#i spent more time than I’d like to admit to respond to specific parts or finding like…the exact right pic to express my feelings for u

[theworld-accordingtocasey]

Too much of a bnf to at least “like” the post you asked for feedback on, and got a whole ass essay about the chapter? ok then, imma snatch my shit right back

[sky-drgn]

Dance With Me

Clavis Lelouch x reader Pronouns: None, reader described as wearing a dress Genre: Fluff Warnings: Spoilers for Clavis's 7th wonder Word Count: 1,341 Prompt: 8 Rainy Days Part of @aquagirl1978 and @violettduchess Spring Showers Spring Flowers challenge! Thank you so much for hosting the event! This was really fun, despite Clavis giving me writers block multiple times LOL Edited~ Still could be some grammar/spelling mistakes!

As morning came, the sun did not. The clouds from the rain that fell during the night lingered in the sky. The heavy rain that fell while the castle slept left the gardens soaked. The scent of rain-soaked roses would be left lingering all day, longer if it decides to rain again.

Prince Clavis hated the smell of rain-soaked roses, hated seeing them. The memories the scent brought back were never fun ones to remember so clearly. Still, he put on his smile and went about his day.

As much as he tried, Prince Claivs couldn't fool everyone with this smile. Prince Chevalier, who knew exactly why, who had been there through it all; Cyran who had been told, at least, in passing; and his lover, you, who had been told one rainy night, but not the specifics of why, much like Cyran. Chevalier merely took note of the weather and adjusted Clavis’s work accordingly, more or less depending on the day, Cyran tried his best to help in his own way, but you didn’t really know what to do. Newer in his life compared to his older brother and most trusted knight, you were still trying to figure out how to fill in the cracks in his smile. Without knowing the exact reason the rain-soaked roses had such an effect on him certainly didn’t help. Especially as someone who has always liked the rain.

On this particular day, Chevalier decided it was better to give Clavis more than usual. Have him focus on all the things he needs to get done, instead of the scent of damp roses that had filtered through open windows in the hallways. Cyran always hated to admit how the focus on the extra work seemed to help, but he did his part to help anyway, this did mean extra work for him too.

Meanwhile, you spent the late morning making Clavis’s favorite snacks. The earlier morning was spent doing your work with Sariel. You made sure to make extras for anyone else in the office, but your main focus was on your lover. His favorite tea to pair with the snacks. Every little detail about the early afternoon tea would be focused on Clavis and his favorite things.

“Ahh, my lovely lover knows me so well,” Clavis said seeing the arrangement you brought up to the office. 

“I had some extra time, so I thought I’d make something nice,” you said. It was only half true. You had asked for the afternoon off, but it had been planned for you to have less work that day behind the scenes. It’s how you were able to finish your work in the late morning, faster than expected of you. 

“But did you really need to bring any for my brother?” Clavis said as if the man in question wasn’t sitting right there. Chevalier didn’t seem to mind as he said nothing nor did he look up.

“It would’ve been rude not to, knowing he’s here too.” You responded honestly. 

After a bit of a break, you decided it was best to leave to allow Clavis to get back to work. Yet you stopped by a voice other than your boyfriend. Chevalier was telling you to stay to help Clavis sort through papers to get his work done he does have extra after all; Chevalier planned for this.

As the hours passed by, you helped Clavis work. The clouds in the sky parted allowing rays of sun to peak out from the clouds. When Clavis was nearly done, he thanked you for the help and advised you to take the rest of the day off. You’d already finished your work, he could handle the rest. Knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer, you pressed a kiss to Clavis’s forehead - Chevalier was focused on wrapping up his work, one small kiss wouldn’t hurt. Your lover froze for a moment but smiled as he noticed you were already gone before he could tease you. He decided to let this one pass. He knew what you, Chevalier, and Cryan had been doing all day. Clavis was truly grateful for everything you’ve done today and every other time it rains. (Chevalier as well, but he would never even dare admit it, even to himself.)

As you made it to your room you realized that despite the sun shining over the gardens it had started to lightly rain. You’ve always enjoyed the rain. Especially sun showers. Ever since you were young you’d go out and play in the rain or read a book by the window to the calming sounds of rain in the background.

With Clavis never explicitly telling you the reason for his great dislike of rain-soaked roses, you wondered if your want to go out with him was one you should ignore or not.

