expression that has you snapping your mouth shut and sighing to yourself, begrudgingly allowing him to stand by your side; almost towering over you and even Jungkook when he shoots him a withering glare.

“I’ll do it.” Jungkook snaps back, shaking Jennie’s arm off of him.

Before Namjoon can respond, you’re doing it for him.

“There’s no need, Jungkook.” You say softly, avoiding his eyes.

You don’t have to look at him to see the fall in his face.

“I just wanted to talk—”

“There’s nothing we can’t talk about with them here, right?” You smile stiffly at him.

Jungkook pauses, hands too as they reach for your shoulder.

“It’s not what it—”

You’re cutting him off again, tired of hearing the same thing fall from his lips, “you don’t need to say anything.”

But your heart wants to stay even if your mind knows it’s a bad idea. You’re lucky Namjoon was there because he’s tugging you aside with his arms.

“Let’s go, okay?” He whispers into your ear, soft enough so only you can hear.

You nod your head, turning to leave when you feel your heart break for the same reason again. You hate that your first instinct is the hotness behind your eyelids.

“So you’re with him?” Jungkook huffs, and you can tell he’s exasperated.

You’re about to retort, but Namjoon shakes his head—turns around to mouth something to Jungkook you can’t be bothered to see before he’s leading you out the library, leaving Jungkook and Jennie there.

Right before you step out, you hear Jennie say:

“We should do a double date.”

Namjoon hears this too and wraps an arm around your shoulder as he squeezes. He’s nice enough that he doesn’t ask why you were sniffling on the walk back to your home.

[in-tua-deep]

Are you into my hero academia? What about an AU or crossover with tua?

UHHHH I am technically, like, peripherally? I watched some seasons of the show like two or three years ago and since then have simply absorbed all content through osmosis, reading fanfiction that has canon events, and my sister telling me about the arcs of her fav characters lmao

so a crossover hmmm

First of all you'd have to like, establish whether bnha is an alternate universe or just The Future If No Apocalypse with quirks being traced back to the descendants of the kids born without mothers

So let's say it's that - the glowing baby was the "first quirk" but the truth is people had powers before that. But - well, the Umbrella Academy was obviously a marketing gimmick to those in the future! There were even comics based on them

In the future, you might find some of those comics in museum exhibits dedicated to depictions of powers in the pre-quirk era, but they're just fun depictions and much less popular than, oh, DC or MCU comics which are also in the exhibits!

End of s2 doesn't happen I guess in this au?? No sparrow academy at least lmao. So, the Umbrella Academy stop the apocalypse (again) and the Commission threat is? Neutralized? Whatever. They decide to jump back to the future

Five warns them that time travel is a crapshoot, that he has no fucking idea when they'll land beyond some nebulous "future" because Five can at least control the direction if not exactly how long

Also, Five is like. Super tired. Incredibly tired. Homeboy still has a healing gut wound, time traveled twice, has been jumping all over the place, gotten even more injured, experienced paradox psychosis, and managed to undo time all in the space of like, two weeks. There actually more than that but we don't have time to get into how fucking tired Five is from his ~Month of Hell

Like genuinely this is like putting someone almost delirious from lack of sleep in the driver's seat of a car and expecting to get to your destination in one piece

But hey, the siblings are like "do it uwu" and Five has sacrificed everything for them already so why not get behind the wheel again

So Five jumps them, and of course something goes wrong because Five has pushed his powers like a great big rubber band and honestly it was only a matter of time before he lost his grip and it snapped back to hit him

So here be the umbrella academy: spilled out into the future like a cup of bad coffee.

Five probably isn't in too good of shape tbh, like they're hundreds of years in the future (but hey at least confirmation of no apocalypse am I right) in a world full of superpowers and Five is like. bleeding from his ears and nose probably idk

Let's handwave a little bit - Reginald made them all polyglots so the squad all speak varying levels of Japanese. Allison is the best at it, Five is second best but tends to use more archaic words bc he had missions in Japan back when he was with the commission, and Klaus is third best.

(Ben is the worst bc he decided when he was 16-and-dead that he didn't have to do anything regarding lessons and maintenance and hasn't given a shit since - but also he's dead so)

So you have a bunch of weird adults with a bleeding child in like, an alley who have appeared from nowhere

so of course heroes get involved

Anyway, the squad get taken in and Five is conscious but like, barely? And he's not going to let himself get separated from his siblings again fuck-you-officer and there is a lot of confusion

anyway detective tsukauchi ends up getting involved and ends up having to hear this batshit story and be like "...truth." which sends all kinds of people scrambling because fucking time travel? Like yeah, it's been theorized to be a possible quirk but there's no recorded cases of any sort of time travel that is for more than 24 hours let alone hundreds of years

"I'm an adult." Five says sourly, "I just happened to be returned to my 13 year old body when I time traveled one time."

"True." Tsukauchi says, feeling his soul leave his body, but like. absently. the way he does when he's called in at 2am after getting off of work at midnight.

"I'm 58." Five says.

"Lie." Tsukauchi says, because this is a headcanon hill I will die on.

"I'm probably 58, but it was hard to keep track. I'm at least 50." Five corrects.

"True." Tsukauchi sighs like these six (seven? they keep referring to another sibling and Klaus said 'ghost' like that was fine and it registered as true and Tsukauchi is not nearly paid enough for this) are not giving him a migraine by just existing

on the bright side there's like, probably protocols in place for individuals who are Legally Chronologically Adults but thanks to quirks are Not Physically Or Not Mentally Adults with tests to determine if the individual needs a guardian or not

though i'm gonna be honest idk if Five would pass the test bc he literally cannot take care of himself at all, has never paid taxes or understands how to exist legally, and also his emotional maturity is stunted as all hell. also like. we don't actually know how much being in his thirteen-year-old body affects his mental state but yeAH Five is vibing

anyway Tsukauchi probably phones a friend on this bullshit because Time Travel Child alone is probably enough for the Hero Commission to be like "find a way to control and use it or nuke it from orbit" and that's not even touching whatever the fuck Klaus is doing (shit gets real once 'dead men tell no tales' stops being true) let ALONE Allison's whole deal

on the bright side like, at least Vanya isn't getting side-eyed that much bc Big Destructive Quirks aren't exactly unknown? if vanya wanted to i guess quirk suppressors exist for that until extensive training on how to control a super powerful quirk happens

Tsukauchi in the group chat: Aizawa please I am literally begging you to take this bullshit on

Aizawa: in this economy? with my class?

RatGod: lol we'll take them ;3c

Aizawa: no

Anyway they probably end up having to live at UA while Five insists on trying to get them home still and everyone else is like "oh hey we used to be child soldiers as well! (:" and Aizawa is like "i hate everything about this and everything about all of you but also like nedzu is making me interact with you so :/"

nedzu is out here vibing like "lol i just don't want the hero commission to get their little paws on these time traveling fuckers, i think you should make then teaching assistants or something"

honestly the siblings are probably like. figuring out how to function in the bnha universe and getting like, legally registered and stuff while Five ferally refuses bc that's like saying he's giving up on getting them home and he can do this

Recovery girl tries to heal him a little when he arrives and he passes out for two weeks like, immediately bc homeboy is running on fumes and spite at this point

also i think on principle it would be REALLY FUNNY if the squad got to tag along with the class bc like. Five is thirteen and the class are all 15. this does not sound like a large age gap. anyone who has interacted with teenagers know that the class would squint at Five and be like "who is this sassy lost middle schooler."

I feel like when I was a sophomore we were still like "freshman... babie" even though we were literally only one year older.

i think the difference between the umbrella academy and school kids would be pretty funny like. objectively the bnha kids are lowkey child soldiers?? like they're 15 and fighting villains but like, there's all this red tape and laws and stuff but,,, deku still be breaking his limbs in a child fighting ring against equally superpowered children for like. entertainment and sponsorships sooo

but also like Five would be like "oh cool when is the experimentation class"

"the what"

"you know, when your powers are pushed real hard by putting you in different terrible situations while your dad and sibling stand by with clipboards writing down the exact voltage it takes before you can't use your powers anymore when being electrocuted"

"hound dog's office is right there. therapy is available to you at any time. i need you to know this."

all might calls Luther "my boy" like one (1) time and Luther just breaks down crying probably because he is starved for positive attention

klaus and midnight get along like a literal house on fire, aizawa tried his best to keep them apart for as long as possible but god damn

(klaus: your name is shimura nana??

all might: immediately dies choking on blood)

i feel it absolutely necessary to point out that aizawa, present mic, and midnight are all like, 30? and the umbrella academy are all between 29-early 30s? they are PEERS but like. the umbrella academy are more chaotic due to childhood trauma

the umbrella academy probably get offered to like. also train to be heroes. i mean,, there HAS to be some sort of track for people who change careers right?? you don't have to cement your future as a hero when you're 15 i'm sure there must be something and the squad already have experience if they want to go be legal heroes

diego probably does at least?? diego just vibes honestly. diego gets momo to make knives during a team exercise and they just go feral on everyone else and it ends with diego highfiving momo and someone getting way to close to being stabbed for comfort

Five might just be. legally enrolled as an Actual Student? But also i think it's funny to picture the entire squad just. all in the back of the classroom with luther trying to fit into a high school desk as they take notes on the laws of The Future surrounding heroics

every word out of the umbrella academy's mouths just make everyone more concerned on principal but like, five and klaus are probably the worst offenders. Klaus just says whatever comes to mind with no filter and Five doesn't get what people would consider to be abnormal anymore like

Five: yeah our dad bought us when we were babies and experimented on us throughout our childhood in order to make an elite team of child soldiers superheroes, it happens

Todoroki: ...have you heard of quirk marriages?

izuku probably has an aneurism bc he's is the only person who might recognize them from the comics because you know ya boy extensively researched the idea of heroics in pre-quirk eras (batman was an inspiration alright???) and might dredge up a memory of a less popular comic series

Five: I can time travel but it is very hard, which is why we are hundreds of years in the future. And why I look like a child.

Kaminari: so are you a kid or not?

Five, serenely: whatever is most convenient for me at any given moment

Mina: hell yeah game the system

they have a brief lesson on astronomy and Luther raises his hand like "ooh! i was isolated on the moon for four years and did SO MUCH research" and then just gets up and starts infodumping like way too much information on the moon

Izuku sitting there like "damn if quirks hadn't popped up we could have achieved so much in terms of space travel. please tell me more giant man who lived in pre-quirk era."

Vanya finds out about the quirkless and is like "oh mood that genuinely sounds like my childhood, being ordinary in a house full of extraordinary people, and then i found out that i did have powers but only much later in life after i had already been emotionally scarred by the experience"

deku: vanya we have so much in common

iida and uraraka: concerned noises

aizawa: hound dog. therapy with hound dog for all of you.

there's probably some conflict with like, the hero commission wanting to get their hands on the time travelers?? but probably especially five and klaus as a) time travel and b) ghosts (the hc def has bodies they would like to stay buried)

five has a pavlovian reaction to anything with 'commission' in the name and hates them on site, probably plays into his age in order to become a ward of UA or something to protect him from the commission a little bit.

(this makes nedzu Five's legal guardian. aizawa has his resignation papers all prepped in a drawer marked 'in case of emergency' but let's be real, if nedzu wants to take over the world aizawa should probably be on the rat-bear's side of things :/)

five: ah, i do recall the inhumane experimentation that we were subjected to

nedzu, who was experimented on: haha same hat! want me to dig up the location of reginald hargreeves's remains so you can spit on them?

klaus: nah no worries we dumped them out in the courtyard unceremoniously like, a while back. how long ago varies for each of us because of time travel!

luther: you said hound dog's office was down the hall and to the right?

on the bright side, Luther probably feels like. way less self conscious about his body, partially bc of his fighting and all that in the 60s but also bc !! now he genuinely doesn't feel like a freak. no one even gives him a second glance. one of the teachers looks like a slab of cement with a face. gang orca looks Like That. there is literally a student with an entire bird head and goth aesthetic. Luther does not stick out at all

allison and shinso bond over having "villainous" voice-based quirks

allison and shinso having worn muzzles at some point in their youth as punishment 🤝

aizawa probably helps train vanya as well with the whole, being able to erase a world ending quirk safely thing he's got going on which makes for a very nice safety net

i don't think vanya would want to be a hero at the end of things though. maybe the assistant teacher in the music class or something?? all vanya wants is to be able to not end the world

i feel like as time goes by, five brings up trying to get home less and less. part of that is because like,,, genuinely what do they have to go back to?? Allison has Claire, but like. I'm 100% sure the first thing she did in the future was try track down Claire's records and found out Claire was like. fine. became an adult, had a family, probably became the ancestor of the first "quirked" kids who officially popped up after light baby. had a good life, died at an old age etc. etc.

they start settling into the bnha world with like, "we can always hop aboard the five express into where the fuck ever" as a plan Z if things go completely pear shaped (again)

i'mma be real, five himself doesn't give a fuck as long as there is a) no apocalypse and b) his family is alive. Like that's it. His bar is so incredibly low and yet his life keeps fucking trying to limbo under it

i just think it would be funny to have like, Five trying to get along with his "peers" and make friends while the siblings do the same but like, in the staff room

also think it would be funny for five to just walk into the staff room and get coffee occasionally.

a teacher: why is a student in here -

Five, sipping coffee: i'm an adult

nedzu like "what kind of guardian would i be if i didn't teach my new son all the tunnels around ua so he can pop out wherever"

five like "hey new dad can i put stashes of supplies all around ua of weapons, money, food, and other assorted things that might be useful if one needed to fight or make a run for it" and nedzu is like "haha just put your list of what supplies you want in your go bags on my desk and i'll critique it later!"

anyway a bnha/tua crossover would be incredibly chaotic but probably very funny

[panicattheattic]

Spooktober Headcanons

Belphegor: Vampire ...

(From Twilight)

(Sorrynotsorry)

You hadn't expected this when you moved to Washington.

You expected to be the awkward new student that nobody ever talked to.

But you were immediately befriended by the most popular guy in school; Diavolo.

Though you could tell the 7 brothers who were his friends didn't quite like you.

Not only that, but their entire friend group was kinda off.

There was something strange about them that you just couldn't place.

At least they were always cordial with you.

Well, except for Belphegor.

He glared at you constantly and whenever he was nice you knew it wasn't genuine.

He was a master manipulator.

Despite seemingly hating you, he would always cajole his way into being your partner in group projects.

He played the nice, sweet, gifted kid who just wanted to help, so well that it was like someone was paying him to do it.

He would have tricked you too if it wasn't for how he acted when you were alone.