“Clavis!” You said happily having just left your room to look for him. “Come dance with me? Please.” You grabbed his hand excited to go dance with him, if he's willing.

Clavis noted you changed into the new sundress he’d gotten for you a couple of weeks ago. The plans to wear it on your next date in town kept getting moved around with work, more work, and the weather. You look amazing in the dress, as he expected. “Dance? Wh-”

“Don’t think about it, just come dance with me, please?” You asked, cutting him off. 

“How can I possibly say no to such a request?” Clavis agreed with a soft smile.

The third prince let you happily pull him out to the gardens, the rain-soaked roses hitting his senses immediately, but you tightened the grip on his hand keeping him with you. “Don’t think, just follow me,” you said looking back at him for a moment. And he did. You looked incredibly happy, you looked like you knew exactly what you were doing.

And you did. You lead Clavis down the cobblestone paths of the garden to the open area by the lake. Yes, there were bushes around it, but there were rose bushes all around the gardens. Avoiding roses in Rholdiate was nearly impossible.

Slipping your heels off, you pulled the third prince towards the grass and twirled underneath his arm to face him, resting your opposite hand around his neck with a laugh.

It was rare you left Clavis speechless, but this was definitely one of those times. The sloppy and awkward yet smooth dance you led him in was one you clearly enjoyed. The way you giggled as you spun under his arm again and again, the rain flowing off your dress as you did so. The way the sun shined on your face as you dipped back confident Clavis’ strong arms wouldn’t let you fall. The two of you getting soaked from the rain, yet you didn’t seem to mind; it seemed like you loved it. The setting sun only lit up your smile in a way it hasn’t before.

As the sun dipped further into the horizon, the rain seemingly picked up. Yet your happiness didn’t fade with the sun, nor did Clavis's. The scent of wet roses seemed to disappear the longer the two of you had danced, despite the smell only growing stronger. Still, Clavis found himself genuinely smiling as he focused solely on you, on the dance.

The rain had completely stopped now, giving way to the light of the full moon. Clavis had joined you in your bed after a much-needed hot bath. Carefully helping each other wash out the cold rainwater. Even now he can still feel the warmth on your skin as you hold each other close.

The next morning brought with it clear blue skies as the sun lit up the gardens. The third prince watched as you looked out the window fondly. Water dripped off the rose petals and leaves as the sun started to dry them. Clavis realized that while he will never like the smell of rain-soaked roses, he wouldn’t mind dancing in the rain with you again.

IkePri Master List

[palajae]

episode one. | lee heeseung

PAIRING ▸ host!heeseung x reader

GENRE ▸ ouran high school host club!au, high school! au, romance, fluff, angst, humor,

WC ▸ 3.6k

SUMMARY ▸ host lee heeseung: the prince charming type. prepare your heart for the shameless flirting by the one and only president of the en-host club. note: also the most popular and requested host, so be sure to spend your time together wisely!

AKA episode one of the kiss, kiss, fall in love! series

AN/NOTES ▸ mentions of bullying?? food, idk not proofread

AAAAAA i am so excited to be releasing the first part of this ouran high school host club inspired series!! it was so much fun to write and i think enha + ohshc just work so well together :) i love the anime so if you haven’t watched it i really really recommend it! anyways, happy reading <3

EPISODE 1. Starting Today, You are The Chosen One! 

seriously, was there not a single quiet place to study in the largest—not to forget richest—school in the country? 

as you strolled down the long hallways, one specific room stands out. music room #3. 

you look around, finding no one in sight. it didn��t hurt to try. nothing better than a hopefully empty music room, right? 

you unassumingly push past the doors, expecting an empty space. what you certainly didn’t expect was to be greeted by a flash of light and a pleasant breeze—what in the world? 

you squint. where did it come from?

perhaps the group of seven dazzling boys standing rather intimidatingly before you. 

“welcome!”all their voices chime in unison. 

you take a second to rub your eyes. not because of their devishly good looks or anything, but because of the stupidly bright lights. 