Like just now, as you sat on a log in the woods working on your ecology project.

More like watching while Belphie did the whole thing.

Not that you pawned it off on him.

Oh no.

He wouldn't let you help.

He said he'd do a better job anyways and that you shouldn't bother.

You didn't understand why he wanted to be paired with you if he never wanted to share the workload.

Not only that, but clearly he didn't want your company given his refusal to interact with you beyond what was strictly necessary and the occasional disgusted glare.

"Belphegor. Come on, this would go faster if you just let me help."

"No."

"But I can--"

His eyes shined, gold gleaming as he froze you in place with only his stare.

"It will go faster if we get it right the first time. That'll only happen if you let me do everything."

This was it. You were tired of his indirect insults.

You were tired of being forced into working with him because of his uncanny ability to convince everyone that he was the sweetest guy they'll ever meet.

You were tired of him.

You stood up and started to walk away.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Away!"

You didn't want to be near him any longer.

You unfortunately lost your footing momentarily.

Thankfully there was a tree nearby.

Less than thankfully, you cut your palm on the bark when you tried to use the tree to regain your balance.

You cursed under your breath and tried to keep walking.

Until you hear an aggravated groan from behind you.

But before you could even turn to see what the matter was (not that you were going to), you found yourself harshly pinned to the ground.

Belphie's grip on your wrists was nearly painful.

You'd never seen more hateful eyes in your life.

"You have no idea, what you've done... What you do."

You let him continue, honestly curious and a bit afraid to interrupt him.

"Always so careless. Do you have any idea what you're mixed up in? If I wanted to I could wrap my arms around you... Crush you in an instant. Yet you don't realize."

He went on for a while, berating you about being clueless, not noticing the obvious, etc...

You tuned out most of his spiel until you heard one word:

"Blood"

All the dots connected.

"Don't you ever wear perfume?"

"Did you honestly scrape you knee on dirt?"

It kinda all made sense now.

In a messed up kind of way.

"You, all of you... You're vampires."

The mocking, nearly maniacal laugher was all the answer you needed.

"Don't blame us for not warning you, blame yourself for not noticing it sooner."

Belphie explained how he wanted nothing more than to drink your blood.

He confessed to already having come up with a dozen plans on how to kill you.

But he also said he wouldn't.

And you believed him.

He wasn't trying to manipulate you, you could tell.

And you would be lying if you said you never had a hint of a crush on him.

So you did what any sane person would do.

You pushed him the hell off of you and ran the frick away!

You avoided him for weeks after that.

You even skipped a few classes you had with him.

You only approached him again after his twin brother convinced you to give him a chance.

You couldn't say no to Beel, given that he was actually the sweetest guy you knew.

You went (With Beel nearby, you weren't risking it) to see Belphie after school.

He surprised you.

"I'm sorry."

And he meant it.

So you gave him another chance.

And you were glad you did.

He was actually not that bad of a dude.

You hesitantly became friends with him and finally felt comfortable enough to call him by his nickname.

The first time you did he paused.

He would have blushed if he had blood.

Everything was well until the next bump in the road.

You awoke in the middle of the night with a weird feeling.

And there he was.

The cheeky bastard.

Standing in the darkness, watching you.

Watching you sleep.

You were understandably creeped out.

You threw a pillow at him, which he at least had the decency to not dodge, and whisper-yelled at him.

"What the hell, Belphegor?"

He visibly cringed at the sound of his full name.

But you know what his reaction was to all this?

He pouted.

He pouted like a child.

He explained how he liked watching you sleep.

Because he used to love to sleep, but since becoming a vampire he couldn't anymore.

Watching you sleep made him feel at ease.

You honestly felt bad for him.

Though you wanted to slap him.

Had he been doing this for months?!

You'd discuss that later.

For now, he was lucky you were sleepy and couldn't focus much.

You waved him over.

As his eyes widened, you rolled yours.

"It's weirder if you just stand there."

As he hesitantly got under the sheets next to you, you almost laughed.

You'd never seen him be awkward before.

When he was settled you snuggled into his chest and shivered.

He was ice cold.

"I'm sorry."

But you shook your head.

"It feels nice."

After a beat of silence you finally felt him relax and gently wrap his arms around you.

You weren't sure where your relationship with Belphie was going, but if it was going to be romantic, he had a lot of things to figure out first.

~Aqua

[shurisneakers]

shut in [11]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, ptsd, abuse

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: just to clarify, there are 14 chapters and an epilogue!! also you guys are so nice, thank you for letting me know what you think about this <333</p>

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

The wait was taking a toll. It was clawing at you from the inside, and paired with the occasional flare your anxiety gave, everyday was like spending time in an hourglass that was steadily filling up. 

Sam helped; making sure the both of you ate after spending hours planning out and revising every detail, introducing you to the world when you spent too long indoors. 

The constant rap of your finger against the table and pen tucked behind your ear was the position you found yourself in more often than not. Different scenarios listed themselves on a sheet of paper so you could go through the process of elimination, sorting each loophole out with proper backup. 

Going to New York, 3rd floor of 32nd Street, only cash-

“I’m goin’ on a run.” Sam poked his head in from the doorway to the kitchen. “I’ll be back before Ransone calls.”

“What?” you mumble, not paying attention. You scratched out another implausible scenario, leaving you with many more to go. Everything had to be perfect.

“Going out. Be back soon,” he repeated. 

It still took a minute to register but you found yourself shaking your head once it did. “No, don’t.”

“Why?” he straightened up, no longer leaning on the wall. “Something wrong?”

“It’s not safe.” 

“I checked the cameras. No one’s out there,” he sounded confident but you couldn’t shake the feeling of skepticism around the situation that was beginning to return to you. “I’ll be careful.”

“You could be careful by not going.” You shouldn’t have to explain this to him. “It’s not safe.”

“Nothing’s changed yet-”

“They have.” You whip around to look at him. “Things are different now. We don’t know what’s out there.”

You both know that he had already been seen once. Who knew how many people were waiting forty feet away from the house? Risking his life for a jog was ridiculous.

“I can handle a 20 minute run,” he challenged. “I’m not even going that far.”

“You’re being reckless.” You could see the rebellious streak he had warned you of before making an entrance. Though you found his spontaneity endearing, the rashness that accompanied it you weren’t fond of.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is, Sam,” you exclaimed. “We can’t fuck up the plan with you dying.”

He looks at you with his head tilted and annoyance on his face. A wave of tense silence washes over the both of you and only then do you realise it’s the closest thing you've had to an actual argument before.

“Is that really what this is about? The plan?” he questioned, arms crossed over his chest.

You hesitated.

“What else would it be about?” You know he saw it, the brief moment you took before you answered.

“I’m going for a run,” he said decisively. It stung more than it should have. “But I’m not going far. I’ll circle the house.”

That eased it, somewhat. You would prefer if he didn’t at all, but you were at peace with the compromise. A middle ground. 

You nodded, looking away from him. He left soon after, but seeing him run past the window every now and then made you feel better. 

Your mind replayed what he implied. You knew what he was saying, you weren’t completely dense. But you would never let emotions get in the way of work.

It had never worked out well for you before, not while you were still stuck with the organization. Like always, you could feel the familiar ache build in your chest, faces you prayed to forget flashing in your mind. 

You exhaled, forcing yourself to not relive it again. You were thinking an awful lot about it for someone who supposedly didn’t care about it.

Stupid Sam with his stupid cute face and stupid good heart. Fuck him.

____

“Y/N.”

“Ransone.” 

You nodded at Sam who was standing beside you with a glass of water in his hand, leaning his body weight on the table.

“Wilson there with you?”

“No, he isn’t.” Lying to him had become a habit by now, even though you were well acquainted with the consequences of doing so. “What’s the update?”

“We think we found them,” Ransone reported.

“Found who?”

“The people who shot at you.” 

Your body tensed.

“Who is it?” you asked slowly, peering at Sam through the corner of your eye.

“Serpentine,” he said coolly. Sam scoffed, taking a small walk in circles to calm himself down. “Trying to establish themselves at the top again. Went for one of you but we don’t know which, found both of ya instead. Killed Pierce then waited for you to show up.” 

Your eyebrows quirked up. You could see the muscles in Sam’s jaw tighten.

“How’d you find out?” You place your hand on his, urging him to calm down. He visibly softened, closing his eyes and letting out a silent exhale before nodding for you to continue.

“People talk. You know that Y/N,” Ransone sounded bitter.

“Not personally, no,” you mumbled. 

“Well, they do.” The way his tone shifted back to normal like the conversation you just shared didn’t happen almost gave you whiplash. “That’s all on our end. What’s happening there?”

“Nothing. No updates.”

“Y’know, I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet,” Ransone commented. “He tends to get… mouthy.”

“I don’t see him much,” you lied blatantly, ignoring the insult to Sam even though you wanted to retort. 

“That’s a good thing. Can’t have you getting attached now, can we?” 

You barely looked at Sam, only zeroed in on the fact that his thumb was absentmindedly tracing circles onto your skin while he paid attention to what Ransone was saying.

“I’m not.”

“I’m sure you’re getting sick of him,” Ransone chided, pushing this conversation far longer than you wanted him to. “After this I’ll make sure you never have to see him again, don’t worry.”

“Why?” Your eyebrows knitted together. You wondered if you responded too quickly.

“I’ll have him stationed somewhere else. Away from you at all times. Won’t have to interact with him again.” He was doing it again. Ruining any fucking form of a relationship you could have. “You can thank me later.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you bit back. He knew what he was doing. He was drawing it out of you.

“Well I thought you’d be more grateful consideri- oh,” he stopped abruptly. “Unless you’re already attached to him.”

You pulled your hand away from Sam who only looked concerned about where this conversation was heading. The sudden chill that took its place didn’t make you feel any better.

“Oh, Buttercup,” he laughed pitifully. “You know it would never work. Don’t you remember all the others?”

You didn’t say anything. Only folded your arms together and forced yourself not to go down the path he was trying to drag you to. If you hung up now he’d only take it as a confirmation. 

“You two shouldn’t have been friends in the first place. Your lives would have never intersected if this didn’t go wrong.” You hated how he was pointing out things you had overanalyzed time and time again. 

You hesitated for a second, forgetting the fact that you knew he was preying on you on purpose. 

Because these were thought you’d already had. Thoughts of whether you were growing on him only because you were stuck together. Of course if he was forced to co-inhabit a safehouse for this long with anyone he’d like them. 

And as much as you despised to even think it, Ransone was right. How would it even work once you got out? 

It couldn’t. 

And you wouldn’t let yourself even consider the possibility that it might because it was just wishful thinking at best. The line between friendship and something more were merging together so fast, you weren’t even sure they existed anymore. 

“He doesn’t care about you, Y/N. I’m sure he’s charmed his way into making you think you’re important to him, but you’re not,” he sounded sympathetic, almost like he was patronizing you. “You’re just his way out of there, honey.”

Sam opened his mouth, ready to launch into a tirade. You held up a finger to silence him, praying that he wouldn’t do something stupid. You couldn’t lose the only communication you had with Ransone over this.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way-” What a truckload of horseshit. 

“I’ll send you my location,” you broke in, words faltering. “Just have someone come get me.”

“If that’s what you want.” You could tell that he was barely hiding the joy he had gotten out of completely fucking with you.

“Don’t look for me directly. I’ll come to you. Just have someone ready to bring me back.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Sam. You had too much going through your head at the moment, things that had specifically to do with him.

“Are you sure? Someone can be at your doorstep within an hour, you know that.”

“I need time to sort some things out. I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

“As you wish.” You wanted to smack him.

“Bye,” you say shortly, trying to wrap it up.

“Y/N,” he cut in before you could end the conversation. You wait for him to continue, not saying a word. “I’m sorry you had to hear it from me. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

You roll your eyes and hang up, not letting him get another word in. The minute you got a second to breathe, everything he said began crawling its way back into your head. 

“What the hell was that?” Sam fumed.  

“I don’t know.” It was the truth.

“That wasn’t a part of the plan.” You want to tell him to calm down because you had never seen him this infuriated before. 

“I don’t know,” you repeated, feeling more drained by the second. You fucked up by talking to him for so long, you knew it. 

“That sick, abusive piece of shit,” he continued furiously, but you only looked down, tuning out his droning. 

It was fucking humiliating to think that you could have a normal life. It just wasn’t possible. You were in too deep. Staying here with Sam only confused you, made you long for things that weren’t attainable. 

“He’s right,” you utter quietly, effectively shutting him up.

He stared at you incredulously. “What?” 

“He’s right.” You pushed yourself away from where you’re leaning on the table.

“About what?” 

“You know what, Sam.” 

“No, I don’t,” he retorted, “He said a lot of shit so I’m going to need you to specify.” 

“I’m going to take a nap.” Your head was spinning; you didn't know how to tell him. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Don’t run away from this conversation,” he sounded annoyed, rightfully so. “Tell me what he’s right about so we can talk this out.”

“About this,” you relented, spinning around to look at him. “Us.”

“He was just trying to get into your head, Y/N, like he always does,” Sam exclaimed, letting his arms fall beside him.

“This could never work, Sam. We’re friends because we see each other every single day, constantly.” You gestured back and forth between the both of you. “What happens once we get out? When you’re not stuck with me twenty-four-seven?”

He knew what happens to people when they get too close within the organization; he had first hand experience with Riley. They never survived long enough to tell the story themselves. They were ripped away from you, time and time again. It was so tiring to start all over from the beginning, every single time and for nothing. 

You didn’t want it to happen again, not to him. You just wished he’d believe the other anxieties you deemed less important than this, and dropped the topic. Another death is not something you’d be able to handle. 

“We deserve a bit more credit than that, I think,” he said defensively, taking a step toward you. “If our relationship was built solely on proximity then it wouldn’t affect you this much. We’re beyond that.”

“Well, what if we’re not? What if we realise we only tolerated each other because we didn’t have a choice?” you fired back, crossing your arms. 

“Speak for yourself,” he huffed. “I would never let that dictate my choice.”

He sounded so confident, so assured that it wasn’t circumstantial. How could he be so sure?

“I don’t get you,” you whispered. “I can’t figure you out.”

“What don’t you get?” He looked like he was on the verge of pleading. He stopped right in front of you, a temporary barricade between you and the hallway. 

“Why you treat me the way you do.” 

He looks taken aback for a second. “Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you in any-”

“No,” you interrupt him, realising that it didn't sound the way you wanted it to. “Why you’re so… good. To me.”

He doesn’t say anything in return and you can’t even look at him, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

You had tried for so long to figure out what his motives were. Every time he did things that went beyond common courtesy, your gut would scream at you to find a hidden motive. No one was ever this nice to you unless they were put up to it. You’d had enough experience to realise this.

When you couldn’t find anything it only confused you more. You had shoved it away a while ago after he never displayed any other reason. You let yourself believe it for once.

But it was back; the incessant need to know everything. It was gnawing at you along with everything else because Ransone knew exactly what buttons to push. There had to be something. 

“Y/N,” he called out softly. You felt his hands on your shoulders, urging you to look at him. 

“It’s stupid,” you murmur, trying to ignore the fluttering in your heart. 

“It’s not. And I need you to look at me when I say this,” he says slowly, drawing your attention to his face. “I care about you. More than you think I do. You’re not some means to an end. He’s wrong and I need you to believe me on that.”

He waits for it to set in. You get why he wanted you to look at him now. There wasn’t an inkling of deceit in what he was saying. You had seen him lie, seen him try to bluff his way out of a petty situation. It wasn’t this. 

He cared about you because he wanted to. Not because he was forced to; whether it was because you lived together, or because of something else. 

There was so much more you wanted to ask him but nothing got past your throat. It was too heavy. You needed help.

There was barely any distance between the both of you. You could feel his breath, skin tingling from where he was holding you. 

You unconsciously move in, drifting towards the warmth he radiated. Your hands find a place on his sturdy chest, and you let his heartbeat tether you. 

His eyes close when you lean your forehead against his, forcing himself to control his breathing that was threatening to get away from him.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, forehead pressed against his, trying to make your peace with what he said. 

You want to kiss him, much stronger than the last time you had the same thought. Just to see what it’d be like. 

You instead pull away gently. Your hands still rest on his chest. You need time to figure out where your head's at.

“I trust you.” Is all you can say, not tearing your eyes away from him. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, letting it linger there for a second and you revel in the flips your stomach does. “I trust you.”

But for now, maybe you can be content with where you are.

Next part

[disturbedbydesign]

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter Three

If you had a home, it would be Bucharest, even though you despise the place. It was the first place you went when you got free, because you know he’s here somewhere, conducting his evil machinations from the shadows, shielded by layer after layer of vile men across the globe doing his dirty work. There are plenty of men out there deserving of your particular brand of justice, but no one more so than the Viper. Sometimes you think that, if you can just find him and take him out, you might be able to move on—try to make a normal life for yourself, whatever that looks like. You don’t allow yourself to think about what will happen if you finally achieve your life’s goal and it’s still not enough for you.

You remember everything about the day you learned of the Viper’s existence. You were just 7 years old, one of many little girls packed into a shipping container. You had no idea how long you’d been in there or how long you would be in there. It smelled rancid, and there was never a moment of quiet. Most of the girls were screaming or crying, but a few (like you) were silent, just observing. You don’t know who sold you from your orphanage and shipped you off to Dreykov and you never will. What you do know is that you had no family to miss and no one to miss you, so you didn’t understand what the others were so upset about. From the very beginning, you adjusted to life as a Widow almost effortlessly, which is its own form of tragedy.

Others, though, they were stolen away from people who loved them. This seemed a foreign concept to you when you heard about it from the tiny, sobbing girl huddled next to you in the shipping container—the girl who told you about the Viper, the girl who would become your first and only friend until Dreykov took control of all of your minds. Once you were given the serum, your memories were locked up inside your own heads—none of you could have talked about your past lives even if you’d wanted to. Your words were not your own. You didn’t know what was real and what was planted there. Sometimes you still don’t, and nothing terrifies you more than that.

You have no idea how many little girls the Viper funneled to Dreykov over the years, but it was probably a decent amount. His real bread and butter had always been sex trafficking, and he’s still doing it—on an even larger scale if your intel is correct (which, of course, it is). But he won’t be operating for much longer, not now that you’re so close you can almost taste the venom. You were barely 8 years old when you decided you would kill him, and now you have your chance. You are so close, closer than you’ve ever been, but he keeps slithering out of your grasp. And so you’re in Bucharest, again, looking for answers, again. But you have other business, too—almost as important, if not more so.

You head to the safehouse on the outskirts of the city. The building doesn’t look like much on the outside, but you’ve made sure the inside is comfortable enough for the women and children who live there. The matron greets you at the door and you hand her this month’s envelope, which contains enough cash to feed everyone for the next two months, keep the lights and the water on, and some extra to fix the plumbing issues that have been plaguing the building since you bought it.

The building can house about 40 people comfortably—it’s not nearly enough, and you’re determined to create as many safe spaces as you can, but it’ll do for now. For now, you have to select your charges according to a very strict criteria: they are all women and children (and the children of women) who have been bought and sold by the Viper. Some of them escaped on their own; some of them had assistance from you and the very few people you trust in the city. But all of them have suffered, and all of them have information that you need. Individually, it’s not much, but the more women you talk to, the more pieces of the puzzle you have to work with.

Besides for the cash drop, today you’re here to see the newest resident: Irina, a 19-year-old beauty your Bucharest contacts had managed to snatch from one of the sex clubs. Irina was delivered to the Viper at 12, and her life since then has been an endless nightmare that you can’t think about for too long without feeling physically ill. She’s sitting by the window in the living room, cupping a steaming mug of tea, when you approach her. You walk towards her slowly, and when Irina looks over at you, there is recognition in her eyes even though you’ve never met.

“You’re the Widow,” she says.

“Not anymore,” you reply. “But if that’s what you’d like to call me, go ahead. May I sit?” She gestures to the seat opposite her and you settle in for a chat. “I’d like to ask you some questions, Irina. Is that ok?”

“The others told me you’d be coming.” She speaks softly, her voice hoarse from screaming or crying or both. “I know what you’re trying to do. You’ll never catch him, you know.”

“I disagree,” you say, “but I need more information.”

“Alright,” she agrees, “if you think it will help,” and you begin the gentlest of interrogations.

Irina tells you that for the first several years after she was taken, she hadn’t heard anyone mention the Viper. She thinks that a lot of the girls probably knew about him or came directly from him, but no one would talk about it because it was too dangerous or traumatizing (or both). Things were different at her last club, though. When you ask her how many of the girls at Delirium knew about him, she tells you that several of them had passed through him somewhere along their journey. One of them—one far too young to be working there—even admitted that she’d been with him only two months earlier.

Finally, after all this time, you’ve got a clear line from point A to point B. You feel it in your bones that Delirium holds the answers, that if you can just get in and poke around a bit, you’ll be able to find him. You take Irina’s hands in yours and thank her for her help, and then you hear it: heavy footsteps coming down the hall. No woman or child in the building weighs enough to make a sound like that, and no men are allowed on the premises. You know who it is before you see him.

*****

Bucky watches you enter the building from his position on the roof across the street. His contact had told him that there were whispers of a Widow safehouse at this address, though no one would dare set foot within 10 blocks of the place to find out. Bucky doesn’t believe the rumor, though. He knows you work alone, that you pride yourself on it. He assumes this is just one of many places where your targets meet their ends, and he knows enough about Bucharest to know that there are a lot of men in this city who fit your modus operandi.

Still, something is off. It’s not an empty building. There have been women and children coming and going all morning, and nearly all the apartments seem occupied. Why would you choose to do your dirty work in a place with so much activity, with so many innocents around? That seems not only impractical but beneath even you. He’s lost in these thoughts, checking each window with his binoculars, when he settles on a beautiful young girl staring out the window, looking desperately sad. She turns to look at someone he can’t see, and then he sees you emerge from the shadows and take a seat opposite her.

There’s a softness to your face—a gentle kindness—that knocks the wind out of him. Bucky can’t take his eyes off of you, analyzing your body language and facial expressions to try to figure out what the hell is going on. This is the last thing he expected to see, and he tells himself that this woman must be hiring you for a job—except the woman is nothing but a broken child and doesn’t look like someone who would be taking out a hit on somebody (and certainly not someone who could pay for one).

It’s unnerving, watching you this way, and Bucky is no longer sure that what he’s doing is right. There’s something about your interaction with this girl that makes him feel like a voyeur, witnessing an intimate moment that he should not be seeing but that fascinates him nonetheless. Still, he’s here, you’re his mission—albeit one he took upon himself—and he needs to finish it. By this time, Natasha and Steve are almost certainly on their way, and Bucky needs to get to you before they show up. He went rogue and committed to this plan; now he just has to execute it. He’ll deal with the consequences later.

Bucky makes his way across the street and around the back, where children’s toys litter the small yard of weeds and dirt. When he gets to the back door, he notices that it isn’t the usual ancient rusted lock that one finds on the old buildings in this neighborhood; it’s brand new tech. There’s a pretty decent security camera setup around the building, too.

What the hell is this place?

Bucky has two choices: he can rip the door off the hinges, or he can scale the building and climb in the open window on the top floor. You’re going to be homicidally pissed either way, so he might as well not destroy any property—you may be a monster, but the other tenants here look like civilians, and he doesn’t want to sacrifice their security in his quest to bring you in.

Bucky makes it into the building and weaves his way through the hallways. Along the way, he runs into a few women, and each one of them freezes when they see him. They are shocked and deathly afraid—a look he knows far too well—and they scurry back to their apartments and lock the doors. With his hair cut short, baseball cap pulled down, and leather jacket and glove hiding his prosthetic, it doesn’t seem possible that all of these women would immediately recognize him as the Winter Soldier. That’s what it feels like to him, though, and it’s a gut-punch sensation he does not like at all.

When he gets to the sitting room, the girl you are with has the same look of terror, and for a moment, so do you. But you snap back to yourself quickly—having gone from soft to terrified to hostile within a span of about 15 seconds. Before he can react, you stomp towards him, grab him by the jacket, and hiss, “Not here.”

Bucky hears you speak to the girl in Romanian, “Don’t be afraid, Irina. He’s a friend,” although he knows you think him anything but.

The second you get him into the hallway, you’ve got your knife to his throat. Even with your cold blade nicking his skin, Bucky fights the impulse to disarm you. He doesn’t want to fight you. He knows that he’s intruded on something here, though he doesn’t know what, and he actually feels guilty. He could break you in half if he wanted to, but he lets you pin him to the wall—lets you feel like you’re in control.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you growl.

“You know why I’m here,” Bucky replies, but he doesn’t know—not really, not anymore. “What is this place?”

“It’s somewhere safe,” you say, “or it was until you showed up. No boys allowed, Soldat. Time to go.”

You catch him off guard when you flip him around and throw him through the nearest door, and before he can regain his balance, you kick him straight through the window and into the yard two storeys below. The fall is nothing to Bucky, and he knows that you know that, but it certainly made a statement. He looks up at the broken window he’d just crashed through and sees you peering out with a satisfied smile on your face.

Bucky calls up to you, “I just want to talk.”

“Bullshit,” you snap.

“I mean it,” he says, and he actually does. “You can pick the place.”

He watches as you consider his offer, weighing your options—you obviously don’t trust him, but it’s clear that the sanctity of this location is important to you. Now that he’s violated it, you can’t just let him wander off. You agree to meet with him that evening—in public, at a club in Old Town.

“Come alone, Soldat,” you call down to him, “and if you tell anyone about this place, I’ll throw you out a higher window.”

Bucky tries to hide his tiny smile but he knows you see it, just like he sees the little quirk of your lip just before you disappear. He hoists himself off the ground and brushes himself off. When he turns to leave, he sees a little girl holding hands with her mother. He has no idea how long they’ve been standing there, but the girl is pointing and giggling at him.

The little girl asks, “What happened to him, mama?”

“The Widow’s bite,” she replies.

*****

“He’s not going to hurt her, Natasha,” Steve says as he prepares the Quinjet for landing.

“She might not give him a choice,” she replies, strapping herself in. “What the hell was he thinking coming here alone?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says. “There’s something about this girl that’s really gotten under his skin.”

Natasha looks at Steve, asking the question with her eyes she wouldn’t dare say aloud, and he picks up what she’s putting out.

“He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore. All of that programming… it’s gone. You know that. He’s just Bucky now.”

Natasha nods in agreement, but a part of her still has questions—not whether the deprogramming worked, she knows that it did, and she trusts Bucky with her life. No, Natasha’s concern is what is going on inside Bucky’s head. He was doing well, he was adjusting, he was finally ok, but the existence of you seems to have triggered something in him that the words never had. The words made him cold and empty and ready to comply, but you—you make him think, and Natasha knows how dangerous it can be to dwell too much on things you’ve left in the past.

When Steve and Natasha arrive at Bucky’s old apartment, it’s empty, but there are small signs of life—the indent of a head on the pillow on the floor in the corner, an apple core just starting to brown. He’s been there, and recently. Natasha and Steve don’t know who he would still have contact with in Bucharest, so they are left with nothing to go on. Bucky knows how to cover his tracks, and he left them just enough crumbs to get them to Bucharest but not enough that they could find him when they got there.

“He wants us to trust him,” Steve says, “to wait for him to bring her back here.”

“I can’t just sit around waiting for something to happen, Steve. I have a really bad feeling about this.”

“So what do you suggest we do?” Steve asks.

Natasha sighs and looks out the window. “I have no idea,” she replies, and that’s when she sees it: a piece of graffiti spraypainted on the wall of a building down the street—a coiled snake ready to strike.

The memory hits Natasha like a freight train. She knows that symbol. She knows what it means. She knows exactly who you’re looking for and it seems absurd to her now that she hadn’t thought of it before.

“Let me make a call,” she says. “I think I know why she’s here.”

[chili-aux]

So, I was browsing my notes and there's this draft that has been sitting in there for months now. I don't have the strength to continue it anymore cuz this was supposed to be longer but yeah, I finished the rest of the draft cuz I can't sleep. And so, I want to share it with you all ^_^

-----

"Gosh, where is it?! I'm so so doomed!"

As Hange walked into the wide kitchen area to procure food for her rumbling stomach, she stopped upon hearing a low voice, seemingly muttering to herself in front of the food containers. The girl, Sasha Blouse, is urgently rummaging the cabinets, finding food to stop her endless hunger, Hange assumed.

The girl luckily doesn't notice her yet.

With stealthy steps, Hange slowly walked towards Sasha's back. Upon reaching her destination, Hange raised her arms and with a jolt, she put her plan into action, "Boo!"

A scream that seemed like the Female Titan's roar resonated from the frightened brunette. She turned back to look at who had the guts to surprise her, raising her right arm to punch the hell out of them. But she stopped as she saw Hange dying in a fit of laughter, holding her stomach and wiping tears of joy from her eyes.