“who are-?” 

you then visibly deflate. “oh. you guys.” 

one of them looks almost offended as they eye you, “what is that supposed to mean?”

you flick a random flower petal off your shoulder as you huff, “nothing. i just have other ways to spend my time rather than squander it here at the en-host club..”

the host sitting in the middle regards you with a mysterious stare. you try not to shift uncomfortably at his gaze, but even you weren’t completely resistant to his admittedly handsome looks. 

the one next to him, looking particularly cold and sharp, speaks up. “and how would you know if you haven’t spent a day with us? if i’m correct, you are an unfamiliar face to this club.” 

“yeah, and i’d like to keep it that way,” you respond dryly. your backpack feels almost as heavy as a boulder, like it was waiting for you to find a place to drop it and settle down. 

at this point, you realize most of the so called hosts have lost interest and gone to entertain their guests, which you’re more than fine with. 

“all i’m asking for is just one quiet place to study at this gigantic school,” you mumble off to yourself. unbeknownst to you, only one person remains. the one who hasn’t taken his gaze off you. 

it was a bit intimidating, you had to admit. 

“i know a place,” he finally speaks up and you almost jump. 

“huh?” you find it hard—almost impossible—to look into his eyes. he looked you straight in the eye, never breaking eye contact. 

plus, he was too good looking for his own good. you were almost annoyed. to be rich and handsome was just unfair. 

he suddenly smirks, placing a hand on his chest, “there’s a place for you in my heart, if you want.” 

“okay, that’s it.” 

you turn on your heels and start towards the exit, but his hand reaches out to snatch your wrist and pull you back. 

you stumble, almost into his arms. 

you glance at him with wide eyes. again, his deep gaze causes you to freeze, your pupils dilated. 

“i was joking.” 

“sure.” you clear your throat and take a step back, collecting your bearings while attempting to appear unaffected. 

he chuckles, and the low sound resonates in your ears. 

“i’m heeseung, but you can call me yours. pleasure to meet you.” 

he bows while extending a hand, which you stare speechlessly at. 

“no thanks. i wish i could say the pleasure is all mine, but it’s really not,” you shrug. “if you’re not here to tell me where i can study in peace, then i’ll be going. not sure how you’d know since i’ve never seen you guys study but…” you trail off. 

“if i tell you, will you come back?” 

it catches you off guard— his gaze. you don’t like them. his eyes. besides the fact that they were too pretty, there was something behind them you couldn’t discern. 

“am i supposed to say yes?” you cock an eyebrow momentarily, “do you want me to say yes?”

this time, he laughs and you watch his nose crinkle in amusement. 

“cute.” 

you look away, at a loss for words. 

“here.” 

“w-what?” 

“we have a spare room connected to this music room, but none of us have any use for it. you can use it to study, whenever you want.” 

he guides you away to a totally inconspicuous door, and you wonder if you’re falling into a trap. your hand subconsciously finds its way to your backpack pocket. it’s not like a sharpened pencil would do much, but at least it was something?

however, when he pushes past the door, your mouth almost drops open. 

it’s a spacious room, considering it was a spare connected to the main music room. you could tell it was quite soundproof as well, the sounds of girls giggling and chatter fading away. 

“how….” 

heeseung chuckles.

“it’s nice, i know. only our host club knows about it.”

“what?” you look up at him, puzzled. “then why would you-?”

“heeseung! are you gonna keep flirting with y/n or are you gonna do your job as president?” a voice echoes from outside. 

his demeanor quickly switches back to “host” mode. 

“of course. have fun studying. i’ll be seeing you around… y/n?”

he winks before heading off. you stand there momentarily, stunned. 

first off, how did they know your name? 

and more importantly, was that a threat or promise? 

besides the occasional talk to your classmates, you couldn’t really say you had many friends. 

it wasn’t a choice or an option considering the only reason you were at this school was due to them giving you one of the only merit-based scholarshipa they offered. so either you work your butt off studying or essentially, pack your bags and do the walk of shame out of the most prestigious school. 

you weren’t stupid. you knew you had to capitalize on this chance.  

the chair slides out with a screech next to you. 

“you’re telling me heeseung, the president of the en-host club, flirted with you voluntarily?”

and perhaps there was another reason for socializing only “occasionally.” 

your eye twitches. 

“i didn’t know it was that big of a deal…” 

“no,” natty pauses, “heeseung flirts with practically everyone. but for him to approach you first without any request or affiliation beforehand? that’s strange. i didn’t know he even knew of your existence.”

you want to roll your eyes, but she was right. how—and why—did he even care? 

up until yesterday, heeseung was a stranger to you. he was a name whispered by the wind passing by (and his countless fan girls). 

you didn’t know he was that popular. after that eventful day, accidentally entering and meeting the en-host club, your perspective began to shift. 

to heeseung’s credit, you actually were productive and got some studying done in the spare room. the only anxiety-inducing part was refusing to leave the place and holding your bladder in fear of awkward encounters with said man again. 

you saw how popular he was, receiving countless private and public confessions. he was handsome, kind, and not to forget—a huge tease. 

in the halls, at the dining hall, in classes, you soon found out lee heeseung was everywhere. 

gosh you thought your eyes would get permanently stuck to the back of your head from the amount of times you rolled your eyes at his antics. 

if you heard him call another girl darling you would actually throw up. 

even worse, he wouldn’t leave you alone either. you avoided him during school but came to music room #3 during study halls and breaks. 

you told yourself it was only to be productive. it had nothing to do with heeseung and what he said. 

you huff and brush the thought off, quietly and carefully opening the doors to the room.

“you’re back?”

at this point, you were starting to get used to it, used to him. the other hosts were too, barely sparing a glance for you. 

“don’t get too comfortable. i’m simply taking advantage of our school’s resources and your offer.” 

“oh?” he takes a step closer and you fight the urge to take one back. 

“who said my offer was for free? nothing in this world is free. except for my time and affection, if you want.” 

you scowl and he grins. “only a joke, my dear.” 

“yeah, and i’m totally in love with you,” you respond sarcastically. you expect heeseung to reply with some flirty remark and lead you to the room so he could return back to his host duties. 

instead, he simply stands there. once more you can’t read his expression. 

“hello? mr. president?” you wave a hand in front of his eyes. 

heeseung suddenly whips his head away from you, covering his face with a hand. you attempt to face him but he turns away.

“are… are you blushing?”

at that, the whole room quiets. 

“no way, prez’s ears are red.” 

“i’ve never seen heeseung that shy before…”

“what did they do to him?”

he places his hands on his hips in an act of composure. “seriously y/n, you’re gonna be the death of me.” 

“you’re actually being serious right now,” you deadpan, wanting to slap a hand over your face. 

“do you need help studying? i’ll come to check up on you soon. maybe we can-“

“no thanks,” you call out, already turning to head to the room. 

what you both don’t notice are the unconscious smiles on both of your faces as you walk away. 

you were getting a little too used to seeing heeseung these days. you didn’t want to rely too much on using the en-host club’s spare room, especially after what heeseung said. 

you shiver, god’s favorites like him were scary. 

but you often found yourself expecting him unconsciously. he was always the first one to approach you or make a move. and even though you flat out rejected him every time, you began to look forward to every meeting, every conversation and time spent together. 

leaving class one day, you’re stopped by a devilish smile. 

“can i help you..?”

the host crosses his arms.

“heeseung’s different around you.” 

“excuse me?” you narrow your eyes. 

jake shrugs, “he’s never been like this around any girl at the club.” 

“what’s like this supposed to mean?” you scrunch your nose. sometimes you forgot what it was like having another en-host club member in your class. 

“you’re like the chosen one.”

“i don’t like the sound of that.” 

he gives you a look, one you only shrug at. 

“doesn’t matter, see ya at the club later. or not. only heeseung would care.” 

you heave a deep sigh. 

i mean, jake wasn’t entirely wrong. you weren’t dumb either. you noticed how attentive he was.

but then again, it was lee heeseung.

opening water bottles for you, saving you your favorite snacks at the club (and it was always the most delicious ones), sending you encouraging notes and gifts as you did your work peacefully—that was just his charm. that was just his prince charming agenda the whole club pushed. 

right? 

[2:48 p.m.] unknown: you aren’t coming today 

[2:48 p.m.] unknown: ?

[2:53 p.m.] you: who is this

[2:54 p.m.] unknown: your one and only obviously 

[2:55 p.m.] you: ha ha ha 

[2:55 p.m.] you: i’m one click away from blocking you 

[2:56 p.m.] unknown: wait no it’s heeseung

[2:57 p.m.] you: ? 

[2:57 p.m.] unknown: fr  

[image attached.]