"Hange-san! Why did you do that?" Retreating her raised arm, she put the balled hands on her chest, both as a salute to the commander in front of her and to feel her shocked heart rocking inside it. With a cry, "You scared me!"

"I-I'm sorry, Sasha! You seemed so tense there, so I just decided to loosen you up a bit. Anyways," Coming down from her high, the commander fixed her skewed glasses, and continued, "you're hungry, aren't you?"

As if on cue, a loud growl emitted from Sasha's hungry tummy. Sasha shyly put her hands on it. They both looked at it for a moment before laughing once again.

"Well, that answers my question. I'm quite hungry, too. Want me to cook for you?" Hange offered.

"You will!?" Sasha is now salivating from the thought. Hange just laughed at this while opening the cabinet to look at the ingredients and decide thereafter what she will cook.

"Yes. Oh and don't worry, if Levi's the clean master, I'm the head of the kitchen."

"Oh really, four eyes?" This time, Sasha isn't just the one who jumped from surprise. Hange immediately closed the opened cabinet and placed her hand on her chest, turning back to the intruder with a comical look on her face.

"Levi!" "Captain!" Hange and Sasha simultaneously blurted out. The man in question just send them his usual stoic expression and walked towards them.

"Did you forget that you're banned from the kitchen, Commander four-eyes? Because if my memory serves me right, you cooked as if you're conducting some experimental shits last time you were here."

Breaking out of her trance, Hange retorted, "For your information, Captain shorty, measurements are necessary in cooking. It just so happens that I'm meticulous in that department."

"And you think that using your lab equipment is appropriate for cooking? There are proper shits for that."

As their bickering continues, Sasha just stood by the kitchen table and watched the heated exchange. This isn't new to her, including the rest of the 104th squad. They had seen them fight and tease each other before, looking as if like they're an old married couple who loves to get on each other’s asses and take the others attention just for them, albeit, unconsciously.

Ever since retaking Wall Maria though, responsibilities of being the new commander of the Survey Corps had changed the once eccentric Titan Scientist. Her joyfulness and enthusiasm about things, trivial or not, decreased considerably with the light slowly fading in her right eye. Her lips once stretched with the widest grin and loudest laugh were now pulled into a tight nipped one, expression being always surrounded with seriousness and tiredness.

The captain, despite displaying a blank expression all the time, grew somewhat overprotective of the Commander. Since Hange's loyal assistant passed away, he puts it to himself in taking the role of being the nagger of the two, however, tamer than Moblit did. He would still knock her up if she's not minding her needs again - quite uniquely delivering his concern via bathing her, cooking food for her, assisting her in meetings, assemblies, and paperwork. He never even once left her side, save for those times she requested him to not go or he has important matters to attend to.

In spite of this gradual change in their Captain's behavior, what Sasha noticed that accentuated the true relationship of her two superiors was the toleration of their quirks, their sneaky sweet gestures, and the respect, trust, and love they had for each other. Observant as ever, she knew that she had just scratched the icetip, as she believes that there is something more that only the two of them are allowed to see.

"Sasha, are you okay dear?" Hange's concerned voice registered in her senses. She blinked then looked at her two superiors who were gazing at her with worry dancing in their eyes.

"Ah y-yeah, I am."

"Well, why don't you two sits now, do you? I'll cook. And I won't accept buts, Commander." The brunettes lightened up, immediately obeying the man's words.

"Who said that I will complain, hmm Mister?" Hange teased while Sasha just snickered beside her.

"Shut up." Levi retorted.

Twenty minutes later, three platefuls of omelettes were placed on the kitchen table. Sasha wasted no time and dug her spoon in. She hummed, delightfully savoring the rich taste.

Hange just watched her, affectionately wishing that after this every blood her comrades shed, these kids, her kids, will live a long life and fulfill the life they imagined.

Her trail of thought was stopped when she felt a light jab on her right.

"Eat up now, will you? Or do you want me to put that spoon on that mouth of yours?" Levi lowly said.

"Don't stress your ass too much, Captain. But, fine."

Sasha once again stared at their interactions while putting the last piece of omelettes in her mouth.

"Y'know," Sasha started, startling her two superiors.

"Know what, Sasha?" Hange asked as she put down her spoon. Levi just waited, though curious, too.

Sasha leisurely took her time cleaning herself from crumbs. Once done, she continued. "You look like a married couple."

Hange and Levi collectively broadened their eyes from surprise. Raging pinkish tint of blush occured thereafter on Hange's face while Levi drank the tea to hide his slipping delight.

Satisfied, Sasha stood up and collected her utensils, putting them on the sink before washing her hands. She can still sense the chaos she had ensued. However, unfortunately for her two superiors, she is still not yet done.

When she finally fixed herself, she saluted to the two, "I'm going to go back to Mikasa now. Please excuse me, sires."

Hange just nodded while trying her best to gather her lost breath. With this, Sasha finally walked her way out of the kitchen.

Then she turned back.

"By the way, thank you for the meal..." Sasha began, "... mom and dad."

Levi blasted out his tea.

[ragingbookdragon]

The Theory Of Everything

Outlaws x Tamaranean!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: So y'all remember how I said that one story sparked the beginning of the Outlaws x Reader? Yeah, I lied and wrote the actual beginning. Enjoy! -Thorne

It was a subtle thing, the slightest shift in her demeanor, and he would have missed it if he hadn’t the years of thorough training in order to recognize such shifts. Her default expression was typically a frown and narrowed eyes, and hardly ever did she crack a smile, even at the most downright hysterical jokes and pranks his family would pull on one another. Which was odd for a Tamaranean considering the fact that most of the ones he’d met were usually overjoyed, especially her sister.

Something had also flashed across her face in that moment he mentioned it and she offhandedly muttered about being conditioned to not show emotion, especially that of joy or kindness during her captive years—it was easily taken advantage of by those that wished to do their worst harms to people. Then, she waved it off, and talked about something she’d read on the internet, Resting-Bitch-Face, she’d called it, then actually laughed, and said it was her normal face, there was no particular negative emotion that caused it, it just was—but if it deterred people from being friendly with her, all the better.

And he’d come to realize that her frown and narrowed gaze didn’t ooze disinterest or irritation like he’d once believed. No, now that he’d noticed the shift in her eyes when she was around him and those she cared for, the softness that entered them, and the split second that her brows unfurrowed, features relaxing ever so slightly before they hardened again, covering up any semblance of relative peace. That was the moment he realized he was in love with her, and hopelessly at that too.

But she wasn’t an easy woman to understand, not by a long-shot, or to be around, and she’d even agree with both of those. Most people, like his older brother and his friends, avoided her like the plague and didn’t interact unless it was necessary, despite the fact that she’d once been a member of the Titans with Kory. Hell, most of the Justice League didn’t want to call in reinforcements if it meant she was coming too, she was that destructive when she fought—but her volatile nature held a lifetime of wrath and a raging need to burn away all remnants of abuse—either in herself or other innocents. And she only got it out when she expended her solar energy on those she deemed her enemies.

She was impertinent with people that wasted her time, and she especially hated when people made noise, hell, even when they breathed loudly it drove her up the wall. Which almost made her kill Roy the first time she’d met him because he wouldn’t stop whistling. She was also typically the reason that Jason and Roy couldn’t bring her along to bars anymore because she was more than happy to break someone’s leg over touching her or muttering explicit comments in her ear.

But what most people didn’t take the time to see was that she was caring too. She didn’t show it because she viewed it as a weakness to be taken from her by an enemy, but it slipped through sometimes. One of the easiest memories to call on of it, was the time they’d saved a group of kids from human traffickers and as they waited for the city police to show up, she made even the youngest child learn how to send a strike that would disorient even someone who was larger than they were. That spot just below your chest is called the solar plexus. Hit it as hard as you can, and your opponent will be winded. Curl your fingers in and open your hand, like so. Strike into their middle with the heel of your palm as hard as you can.

Jason wondered if it was the first time she’d smiled since she came to earth, because when she saw the kids slip into a state of absolute fun as they tried to whack each other, a broad grin stretched across her face. But it gave him a glimpse he hadn’t seen of her—that she was still a living being, capable of strong emotion, and if that smile on her face was any indicator, she was feeling pride and understanding towards the children. He loved her smile, wishing that it would’ve stayed a moment longer.

Unfortunately, being smitten didn’t seem to just apply to Jason because if someone as hard-assed and anal-retentive about feelings as he was, was feeling such a way, he knew a loose, emotionally tethered man like Roy was too, especially when the archer gazed at her with those big evergreen eyes like he was staring at the whole universe compacted into one woman. Jason wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

And if he was being completely honest, he didn’t know how to feel about either of them—he wouldn’t deny there was something more than just friendship between he and Roy, and it wasn’t that strong as steel, forged level of trust you get between watching each other’s back when you’re in the thick of danger—it was deeper than that, but they’d yet to bring it up—that or it just hadn’t come up to where they needed to talk about it. And now that there was another person he wanted…Jason wanted to acknowledge it, but he was so afraid of fucking up probably the greatest thing that happened to him since he came back, and that kept him paralyzed from acting on his feelings. And he was content to keep his mouth shut if it meant avoiding that, even if he had to watch the two people he loved the most get closer.

***

She was typically the first one to wake in the morning. Training with the Warlords of Okaara meant rising before the sun, and while she’d learned to indulge in waiting for the sun to appear in the sky before waking here on earth, old habits died hard, and more often than not, she found herself lying in bed in the early hours of the morn, simply staring at the ceiling until she heard Jason or Roy shuffling around in the kitchen. That being said, it was usually Jason who was up and not Roy, the latter being very lazy and preferring to sleep until practically noon.

Today however, she wasn’t the first to arise, coming to stare at Jason as she shuffled into the kitchen, watching as he tiptoed around the area, either consciously being quiet, or unconsciously falling back on sneaking training. His back was to her, and even if she wasn’t one privy to childish whims, she couldn’t help but creep up on him and wait in his peripheral until he finally noticed her. And when he did, it was downright hilarious.

He jerked with a sharp ‘shit’ and immediately threw out his right elbow to jab at whatever had snuck up on him and she caught it with ease, allowing a smirk to cross her lips before it fell and she murmured, “Peace, Jason. It would be unbecoming to attack a teammate.” She pressed her thumb into the flesh underside his arm and his arm tingled with heat. “Better yet a friend.”

Jason scowled and pulled his arm out her grip. “It’s unbecoming to sneak up on teammates too, (Y/N).”

She merely hummed and flowed around him to the refrigerator. The door creaked on its hinges and he momentarily reminded himself to oil it later, watching as she pulled out the water pitcher.

“You are up rather early,” (Y/N) noted. “I have noticed that you sleep an hour or so later than I.” Her glowing eyes pierced him with a clarity that he wasn’t sure he liked. “Is there something on your mind, Jason?”

He shrugged and turned away, busying himself with pulling out a skillet and a spatula. “Just woke up, is all.” Jason didn’t have to be facing her to know that those eyes were boring into his back—he could feel them.

“Ah, so your body has received the needed recovery.”

Chuckling, he replied, “Something like that.” He felt her shift behind him, then the egg carton appeared beside the spatula on the counter, and he glanced over at her, only to see a curious look in her eye.

“Has anyone ever told you that your eyes glow in the dark?”

Jason blinked—not that he remembered. He unconsciously reached up to touch just below his eye and he murmured, “No…they do?”

(Y/N) lifted a hand and he couldn’t fight the way his heart began to pound in his chest at how soft her fingertips were when they finally touched his skin. She drew her fingers up his cheek and to his eyebrow, tracing it delicately, as if he were made of porcelain and the faintest touch would shatter him into a million shards—not like he wasn’t feeling like that already.

“It is strange, Jason. They are teal in the light, but when there is darkness…they glow a vivid green.”

A memory flashed across his mind, waking up in the neon ooze of the Lazarus Pit and he couldn’t help but shut his eyes, trying to will it away. She placed her palm against his cheek and Jason sighed as the warmth bled into his skin, reminding him of those moments of falling onto a warm pillow.

“What is on your mind, Jason?” she asked, and this time she wasn’t probing to see if he’d tell her—(Y/N) wanted an answer, and a real one at that. He let out a shaky breath as he mulled over the words that played on his tongue. “I can see you are thinking about it. Tell me what is weighing on you and I will do what I can to appease it.”

“I don’t know if it’s that simple, (Y/N),” he replied and he opened his eyes to stare at her. Her expression was unreadable and the fact that he couldn’t decipher her thoughts worried him.

“Simplicity. Complexity. These are only matters of time and understanding, Jason,” she explained and thumbed his cheekbone. “You know that I can do so. Let me help you.”

It was now or never and either he told her here or he told her later when the timing was worse, and he made an even bigger mess. At least here, she could let him down easy and swear to never say a word to Roy about it.

Jason took a deep breath and prepared himself for the worst as he confessed quietly, “I…love you, (Y/N).”

The most extraordinary thing occurred in front of Jason—her jaw went slack, and her eyes went wide like she’d witnessed the most impossible thing. And that had to be the second to worst reaction he could hope for because he’d honestly rather have her flat-out rejection than stunned silence, just staring at each other. And stare they did…for a solid minute before she appeared to find her voice.

“I…was not aware you had affectations for me.” (Y/N) blinked, adding, “Is this a recent discovery?”

He shrugged. “I tried to ignore it…I didn’t want to mess up the dynamic we’ve got going but…”

Jason trailed off and she tipped her head to the side, repeating, “But?”

Meeting her gaze, he said, “But I couldn’t stop feeling for you.” Suddenly he felt like a caged animal, too close, too confined, too transparent in her glowing stare and he pulled from her touch, spinning around to place his hands on the counter so he could gather his thoughts.

“I don’t know what’s between you and Roy, but I know it’s more than sex and I’m not going to come between it.”

“Even if you want to?” she questioned, and he gripped the counter until his knuckles turned a sickly, pale shade. “Don’t you want to be the one at my side?”

“What I want doesn’t matter. I want you both to be happy.”

“At your own expense.”

Jason huffed a mirthless laugh. “I’m used to my expense being unseen and uncared for.” He lowered his head as his heart began to collapse on itself. “I love you, (Y/N) and…and I love Roy too.” Even with all he’d been through, Jason wondered if this was what it was like to have a broken heart. “But I won’t stand in the way.”

She was silent for a long time and Jason fought viciously to keep the tears at bay. He’d just revealed two of the biggest secrets he’d ever had in his entire life—discounting the whole vigilante thing—and he wasn’t sure where that was going to leave him in the morning.

A warm hand touched his knuckles and his head shot up, staring wide and teary eyed at (Y/N) who wore a heart-tugging smile. Finally, she spoke, soft and kind.

“Come with me,” she said, and Jason felt confusion course through him as his brows knitted together.

“What?”

(Y/N) pulled his grip away from the counter as if it were nothing and she tugged at his hand. “Come with me,” she repeated, this time a bit firmer and he had no control over his feet as he silently obeyed, letting her lead him down the long hallway until they stood at her door.

She opened it and pulled him inside her room, closing the door with her free hand. Jason had turned on the lights leading to the kitchen, so he had to blink a few times, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness in her room, but when they did, her room was the last place he wanted to be—mostly because Roy was curled up like a cat in her bed.

He tried to pull away, whispering, “(Y/N), please don’t—”

She shot him a look with those gleaming eyes and his mouth snapped shut, though his apprehension bubbled in his chest the closer she led him to her bed. They reached the edge and she pulled him towards her. He stepped forward, allowing her to maneuver him until his knees touched the edge and she placed her hands on his chest, shoving with enough force that if he wanted to stop himself, he had to try hard. Jason didn’t though and he fell back onto the mattress, momentarily glancing over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t wake Roy; he didn’t, and he looked back at her.

“(Y/N)?”

She pulled the shirt from her body, leaving her in her undergarments and she shoved at his shoulder.

“Lie down,” she commanded calmly, and despite everything in his bones screaming at him to get up and flee, he obeyed, albeit when his back hit the bed, he went still as a wooden beam.

“X’Hal, Jason. Relax.” She slipped into the bed beside him and pulled the covers up over the two of them as she pressed herself into Jason’s side, one leg sliding between his.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening at the moment, but when she reached across him and shoved Roy in the face until he woke up, something started to fall into place.

“Roy,” (Y/N) said and shoved him again, smirking slightly when the archer let out a grunt and cracked an eye open.

“What?” he muttered rather annoyed, glaring into her eyes.

She nodded at the man between them. “Jason is here.”

Roy blinked a few times. “I’m sorry?” he questioned, evidently not understanding it the first time.

(Y/N) grabbed Roy’s arm and hauled him until he collided with Jason and he wasn’t sure if it was himself or Roy who was more flustered at meeting each other’s gaze as she simply repeated, “Jason is here.”

Roy took a moment to fully understand what she was saying. “Jaybird?”

Jason pulled the most awkward smile he’d ever produced. “Roy.”

The archer looked between him and her then asked, “I thought we were going to talk to him together?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “He told me he loved us.”

Both men yelped at the same time, vastly different reactions words, but the feeling of shock was still the same. She was obviously unamused at the long, drawn-out moment and Jason remembered she hated wasting time when she gave him another look. She nodded at Roy and they stared each other down before he sighed and nodded, turning his face to Roy.

“She’s…right, Roy.” He let his fingers brush against the smooth skin of Roy’s wrist as he whispered, “I love you. I love both of you.”

He wasn’t sure what reaction was going to come out of Roy, but when the man sat up in the bed with a face-splitting grin, it was safe to say he was relieved.

Roy took Jason’s face in his hands. “You do?”

Jason nodded. “Yeah.”

The archer glanced at (Y/N) then back to him. “We were going to ask you to be with us later today, but we weren’t sure if you would respond positively or not.”

Jason blinked then turned his attention to (Y/N). “Like…for sex?”

She directed her gaze to the ceiling, and she let out the longest and most tired sigh he’d ever heard her make.

“If we wanted you to have sex with us, we would have asked a long time ago.” (Y/N) sat up slightly and lay against his chest. “No, we want you to be with us, Jason. Romantically.”

His eyes widened. “You want me to be with you two? Like a poly relationship?” Both of them nodded and he turned his head up to the ceiling, staring, unblinkingly.

“Do you think we killed his brain, (Y/N)?” Roy chuckled as he nudged her in the side and she snorted, gently rising until she was in Jason’s line of sight.

“Roy and I have not been seeing each other for a long time Jason, but even if we have not, we have noticed that something is missing, and that something is you.” (Y/N) caressed his cheek with the back of her hand and murmured, “We both share your affections. Greatly and strongly do we share them.”

She smiled and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “We love you, Jason.”

He took a second to gaze between her and Roy, his heart stuck in his throat and when he received the heartwarming smile from Roy, he looked back at her.

“You both really want me to be with you?” he sounded so scared, so ready to have the rug pulled out from underneath him with a horrible, tasteless joke, but (Y/N) merely nodded.

“We do, Jason.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “But if you wish to leave, you may. We will not be upset at your hesitancy or refusal.”

Roy placed a hand on Jason’s clothed chest and added, “We want you, Jason, but if you’re uncomfortable with it, we understand.” He smiled and reassured, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, Jaybird.”

They waited. Patiently. And it took Jason a few moments to remember how to breathe correctly again, but when he did, he nodded silently.

“I want to be here…with both of you,” he whispered and before he could even do a thing, the two of them had him caged between them, their heads resting on his shoulders, arms wrapped tightly around his middle.

But it wasn’t confining, it was comfortable, and it was loving. So loving that Jason’s eyes filled with tears and he shut them tight to avoid crying, but when his body began to shake, (Y/N) and Roy didn’t think twice before shifting and pressing their faces into his neck, showering him with praise and love-filled words.

And Jason fell asleep in the arms of the two people who he loved the most—and loved him as well.

[merakiaes]

Worse Ways To Die - Oscar “Spooky” Diaz

s

Pairing: Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x reader

Requested: By @mrs-spookyd1az​

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: Possessive, cranky Oscar! Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes. Please let me know what you think, I hope that you like it xx

Wordcount: 3724

Summary: Ruby and Jamal can’t keep their eyes off of you at the pool and Oscar has too much fun with it. However, he doesn’t find it as funny when strangers look at you. 

The time Oscar had both dreaded and hoped for his entire life had come; his dad had been released from prison and come back home.

Cesar was, of course, over the moon to finally get to know his dad, but Oscar, being the one who had been first-hand abandoned to raise his younger brother, was furious and hurt. And you… Living with the Diaz brothers permanently, you didn’t really know how to feel.

The atmosphere in the house wasn’t at all what you were used to. It wasn’t playful and loving anymore. It was tense and hostile, and most of all confusing.

In an attempt to cut down the negative feelings you tried your best to be civil with Ray no matter how angry you were about how bad he had hurt Oscar, but still tried to keep him out of the loop as much as you possibly could in order to make things comfortable for your boyfriend.

He had only been home for a few days, and he and Oscar had already had more fights than you could count on two hands.

You tried your best to help resolve things and find a middle ground for them when they just refused to co-operate, but at the end of the day, no matter if you were the long-term girlfriend of Oscar, it wasn’t any of your business so you didn’t pretend like it was by getting yourself mixed up into their conflicts.

The only thing you could do was be there for him, open your arms to him when he needed you and listen to his rants and make sure he knew that his feelings were justified and validated.

He had been a lot less openly loving toward you since Ray’s return, but you knew it was only because he was still trying to figure out what to feel, and you knew it wasn’t because of you. He was tense and irritated against pretty much anyone these days, and you were the only thing keeping him from blowing up.

He wasn’t just angry that he had waltzed back into their lives as if nothing had ever happened, however. More than anything, he was jealous of the way Cesar looked at him, like he was some kind of hero, despite the fact that it was he who had given up in his dreams to raise him.

You really felt his pain when you had to watch him watch them interact. More than anything, you wanted to sit Cesar down and tell him all of the things Oscar had ever done for him and compare them to all of the things Ray hadn’t, but you knew you couldn’t do that.

He needed to figure it out on his own, even if the only way to do so meant he would get his heart crushed like Oscar had all those years ago. It wouldn’t be pretty, but it would be necessary.

Today was one of the few days Cesar wasn’t attached at the hip with his dad.

You and Oscar had been sitting around in the kitchen when Cesar had emerged from his bedroom dressed in a tank and short, with a towel slung over his shoulder, telling you he was heading for the pool.

And in a last-moment decision and desperate attempt to connect with his mano again – although he would never admit it - Oscar had decided that you would go with him. And it was a good idea, as it would mean Oscar could relax some.

So, now here you were, getting out of the car that you had just parked outside the pool.

Cesar was the first one to get out, barely even sparing you a glance before heading off, going ahead to meet up with his friends inside.

While he hurried away, you and Oscar took your time, hands intertwined and swinging slowly between your bodies as you walked toward the entrance at a slow pace, your things packed into a bag that was slung across Oscar’s shoulder.

To avoid having to change inside the locker rooms, you were already dressed in your bikini, having thrown on a simple tank top and a pair on top for the car ride.

Oscar was already dressed too, in his black swimming trunks, a pair of flipflops and a blank t-shirt, so the only thing inside the bag hanging from his shoulder were two towels, your book and sunscreen. You didn’t really need much more for a day at the pool.

A minute later, you were walking through the people inside, heading straight for the spot where Cesar and the others had set up camp.

Jamal and Ruby were sitting in sunchairs, seemingly handing out sandwiches in exchange for money. Jasmine was sitting in the sun and Monse was doing the same, although lying down on a towel, and Cesar was sitting beside her, now only dressed in his shorts.

Cesar wasted no time in raising a hand in a wave, smiling at you as you approached even though you had seen him only two minutes ago. His wave alerted the others of your presence, their eyes averting to you.

“Sup, fools.” Oscar was the first to talk, dropping the bag down on the ground a meter away from them, claiming the spot as yours and barely sparing them a glance as he opened the bag and grabbed the towels, starting to put them down on the ground for you.

While he busied himself with that, you took the time to greet them more properly, smiling at them and raising your hand in a wave. “Hey, guys.”

Jasmine and Monse greeted you from their spots and Cesar smiled, while Jamal and Ruby stared at you with looks that you could only describe as the ones the guys in high school used to give you when they overestimated their game when trying to get in your pants.

It was much cuter when it was Jamal and Ruby, though. They were younger than you and it wasn’t a secret that they both harbored some kind of horny teenage crush on you, something Oscar wasn’t all too fond of.

But you found it adorable, and amusing more than anything.

Jamal puckered his lips out slightly, without a doubt in an attempt to make himself more attractive, while Ruby gave you a confident head-nod, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “Sup, mamita.” The overly cocky boy greeted you, and you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise.

You knew he had the hots for you but that wasn’t at all what you had expected. Still, an amused expression fell upon both yours and Cesar’s faces as you exchanged a glance.

But Oscar didn’t find it half as amusing, looking up from the bag and raising a challenging eyebrow, dropping the bag again and standing back up to his full height. “You trying to move in on my girl, pequeño?”

Ruby and Jamal widen their eyes, share a glance before looking back to your boyfriend and shaking their heads violently.

“No, no, I wouldn’t even think about hitting on your girl, Osca- Mr. Spooky, sir. She’s yours.” Ruby quickly defended himself, and Jamal rapidly nodded his head.

“He would never!” He agreed.

Oscar gave them an amused smirk, nodding his head. “That’s right. She’s mine, and if I see you little putas checking her out-“

“We would never!” Jamal repeated, a feign shocked look on his face and their eyes as big as saucers at this point.

“No!” Ruby joined in. “We don’t even find her attractive!”

Jamal’s head whipped around to his best friend and his hand flew out to slap him on his shoulder as a disapproving sound left his lips.

Oscar’s eyebrows shot up, eyes narrowing into slits and his feet taking him a step closer to the two boys. “Are you calling mi reina ugly?”

Jamal let out a sound resembling a whine, pushing himself back into his chair while Ruby was left to fend for himself. “No!” He quickly denied. “She’s really hot! I mean beautiful, I mean, she’s not our type.” He cleared his throat toward the end, trying to play it cool.

“She’s everyone’s type.” A feign offended look overcame Oscar’s face again, causing the panic to return to Ruby and Jamal’s in an instant.

“I-“

You couldn’t deny the exchange was funny as hell to witness, your boyfriend’s teasing making it hard for you to keep your laughter in. But you managed to hold it back in the end and hit him in the back of his head at the sight of the genuinely terrified looks on their faces, swallowing your laughter.

“Oscar, stop messing with them.” You scolded in a lighthearted manner and he turned to you, giving you a smirk while the two boys were still looking about ready to piss themselves.

They didn’t relax until Oscar turned his back on them, turning his attention elsewhere. 

He grabbed the end of his tank top and pulled it over his head without another word, sitting down on one of the towels, the one closest to the boys.

You followed his example and sat down, still dressed in your clothes, and grabbed the sunscreen from the bag, popping the lid open and nudging your boyfriend’s arm.

“Turn around.” You instructed, causing him to turn his head to look at you.

He spotted the pink bottle in your hand and instantly shook his head, turning his head back forward stubbornly. “No. You’re not putting that shit on me.” He refused. “It smells like flowers.”

Rolling your eyes, you ignored him, pouring some into your palm and rubbing your hands together. “You know you burn easily.” You argued. “Stop being a perra and turn around, or I’m leaving.”

Glancing at you, he scoffed, but didn’t protest any further, turning his back to you. “Puta.” He swore.

In return, you slapped your sunscreen-covered hands onto his back, smirking when he flinched from the cold. “Pendejo.”

“Pineapple.” Came the voice of Jamal from beside Oscar and the two of you, along with everyone else, turned to look at him with raised eyebrows, causing him to look around at you, confused. “What? I thought we were naming things starting with P.”

“Idiot.” Cesar laughed and you just shook your head, starting to rub the sunscreen into the skin of Oscar’s back, shoulders and arms.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but despite the fact that the lotion smelled like an old lady, he enjoyed the feeling of your hands kneading his tense muscles. His eyes closed and his forehead leaned on his arms that were in turn resting on top of his knees.

Once your hands were close to dry and every inch of his upper body had been covered, you pressed a kiss to his neck and turned to his younger brother who was sitting a small distance away with a smile.

“Do you want me to do your back, too?” You asked, the motherly instinct coming automatically at this point. You had, after all, helped care for him ever since you met Oscar.

Cesar smiled and nodded his head. “Sure.” He said and stood up, walking over to where you were sitting.

You scooted back to make room for him in front of you on your towel and smirked at Oscar, who was already looking at you, when his little brother sat down with no protest.

You raised an eyebrow. “You see that?” You asked, squirting some more sunscreen into your palm and repeating the procedure. “Your brother doesn’t complain like a little bitch.”

Oscar shook his head in annoyance, standing back up. “Whatever. I’m hitting the pool. You coming?” He looked down at you, and you shook your head with a smile, not taking his attitude to heart.

“I’ll be there in a bit.” You promised, finishing putting the sunscreen on Cesar and putting the bottle back down into the bag. “I want to lay in the sun for a bit first.”

He nodded his head, leaning down to give you a quick peck to the lips before walking away. 

Cesar stood up too, going back to his spot beside Monse, and you took that as the perfect time to undress, standing up and beginning to unbutton your shorts.

Beside you, Ruby’s hand immediately flew down to his crotch where he adjusted his shorts, his eyes flickering between you and the pool repeatedly. “Oh no, it’s happening.”

Jamal, also trying his hardest to avert his gaze hit his friend upside the head. “Control yourself, be strong!”

But he was fucked too when he glanced back to you only to see you pulling your tank top over your head, your stomach toned as you stretched your arms up, the real goods being revealed. 

“Oh no.” He whimpered, and Jasmine glared at them from her spot.

“You guys, don’t be disrespectful.” She scolded them in a hushed voiced, keeping it low as to not draw your attention where you were now busying yourself with smearing sunscreen over your chest.

The two boys didn’t even seem to hear her, their mouths falling agape and their eyes widening at the sight. 

Cesar watched the scene unfold from his spot, shaking his head with amusement, knowing that his brother would quite literally kill them if he came back right then.

So he took matters into his own hands, deciding to protect his eventually-to-be sister-in-law from the prying eyes of his friends by throwing one of his flipflops at them, causing them to look at him just as you turned your attention back to them.

“Who wants to do my back?” You questioned with a bright smile, holding the bottle up for all to see and being completely oblivious to what had just been happening.

Jamal and Ruby were up on their feet in no time, their hands stretching into the air. “Me!” They spoke simultaneously, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“I’ll do it.” Cesar stood up before they could say anything else, walking over to where you were standing and shoving his friends back into their seats as he passed them.

You thanked him when he took the bottle from you, pulling your hair over your shoulder and holding your arms over your breasts to keep your top in place as Cesar undid the knot at your back and wasted no time in starting to put on the sunscreen.

He was pretty much the only one who could touch you without Oscar throwing a fit, he knew, so even though they would be mad at him for a week for robbing them of the opportunity to touch you, he had just done them a huge favor.

Lifesaving, really. 

Once he finished doing your back, he tied your top back up and you adjusted the front before turning to smile at him. “Gracias.” You thanked him, kissing his cheek, and he nodded with a smile of his own.

He only got the time to make his way back to his original spot before you were approached by some other guy, the stranger waltzing up to you with pure confidence in his step.

Kind as you were, you smiled at him, thinking he was just going to pass by, but instead, he stopped right in front of you, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

The guy raised a hand to scratch his neck, looking at you from through his sunglasses. “I’m sorry if this is extremely forward but I saw you from across the pool and just thought you were so beautiful, I couldn’t stay away. Would it be possible to get your number?”

He flashed a near-flawless smile, but of course, it wasn’t Oscar’s. Now, his smile could make you weak at the knees.

You offered him a sad smile back. “No, I’m sorry. I have a boyfriend.” You answered. “But I’m flattered.”

Letting people down was always hard for you. Not because you were interested or felt bad for them, but because you hated being put in awkward positions. Luckily, this guy didn’t seem to be a creep, but rather a decent human being, which always made things easier.

His face fell. “Oh, damn.” He swore, letting his hand drop from his neck. “Where is he now then? Your boyfriend, I mean.”

“He’s… around.” You told him, not even sure yourself. The place was crowded on this hot day and he could have been anywhere. “And he’s really protective so you should go before he comes back.” You added, knowing that Oscar would make a bigger deal out of it than needed if he came back and found you talking to some other guy.

And just your luck, he chose just this time to return, his form appearing behind the guy and heading straight for you, a glare already resting on his face and his fists clenched at his sides, showing you that he had already caught sight of you.

“Yeah, actually you should go right now.” Jamal agreed with a nervous laugh, looking behind him.

As everyone else’s eyes also found Oscar’s quickly approaching form, the guy you still hadn’t learned the name of turned around too, eyes growing wide with anxiety as he caught sight of the tall and muscular cholo coming straight for him.

“Who’s this?” Oscar wasted no time in getting up in his face as he reached you. “Who are you? Were you talking to my girl? Because we’re gonna have a problem if you were, blanco.”

You hurried to step in between them, the guy taking a step back out of fear. “He was just leaving.” You told him, holding him in place.

The guy nodded his head, agreeing with you and taking another step back. “Yeah, man. I’m sorry.” He turned to you then, offering you a quick nervous smile. “It was nice to meet you.”

Returning his smile, you nodded, fastening your grip on Oscar’s arms as he jerked forward slightly. “It was nice to meet you, too. Bye.”

And with that, he turned around and walked away. 

Oscar’s eyes followed his form all the way until he was out of his line of sight, and once he was gone, he tore himself out of your grip, his body dripping with water.

“Nice to meet you, huh?” He questioned with a glare. “You interested in other guys now?”

You only rolled your eyes, far too used to his jealous behavior. And it was even more understandable now with the anger he was building up with his dad being back. “Calm down. I’m not worried about you having side chicks so you shouldn’t either.”

“Bitch, the only side chicks I’ll ever have is your other personalities.” He fired back.

“Funny.” You glared, not batting an eye at the insult. “Calm down before you do something you regret.”

He glared back, taking a step closer to you and taking you into his arms. “I think I might need some motivation not to kill anyone.” He said, nuzzling his face into your neck.

The glare on your face instantly fell and a chuckle left your lips at the feeling of his beard tickling your skin. “I can’t fuck you if you’re in prison, papi.” You answered, hands coming up to hold on to his upper arms while his roamed your waist, the two of you not caring in the slightest that you were in public.

Ruby and Jamal watched from behind you, now munching on a sandwich each in a desperate attempt to keep their cool, eyes wide as your words reached their ears.

“God, that’s hot.”

Oscar’s face instantly whipped up from your neck, eyes landing on Ruby at the sound of his voice, the two boys jumping in their seats and letting out sounds of surprise.

But you were right behind him, raising one of your hands to grab a hold of his chin and turning his head to look at you with a glare. “What’d I tell you, huh? Leave them alone.” You instructed, feeling his body tense against yours.

You leaned in and pecked his lips chastely, moving your hands to his where they were resting on the small of your back and prying them away, taking them in yours.

“Let’s go for a swim.” You said, and he said nothing, simply letting you drag him away from the younglings.

As you walked away, his hand found its way down to your ass, squeezing the flesh while glaring at Jamal and Ruby over his shoulder.

The two of them watched with wide eyes, unable to tear their eyes away from his no matter how scared they were, and their eyes only widened further when Oscar raised his other hand to his eyes and used his pointer and middle finger to do an ‘I see you’-gesture at them.

Noticing what he was doing, you slapped his chest and forced him to turn back forward, and only then did Ruby and Jamal let out the breaths they had no idea they had been holding until then, the sight causing Cesar to break out into laughter.

They turned to him, both of them sporting a furious glare each. “How can you be laughing right now?!” Ruby exclaimed, eyes struck with fear. “He’s going to kill us!”

Cesar only nodded as his laughter died down to an easy chuckle, his eyebrows raising in agreement. “If you keep looking at (Y/N) like she’s a piece of meat then yeah, probably. And it won’t be painless.”

“Oh, man.” Jamal cried, forcing the entirety of the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, causing the rest of his words to come out muffled. “I’m too young to die.”

For the first time that entire time, Monse, who had been sunbathing peacefully on her towel alongside Jasmine, sat up and removed her sunglasses, looking at them.

“Well, there’s a simple solution.” She deadpanned, holding herself up on her elbows.

Jamal and Ruby turned to her with a mixture of doubt and desperation in their eyes, asking. “What?”

She simply shrugged her shoulders, giving them a sarcastic and annoyed smile. “Just don’t look.” She answered, and with that, put her sunglasses on again and laid back down, leaving the boys to look at Cesar, who simply gave them a shrug and grin in agreement.

They knew it was the only solution, but for two horny teenage boys, keeping their eyes to themselves was easier said than done, and at second thought, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst way to die.

[azucanela]

chapter iv

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

summary: the internet is enamored with the idea of y/n l/n and bakugou katsuki, two renowned pro heroes, dating. the first issue? the pair rarely interacts. the second issue? apparently, they hate each other, not that anyone knows about that bit. of course, after one night of many mistakes, the whole world knows.

warnings: mentions of blood. violence. injuries. cursing. 

word count: 2k

[series masterlist] [wattpad] [ao3]

THIS HAS TO BE A DREAM. Y/N really doesn’t want to be dealing with this right now, this is literally the last thing she wants to be dealing with right now. She has half the mind to just disappear into the shadows using Telen’s quirk, seeing as she hadn’t returned it yet. 

‘Returned’ probably isn’t the best way to put it, after all he can still use his quirk but… she’s never really had a different way to explain it. But, Y/N is capable of using his quirk until she’s returned it to him, meaning his pain is hers and so is his quirk for the time being. Not that it matters right now, because she’s currently staring down Bakugou, who looks just as shocked as she does. 

“What are you doing here?” She finally asks, scowling. 

In response, Bakugou is rolling his eyes, allowing the door to shut behind him. “You don’t own this café,” he grumbles out.

That was actually incorrect, Y/N had bought the set of buildings on this street to make sure that the café wouldn’t go out of business, she was sentimental in that manner Meaning she technically had authorization to kick him out, something Bakugou seems to catch onto as his eyes narrow at her, “of course you do.” 

Y/N scoffs, looking away from him, “only legally. I have too much respect for Rosalyn to tell her what to do with her business.” She waves him off, “they’re getting something from the back, you’ll have to wait.” Y/N finds that she’s wishing she had a little bit less respect for Rosalyn, because maybe then she would have the guts to kick Bakugou out.

Bakugou says nothing, simply eyeing Y/N as he moves to grab a bag of chips from the stand, awkwardly standing by the cash register he waited for them to return. Of course, Y/N had a feeling they wouldn’t be returning anytime soon at this point. She wouldn’t be shocked if Lily had done something to make this happen, all to torture Y/N.

Although Lorelai might consider this the perfect time to apologize, Y/N finds it her personal hell. And she’s fairly sure Bakugou has the same sentiments as she begins to tap her foot rhythmically against the floor. The space is silent aside from that, and Y/N almost wishes a stranger would come in and end her misery.

A sudden pain courses through her, and Y/N’s brows furrow as her mouth gapes open slightly, hand coming to her stomach, though her thoughts are interrupted as Bakugou snaps, “could you quit tapping your damn foot?”

And Y/N does stop, but not because he asked, instead to say, “you can always leave.” There’s a sarcastic smile on her face as she glances at him, preparing to continue tapping her foot despite the throbbing that had appeared in her leg as well. 

If Y/N had to guess, something had happened to Telen. But that wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary in hero work, and given how high profile Hawks’ agency was, they had a healer on call. She had no doubt that whatever injury he’d somehow sustained, he would be fine. And yet, Y/N can’t help the frown that washes over her, a certain fear and anxiety that definitely doesn’t belong to her suddenly drowning her senses. 

Y/N is about to make a phone call when she hears Bakugou, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

She’s about to make some sort of witty comment in response, only to see that he’s looking outside, where the presence of paparazzi has become apparent. Though they hadn’t started their mobs yet, any trained Pro Hero was well aware when they were being followed. Despite attempts to hide, Y/N could easily see that there were several people hidden throughout the area, trying to catch pictures of the famed Y/N L/N and Bakugou Katsuki together.

They were probably hoping the pair would start arguing, maybe even get into a physical fight knowing Bakugou. Though, if that did happen, Y/N was fairly sure Lorelai would have her head. 

That and the fact that the shippers on Twitter were going to love this. But Y/N certainly wasn’t, scoffing as she came to a stand, “did they follow you here?” Her tone is accusatory, she knows that. But if Y/N is honest, she has no shame being upfront about her emotions with Bakugou, not anymore. 

He glares at her once more in response, placing his order down more roughly than necessary, “obviously not. If anything it was you they followed here.”

Y/N comes to a stand, inhaling deeply as she reminds herself that she and Bakugou are currently the stars of the show that is the media. Everyone who's anyone, and anybody that’s a nobody wants to bear witness to their interactions if it means advancing their career. And Y/N has no intent of further damaging her reputation, or giving the media the easy way out.

Though she wouldn’t mind putting an additional dent in Bakugou’s already horrid reputation, there were bigger things than that. And at the end of the day, they were stuck together for the time being, until things died down that is.

So, Y/N finds herself heading over to the counter with her items in hand– discarding them behind the register to make sure that Lily would hold onto them for her— before looking to Bakugou, “we need to leave, now.”

Bakugou is frowning, eyes falling on his order, but he simply nods as he returns his gaze to Y/N, “and how do you suppose we do that?”

While she’s grateful he elected not to argue— probably because he’s well-aware of his own dwindling reputation and wants to salvage whatever he can, like the selfish bastard he is— Y/N finds herself narrowing her eyes at him, simply turning around and gesturing for him to follow her, “come with me.”

“What, we can’t just go out the front door?” 

She’s not shocked by his proposition, though Y/N is also aware that Bakugou isn’t a fool. He may be impulsive at times, and extremely confrontational to a fault, but he was not an idiot. Even if he seemed to be just some annoying brute.

Y/N glances back at Bakugou, looking to him incredulously, “the moment we step outside, we will be bombarded with questions.” A bitter laugh escapes her, “and we both know how you’ll probably respond to that.”

“Oh so this is my fault?” He asks, taking a few steps closer. 

Bringing a hand to her temple, Y/N looks up to him, “we don’t have time for this.” Comes her response, “either you come with me, or I leave without you.”

With that, Y/N turns on her heel, hand shoved into her pocket as she pulls out a set of keys and begins to flip through them in search of the right one. She can feel Bakugou’s eyes on her as she finally finds the right key, the one that leads to the hallway behind the second staff door. Most people don't have access because if you take a wrong turn you’ll end up in the studio apartment of the owners. But, if you continue down the hallway, there’s an exit into the alleyway that Y/N intended to take.

Finally, she pushes the door open. Y/N doesn’t bother to look back as she steps inside the hallway, dimly lit, in fact some of the lights are even flickering. But she can see the bright red ‘EXIT’ sign not too far away. 

Y/N doesn’t hear the door click shut, and with a sigh she turns back to see Bakugou had planted his foot in the door, kicking it open while his hands remained shoved into his pockets. Wordlessly, he stepped inside, and Y/N simply returned her gaze to the exit.

Until another spike of pain coursed through her. Her steps falter, though Y/N manages to catch herself on the wall, hand planted firmly there as she inhales deeply. 

To be fair, the average person would’ve passed out from the pain by now, and Y/N didn’t have her hero suit to help cushion the blows of pain nor was she necessarily prepared for sudden pain— she wasn’t in battle. Though her pain tolerance is high enough that it's manageable.

Bakugou seems to notice, no— he definitely notices. Looking to her pensively as he pauses behind her, Y/N doesn’t want to meet his eyes as she huffs, pushing off the wall. “Let’s go.” 

He says nothing, and Y/N is grateful as they continue down the hall.

It’s a short walk to the actual exit, but Y/N’s head is pounding so she doesn’t really notice anything out of the ordinary until Bakugou’s arm comes to stop her. She bumps into it, frowning as she looks up to him ready to speak in protest, to yell at him for touching her— though there's no skin to skin contact so she doesn’t really have much to worry about yet. 

Until she realizes blood is coming from under the door. Evidently, she had a lot to worry about.

Y/N looks up to Bakugou, offering him a nod that he returns. A silent communication between the pair which brings Bakugou to press his separate hand against the door, brows drawing together before he rapidly pushes the door open and the pair steps out into the alley.

And there lies the body of Pro Hero Telen. Y/N recognizes him instantly, and it makes sense given how badly her body is throbbing with pain. 

Her mouth gapes open, but Y/N is no fool as her back meets Bakugou’s, each of them surveying the area for the hero’s attacker. 

But there’s no one to be found. 

Y/N looks back to Bakugou, who simply nods, prompting Y/N to drop to her knees despite the blood that begins to seep through her clothes. Eyes falling on Telen as a hand comes to his chest. Nobody has ever died while Y/N was using their power, and if Y/N had to guess, Telen was still alive. There was no need for her to check for a pulse, simple as that. 

“He’s alive. Call for backup.”

When Bakugou doesn’t reply, Y/N turns, and she can see the explosions sparking in his palms but there are no enemies nearby. But Y/N recognizes the look on his face, the frustration, the anger. But he’s not angry with anyone other than himself right now. 

“Bakugou.” She repeats, an attempt to pull him out of his thoughts. They don’t have time to be distracted right now. While the attacker clearly isn’t around right now, there was a possibility he’d return. Not that Y/N was too worried, if they had any sense of bloodlust, she’d notice them.

He inhales sharply, simply nodding stiffly once more before pulling out his phone. But all Bakugou can think about is the fact that the Stain Copycat was here, and they’d targeted a member of Hawks’ Agency. The Number 2 Hero. Which meant whoever it was, they were getting bolder, and even worse, two of the best upcoming Pro Heroes were just next door and they hadn’t even noticed.

Even if the new Hero Killer had failed to finish the job, it didn’t matter. This would be a sign to all. A bad one. A message even. It felt as though this copycat was mocking him with every move. 

The only thing that Y/N can think about, is how dark this alley is, how easy it should’ve been for Telen to escape from his attacker. Which can only mean one of two things, the perpetrator had done something to prevent Telen from escaping into the shadows. Or, it was someone he trusted enough that he hadn’t felt the need to. Not until it was too late, that is. 

This was a problem. A big problem.

note: short but eventful chapter? and look at me go, updating on an actual schedule thats a first!

[wonderlandgoblin]

The Arcana Headcanon - Main 6 love languages

Hey, so it’s been a couple years since i’ve stopped writing, but i decided to get back into it. For some random reason, The Arcana game has given me a lot of inspiration for headcannons and imagines, so that’s what I’ll be posting for now.

This one is about the five love languages. 

If you don’t know what that is, I’ll explain... there is a study that says people show and receive love in 5 different ways: touching, acts of service, words of affirmation, quality time and gifts. 

So, without further ado, this is how i imagine the main six receive and express love.

Love languages

Asra

Mostly shows love through quality time, words of affirmation and touch

He just loves spending time with you, even if you’re just laying in bed together, too lazy to get up.

But mostly he enjoys discovering new things with you, be it a city you’ve never been to before, or the new restaurant that opened a few blocks from your shop.

Nevertheless, he feels like that’s not quite enough to show just how much he loves you, so of course he will take any chance he gets to tell you exactly that and a few hundred other things about how perfectly incredible you are.

When it comes to touching, if it were up to him, he wouldn’t let you out of his arms for a single second of the day, however, when you came back to life not remembering who he was, Asra had to start containing his desire to hold you all of the time, so now he tends to hesitate on starting contact with you.

Because of that, you’re almost always the one to start any form of physical contact (even if he asks for it, he’ll rarely ever start it).

Therefore, he needs to be touched in order to feel loved (he will die without your cuddles), so as long as you remember to hug him often, he’ll be head over heels with you for the rest of his life.

Also on the touching note: playing with his hair drives him absolutely crazy!

Nadia

She obviously shows her love by showering you with gifts all the time

However, touch is something very important for her, so she will always find a way to touch you.

It can be by holding your hand, playing with your hair, touching your shoulder, kissing, literally anything as long as she can feel your presence.

In order for her to feel loved, however, she has to feel like you really care about her and that you’d go through heaven and hell for her, so acts of service is the way to go.

Secondly, she loves words of affirmation.

She knows she is an absolute goddess, but every once in a while, she needs to be reminded, and she’ll love you even more for making sure she never forgets who she really is.

Julian

This man needs to be touching you 24/7. If he spends more than five seconds without kissing or hugging you, he might combust.

He’s also always complementing you (or as he says it: “simply stating facts”).

Unlike all the others, he likes to be loved the same way he loves, so every time you take the initiative of touching him, he absolutely melts.

And every time you compliment him, on literally anything, he starts crying on the inside (sometimes on the outside too).

Muriel

He’s terrible with words, is scared of touching you, doesn’t know how to give gifts and he’s not all that inclined towards social interaction… therefore, he shows his love through acts of service.

He may have a hard time telling you how he feels, but he will most certainly show it.

It takes you sometime to understand what actually works with Muriel, because not even he knows, but eventually it becomes clear that touch is quite important to him.

He’s not that used to people touching him, so even just holding hands is the newest and most incredible feeling in the world for him. The first time you cuddled was the night he slept the longest in his entire life (Asra was worried when he got to the hut at noon, and Muriel was still asleep in your arms).

He also loves getting gifts (although he will never admit to it).

He doesn’t care much for fancy things, but every time you bring him thoughtful things like protective charms, or a pretty rock you found, or a new teapot because you realized his was getting old and you wanted to save him a trip to the market, or a little stuffed wolf that reminded you of Inanna; those kind of gifts pretty much break him every time. He can never believe you like him so much that so many random things you see remind you of him.

He treasures all your gifts with his life!

Portia (haven’t started her route yet, so sorry if these seem too ooc)

Quality time and acts of service are her main ways of showing she loves you, although she does love touching you.

She mostly doesn’t care what you do together, what matters the most to her is that you are together.

From helping her in her garden, to cooking together, going out to the rowdy raven, or just walking around town, Portia will make sure that every second you spend together feels like an adventure.

She’ll also protect you from anything and anyone that tries to hurt you (she would even go hand to hand against Muriel if she had to, although it would never be necessary). She’ll always make sure you’re safe and will do everything in her power to always keep you smiling.

You don’t need much to show Portia you love her. Since she’s so busy most of the time in the palace, you don’t have a lot of time alone, so you gotta make those moments count by being 100% present with her.

Visiting her at work every once in a while, and bringing her food, trinkets from your shop, or anything she likes also goes a long way.

Lucio

If this man loves you, you can be sure the entire world will know it.

He will shower you with gifts (whether you like them or not, although he will make an effort to give you things you like), and the finest things in life.

He’ll never miss a chance of showing you off, or telling you and everyone he meets, how amazing and beautiful you are.

On how he likes to be treated, he will make it crystal clear that cuddles and constant hugging are a demand. Otherwise, you’ll have a sulking Lucio following you around whining about how you don’t love him anymore.

Aside from that, this man loves a party, so as long as you give him a good time while you’re together, he won’t leave your side for a single second.

Lastly, he loves getting gifts from you (shocker, right?). Don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t like when you buy him things, because he could’ve done that himself and he has a lot more means to do it. However, if you make something for him, his reaction will be entirely different.

The first time you make him something, he doesn’t quite understand why you would lose your time on making something just for him. Only when you assured him you didn’t want anything in return and that you only did it to make him happy, does he realize that no one’s ever made anything for him before. He probably started crying on the spot, and pulled you into the tightest hug he’s ever given you.

After that, he carried his gift anywhere he went, and god forbid anyone tried to touch it.

Now, he has a shelf in his bedroom dedicated entirely to the gifts you give him.

[patt-writes-stuff]

Pink (Hawks x gn!Reader)

Pairing: Hawks/Takami Keigo x gn! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: cursing but that’s about it!

Genre: Fluff, slight angst, Romantic/Relationship

Tags/Aus: boss x secretary, pining, slow burn, slight cannon divergence probably

Summary: 5 times your boss, Hawks, made you flustered + the one time you made him flustered

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!! This is my fic for the Attack on Academia server’s Secret Santa Event!! This is for @sugacookiies​ !! and I really hope you like it!!! 

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 1

“Thank you so much for coming today, we’ll be sure to get back to you soon,” the lady who had been interviewing you said, smiling at you. You bowed your head slightly, thanking her for her time with a small smile on your face.

After exiting the room and closing the door, you took a deep breath, as if to calm your still very present nerves. You had been up for a job as a secretary at pro hero Hawk’s agency, something you were more than thrilled about.  

Growing up, you’d always been immensely intrigued with the world of pro heroes. Your room had been decked out in hero figurines and posters, the whole nine yards. Hell, even your comforter was hero themed at a certain point in time. It had just always fascinated you how these people would use their quirks for the good of humanity and to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.

Sadly, your quirk, MoodLocks, wasn’t very useful in crime-fighting. All it did was allow your hair to change colors depending on your mood. It was pretty, of course, but you had a hard time controlling it and it could never help you beat an opponent. If anything, it would give the villain an insight into your thoughts and put you at a clear disadvantage.

So, as time passed, your childish fantasies of becoming a hero did as well. It didn’t bother you anymore, as you were more than happy with the career you’d chosen. Your love of heroes was still very much present, hence why you were so nervous about today’s interview. If you got the job, not only would the pay be incredible, but you’d also get the chance to help an actual hero. Maybe you’d even get the chance to meet more of them!

You were pretty sure you had made a fairly good impression so hopefully, you would indeed get a call from the agency soon.

Walking out of the agency, you couldn’t help but let out a yawn. You’d stayed up far too late last night googling commonly asked job interview questions so you wanted nothing more than to get back to your apartment and catch up on some much-needed rest. Maybe you and your roommate could order in.

“Oh God, I am so sorry that was my fault. I just finished this super stressful interview and I’m super tired so I was not watching where I was going-” your babbling came to a sudden halt as you looked up, brain losing all ability to form coherent thoughts.

Right before your very eyes was the man who’s “a bit too fast” in all his red-winged glory. You’d seen him in interviews online, of course, you kept up with most pro hero interviews, so you knew he was handsome. However, the cameras most certainly did not do the man justice. His yellow glasses were resting on his forehead, pushing his messy (and very soft looking) blond hair back. His gold eyes seemed to be looking right into your soul, calculating yet calm.

God, you wished you could make your eyeliner look remotely similar to his.

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you realized that you’d been staring for what you could only describe as an uncomfortably long amount of time.

Before you could embarrass yourself further, the winged hero placed a gloved hand on your shoulder. He looked at the top of your head, an intrigued expression adorning his face before morphing into an easy smile, he spoke, “‘S no problem, chickadee. Good luck with your interview.”

And just like that, the hero went along his merry way.

Curious what he’d been staring at, not to mention the nickname, you looked up at your hair, which had previously been a bright shade of orange due to being anxious, was now very pink. You blanched at the thought of having lost control of your quirk so easily, in front of a cute guy pro hero who might be your future boss no less.

‘Well,’ you thought, ‘at least I can say I met Japan’s #2 hero even if I don’t get this job.’

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 2

Much to your surprise, and pleasure, you had indeed received a call from Hawks’ agency about a week later. After several follow up interviews (much more than you were expecting, honestly, but you suppose it made since he’s such a high ranking hero) a very thorough background check, you had gotten the job.

When you had gotten the job, you had been hoping that the blond would have forgotten your first encounter, since you had literally malfunctioned right before his very eyes. The chances of him forgetting weren’t exactly small, after all. You were sure he met plenty of people every day and your interaction had been incredibly brief.

A month into your job as his secretary, you seemed to be in the clear. Sure, he knew about your quirk, since he was your employer and the ever-changing array of colors in your hair aren’t exactly subtle, but seeing as he hadn’t mentioned it so he’d probably forgotten.

You’d stayed at the agency long after your shift was overdue to a couple of low-ranking villains attempting to rob a bank. It had been an easy win for Hawks, he was in and out of there long before his sidekicks had even gotten there, but the villains had caused a lot of unnecessary damage to the building, so there was a ridiculous amount of paperwork.

You couldn’t wait to get home and change out of your stuffy work clothes and into the comfiest pair of PJs you owned. Your roommate, always a sweetheart, had been kind enough to save you some leftovers from her dinner so all you had to do was warm it up, eat, shower, and crash on your bed.

Whilst you were getting ready to head home, your boss had decided that it was only fair to walk you home, seeing as it was late. You had insisted that he didn’t need to do that, even showing him the can of pepper spray you carried around your person at all times. Still, he’d insisted, and who were you to say no?

The winged hero had originally offered to fly you home, but you’d profusely told him it wasn’t necessary. So, the two of you ended up taking the train. The two of you got a couple of weird stares from your fellow passengers, seeing as the flying hero was taking a train instead of y’know… flying and his wings took a significantly large part of the seat the two of you were occupying (it seemed uncomfortable but he didn’t mention it). Hawks seemed to either not notice or not care, opting instead to have an animated conversation with you about the best fried chicken places in Fukuoka. It was mostly him talking, but you’d add to the conversation every once in a while, and sometimes people would interrupt and ask for an autograph, which he’d sign with a carefree smile on his face.

“You don’t have to walk me home, sir,” you told him after the two of you had exited the station closest to your apartment.

“What kind of hero would I be if I let a civilian walk alone across the dark streets of Japan?” He asked you, tone light and teasing. “Also, didn’t I tell you to call me Hawks? Sir makes me feel old.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at his words, turning to the left towards your apartment. You’d get there soon and a small part of you wanted to keep the banter going for as long as possible.

“I don’t think that would be very professional of me, sir,” you said playfully. He laughed and the two of you settled into a comfortable silence while you walked.

After a moment, he shoved his hands into his coat pockets and he spoke up, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, how exactly does your quirk work?”

“Oh well, y’know, it changes color depending on my mood, so red means I’m angry, blue can mean I’m sad or calm, pink means I’m flustered or embarrassed, purple means I’m scared, etc.”

“So your hair went pink the first time we met because you were starstruck by my devilishly good looks?” He asked in a faux haughty tone. “Don’t worry, I don’t blame you.”

The asshole remembered your first encounter.

Your hair turned pink and you celebrated inwardly as you approached your apartment. As you opened the glass door to the complex, Hawks laughed at your hurry.

“Good night,” you stated, tone indignant at his laughter, as you made your way inside.”

“‘Night, Pinky.”

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 3

Working for the red-winged hero himself was both everything you were expecting it to be and completely the opposite of it at the same time.

The hours were crazy, something you were anticipating considering villain activity had been increasing and your boss was a busy public figure. What you were certainly not anticipating, however, was that Hawks would be such a teasing little shit.

Not only had the man remembered your first encounter, but after you had explained your quirk to him (he’d asked you about it despite it being in the agency’s records since you had applied for the position, you guessed he’d done it as a way to break the ice) he’d taken it upon himself to fluster you to get your hair to go that embarrassingly bright shade of pink.

He’d call you all sorts of nicknames ranging from pinky to songbird (your favorite was by far Pinky since it feels so personal. Not that you’d ever tell him that). He’d also gotten into the habit of trying out all sorts of ridiculous pick up lines on you. The greater majority of them were bird-related, of course. Those never really got you but they did make you laugh.

The one that probably got you the most was when he’d bring you your favorite drink or lunch from a place you’d mentioned you’d like offhandedly, saying he had just been “flying by” and remembered your conversation.

You didn’t mind his flirtatious banter in the slightest. He never crossed any boundaries and kept things professional when it came to business. It was pretty fun to see what nicknames or pickup lines he had up his sleeves.

The only downside was that you’d begun to develop a slight crush on the red-winged hero. It would never lead to anything, you were well aware of that. He was not only a famous hero who was constantly under public scrutiny, but he was also your boss.

It can’t hurt to dream though.

“What’s got you so distracted?” An all too familiar broke your very him-centric train of thought. You looked up from the paperwork you’d been blankly staring at. You’d been trying to multitask between eating and doing paperwork so you wouldn’t have to take any work home. After much insistence from your roommate, who was well aware of your crush on Your boss (she’d teasingly gifted you a pair of Hawks themed PJs on your birthday), you had finally given in and agreed to let her set you up on a date with a former schoolmate of hers.

“Nothing, just thinking about a date I have tonight,” you lied, looking up from your desk to meet those lovely honey-colored eyes you spent more hours than you’d care to admit thinking about. You scanned his body language, trying to gauge his reaction. Not that you could ever get a read on him. More often than not, it was impossible to get a read on him under the visage of carefree indifference he was so well known for. In the almost half a year you’d known him you’d never once seen the hero lose his cool or show any emotion other than the ones he wanted to portray. It was kind of unfair seeing as he could get a picture-perfect look into your thoughts and emotions just by looking at the color of your hair and here you were, left grasping at straws.

He seemed to have no outward reaction other than his shoulders tensing and his eyebrows scrunching up a bit in mild distaste. It was gone so fast you were sure you must have just imagined it.

“Pinky’s got themselves a date?” he said after a moment, a slightly forced teasing tilt to his voice. He crossed his hands and placed them on the taller part of your desk and leaned his weight on them, staring down at you with a cheeky grin.

“I guess so,” you said, fiddling with your chopsticks as you continued, “I’m kind of nervous though. I haven’t got on any dates since I started working here, I’m a little rusty.”

“How come you haven’t gone on any dates?” he asked, staring at you with an intensity you weren’t quite expecting from him. “Had a special someone in mind?”

The roots of your hair went white in surprise before you managed to school them into going back to your natural hair color. It was brief but he had surely noticed.

“I’d go on lots of dates if my boss gave me more days off,” you said, pushing past the momentary lull in the conversation and giving him a pointed look.

He let out a laugh, a real and genuine one, unlike the ones he’d let out during interviews or out in public. The thought made your face heat up. It made you feel special. Even if he didn’t see you in the same way you saw him, he at least trusted you enough to be real around you. That was enough for you.

“You’ve got nothing to be nervous about, kid, any person would be lucky to land a date with someone as beautiful as you,” He stated, looking at you with a certain emotion behind his gaze that you couldn’t quite decipher. “If your date happens to go south, just give me a call and I’ll pick you up. After all, what kind of hero would I be if I didn’t look out for my secretary?”

You looked at his retreating form, your hair as pink as bubble gum and heart threatening to beat out of your rib cage. He’d just called you beautiful. He’d also said that anyone would be lucky to date you. Did that include him? Did he like you?

“Hey Hawks,” you called out, surprising both him and yourself. Despite him telling you to just call him Hawks instead of ‘sir’, you’d stuck to calling him sir for the sake of professionality. “Thanks for the offer.”

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 4

You let out a tired sigh as you watched the number of floors go up on the tiny screen atop the doors of the elevator you were currently in.

When you had signed your contract to work at Hawks’ agency, you were aware that you would need to be accessible 24/7, however, you thought that if he did contact you at an ungodly hour, it’d be for something important, perhaps something along the lines of a press scandal or a massive villain attack that you’d need to start filing paperwork promptly so that the agency could report the casualties or cost of the destruction. You had highly doubted Hawks, Japan’s literal #2 hero would call his secretary at 3:00 a.m. in the goddamn morning and order them to bring him a bucket of fried chicken from fucking KFC.

You clearly hadn’t known the man at the time, you thought as you stared at the red and white bucket in your arms.

The elevator dinged, alerting you that you had arrived at your destination. Making your way through the hallway, you tried to figure out why your boss would be so cruel as to make you get him fast food when he had two perfectly capable wings that could take him to and from the nearest KFC faster than you ever could. You bet it’d even be warmer.

You’d need to download UberEats on his phone.

Before your fist could make contact with the door, it was swung open, surprising your half-asleep brain. Before your eyes there was a very awake looking Hawks, his eyes zeroed in on the bucket you were holding

“Hey there, chickadee,” he said in a teasing tone, resting his arm on the door frame in a very attractive manner. God, if you were just a bit more coherent and a little less sleep-deprived, your hair would be the most embarrassingly bright pink color imaginable.

Thankfully, you weren’t and you could hear your bed calling your name from across the city, so without bothering to answer, you shoved the bucket of chicken into his arms before turning around to speed your way back to your at this point cold bed.

Before you could get very far, however, Hawks had grabbed your wrist with your free hand.

“You’re not leaving already, are you?” He asked you, letting go of your wrist.

“It’s 3 in the goddamn morning, Hawks,” was your deadpan answer.

“C’mon, you wouldn’t let your poor boss eat all alone would you,” you could tell his tone was meant to be light and playful but it was lacking his usual flare.

Your concern for the overgrown pigeon won out, and with a defeated sigh, you walked into his apartment, Hawks trailing behind you, visibly pleased that you stayed.

Despite all your time working for Hawks, you’d never actually been inside of his apartment. You had come here several times before to drop off documents he needed to sign or a new schedule (because the Hero Commission apparently couldn’t send emails directly to him) but you had always left the things at his building's front desk.

Hawks’ apartment was… emptier than you had expected it to be. It was nice, the furniture was obviously high quality, not that it was surprising considering he was a high ranking hero, but it lacked a personal touch. It had no pictures or knick-knacks in sight. It felt more like a house instead of an actual home.

“So, how’d your date go?” Hawks inquired once the two of you settled in his living room, him on the couch and you in the armchair next to it. He picked up a piece of chicken, offering it to you. However, it was far too early to even think about consuming food, so you politely declined.

“It was fine. He was nice,” you answered.

To be honest the date had gone well. He’d been nice, a complete gentleman. He’d taken you to a nice restaurant, he was great in conversation, he’d even walked you home but at the end of the night, the two of you had agreed that there was just no chemistry between the two of you whatsoever. You had decided to just stay friends.

“There won’t be a second one, though,” you added after a beat of silence.

“Good,” your eyes widened at his words and suddenly you had an epiphany.

Hawks had been jealous. He was jealous because he liked you. That’s why he had asked you to come here.

Before you could voice your thoughts, he spoke again, a sly smirk on his face, “By the way, I love your pajamas. I wasn’t aware you were such a fan.”

Your hair turned pink, as it often did whenever Hawks was around when you looked down at your clothes. In your haste to get Hawks his food so you could go back to bed, you had forgone changing clothes. You hadn’t realized you were wearing the Hawks themed PJs your roommate had gotten you as a gag gift. They were mustard-colored with lots of cute red feathers and tiny Hawks chibi heads scattered around the fabric.

He would never let you live this down.

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 5

Following the KFC event, the two of you hadn’t spoken about the situation further. At this point, you were well aware of his feelings for you, and you hadn’t exactly been subtle about liking him. The two of you just hadn’t spoken about it. You weren’t official but there was an unspoken rule that neither of you would go on dates with other people.

You were fine with it. Really, you were.

Except that you were definitely not okay with it and you were very much upset that he had just answered that he was single when the lady that had interviewed him had asked him if he was seeing anyone.

Rationally, you understood why he said no. You weren’t official and saying yes would just throw the media into a frenzy while they speculated who he was seeing. You remember how crazy everyone went a couple of months ago when pictures of Mirko and Hawks in their street clothes hanging out started circulating on Twitter. They were trending for weeks, and you had had to answer call after call, explaining that no, they are not dating and no, they don’t have time to go on the 8:00 a.m. news to answer questions about what it was like to date as pro heroes.

On the other hand, you were tired of dancing around each other. You were aware that dating a pro hero would come with hectic schedules and even some danger, but you didn’t care.

“So I was thinking you could come over and we can watch that hero documentary you told me to watch- hey are you mad at me?” Hawks asked, brows furrowed as in confusion.

“No, I’m not angry at you,” you answered, putting your stuff away and heading to the agency’s doors. You were more than ready to go back to your apartment and there was a pint of your favorite ice cream waiting for you in the freezer with your name on it.

“You totally are,” he scoffed, following after you.

“No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are.” Your overgrown pigeon of a boss insisted, mimicking your tone, “If you’re not angry then why is your hair red?”

With a sigh, you spoke, failing to hide the snarky tone to your voice “So what if I am angry? Why do you care? It’s not like we’re dating or anything.” You walked out onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, that’s what you're upset about?” He asked, realization dawning upon his features. When you didn’t answer he kept talking, “You of all people know why I didn’t say anything.”

“I know. It’s just- nothing, never mind. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” You told him, looking away with a defeated sigh.

You were about to walk away before he stopped you by placing his glove cladded hand  

“At least let me take you home,” it wasn’t much of a question, but you nodded anyways.

All of a sudden, you let out a shrill scream when he picked you up bridal style, hands instinctively clasping on to his coat to assure you wouldn’t fall.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you home,” he explained as if it were obvious. Before you had a chance to argue he set off into the sky.

You couldn’t hear anything but the wind in your ears and his heartbeat, but you finally understood why he loved flying so much. Exhilarating was the only word you could use to describe it. And cold. It was also really cold. You understood why he walked around with such a heavy coat now. You snuggled more into him, trying to get some more warmth, which caused Hawks to tighten his hold on you. The affectionate gesture alone had your hair going a shade of pink.

You got to your apartment building much faster than you ever would by taking the train, something that you regretted a bit since it meant he’d let go of you.

“Look, Hawks,” you started, “maybe we should-“

“Keigo,” he said, effectively cutting you off,

“W-what?” You spluttered, caught off guard.

“I want you to call me Keigo,” he said with a sense of finality, looking into your eyes with an emotion you couldn’t quite read, or at least one that you were just choosing to ignore. It’d just make what you were about to suggest harder.

“Look, Hawks,” you started, opening the door that led to the stairs, “I really like you, hell, maybe even more than that, and I want to be with you but I don’t want to be whatever we are right now forever.”

Ignoring the way his wings physically dropped at your words, you closed the door behind you and headed to your apartment.

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸

Event No. 1

Once you got home, you immediately stripped out of your work clothes and into your Hawks-themed pajamas (because they're the comfiest, not because they remind you of him, obviously) and you’d taken out your ice cream and went to town on it. Your roommate had noticed the dark blue that had taken over your hair but you’d brushed her off, saying it was nothing to worry about. She’d been doubtful, but she had a night shift so she left, but not before making you promise to call her if you needed to.

You’d spent the rest of the evening eating your ice cream and watching tv before deciding to get some sleep so you would feel at least a little less sorry for yourself tomorrow.

You were currently in your room, scrolling through your phone on your bed before calling it a day when you started to hear a tapping sound. You’d ruled it out to be some tree branch knocking against your window due to the wind. However, the longer you ignored it the more incessant it became.

You nearly fell out of your bed when you realized it was Hawks, your boss, the #2 pro hero of Japan, tapping on your window while squatting on your fire escape.

You got up, heading towards your window and unlocking it before pushing it up.  You helped him in before sitting down on the bed and motioning for him to do the same. An awkward silence filled the air, neither of you was quite sure of what you should say.

“Hawks, what are-“ you started before being cut off by him.

“Look, Pinky, I love you so much it scares the shit out of me,” he declared. Your hair went the brightest shade of pink it had ever been at his words.

He played with the embroidered design of the throw blanket you kept in your bed. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the red-winged hero so vulnerable in all your time knowing him.

“But there’s a lot of crap that comes with my job and I could never forgive myself if I brought you into it and you got hurt. So-“ before he could finish speaking, you grabbed onto his coat’s collar with both of your hands and crashed your lips against his.

You’d waited almost an entire year for this. One thing was for certain, it was well worth the wait. You loved every single thing about him. And he loved you. That was all you needed.

After a beat, you pulled away, choosing instead to cup his cheek in an adoring manner. The two of you looked at each other with nothing short of pure unadulterated adoration.

“I love you Keigo,” you spoke his name for the first time, “as long as you’re by my side I don’t care about what happens.”

His reaction was, for lack of a better word, cute. His honey eyes were wide in shock, his face as red as his wings, and his aforementioned wings were puffed up in shock. Now you understood why he loved teasing you so much.

“So, do you wanna watch the documentary?” You asked him, walking out of your room and into the living room with a victorious smirk.

~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸~🌸