[2:59 p.m.] you: i believe you.. you didn’t have to send a whole selfie lol 

[2:59 p.m.] heeseung: hey those sell for expensive you know 

[3:00 p.m.] heeseung: you should be grateful 

[3:01 p.m.] heeseung: hello

[3:01 p.m.] heeseung: y/n?

[3:01 p.m.] heeseung: okay okay i didn’t mean it 

[3:02 p.m.] heeseung: HELLO 

[3:03 p.m.] heeseung: is the airhead here and present 

[3:05 p.m.] you: aw heeseung you should be a little more nice to yourself 

[3:06 p.m.] heeseung: :,(

[3:06 p.m.] heeseung: </3 

[3:10 p.m.] you: i have tutoring 

[3:10 p.m.] you: and i’ll give your jacket back next time

[3:11 p.m.] you: sorry 

[3:12 p.m.] heeseung: no don’t apologize 

[3:12 p.m.] heeseung: there’s no rush to return it :) 

[3:13 p.m.] you: i wasn’t even that cold.. you didn’t have to give it to me

[3:14 p.m.] you: plus i’d rather not have a bounty on me for not returning like a thousand dollar jacket 

[3:16 p.m.] heeseung: it’s two thousand

[3:15 p.m.] you: right yeah so i gotta go 

[3:15 p.m.] you: wait aren’t you supposed to be hosting? 

[3:16 p.m.] heeseung: maybe.. 

you have to stifle a smile at the absurdity of the situation. you could only imagine heeseung furiously typing away on his phone, ignoring his duties. 

recently, he had been visiting (bothering) you a lot when you came to use the spare room. and you were starting to feel bad for taking his seemingly precious time away from the others. 

the next day, you decide to confront him. maybe you were simply curious. maybe the rumors and whispers surrounding you and him were getting to you a little. 

just a little. 

“welcome back, my-“

“hello to you too,”you snort. now you simply head straight for the room, ignoring the envious stares as heeseung trails behind you like a lost puppy. 

“i missed you yesterday.”

“i’m sure there were plenty of girls to keep you company,” you retort while pulling out your papers. 

“is that jealousy i hear?” he sits down next to you, eyes sparkling in amusement. one hand of his supports his cheek as he watches you fondly. 

you try your best to keep cool, but the room starts to feel a little hot.

“y-you wish.” 

he smiles while reaches over to tousle your hair, and you feel your heart pound in your chest. it was uncomfortable, so you cough. 

“how did you get my number?” you ask in hopes of distracting him from noticing your flustered state. 

“i maybe have pulled a few strings. i’m not the president for no reason, ya know,” he winks. 

“so you asked jake.”

he laughs hastily, avoiding eye contact and mumbling. 

this side of heeseung was the one that fascinated you the most. 

silence follows as you begin to start your homework, but a million other things that certainly weren’t about homework run through your mind.  

at some point, with heeseung being too cozy next to you, you can’t stand it anymore. 

“heeseung?”

“hm?”

“why do you,” you swallow, “why do you keep following me? like, hanging around me instead of your clubmates and guests? i don’t really have anything to offer you.”

he looks surprised, taking a minute to respond. 

when he looks at you again, your next words die on your tongue. that was simply the heeseung effect. 

“that’s exactly why. you don’t offer me anything and don’t expect anything in return. i don’t have to always be the good host, responsible president, or future ceo in front of you. i can enjoy this time with you. i like spending time with you.”

you’re shocked, to say the least. you never knew he felt that way. before you can respond, you heard a harsh knocking on the door. 

then it swings open. you jump as it slams against the wall. 

the vice president—jay, you believe—stands there with his arms crossed. there’s a tick in his forehead as he begins to speak. 

“heeseung! what do you think you’re doing?”

you watch, stunned as a frown appears on heeseung’s face. 

“am i not allowed to be in here?”

“you’re not allowed to neglect your duties! you can’t keep doing this as our president and most popular host—guests are expecting you. lately, many have been complaining about your absences and our reputation is going down. are you going to keep letting the club down because of them? a mere commoner-“

heeseung stands up, “jay, don’t you-“

suddenly, you stand up. the two boys fall silent at your move. 

“maybe i should go,” you bite your lip as you see heeseung’s face flash with hurt, “i apologize for taking up heeseung’s time and occupying your spare room. i hope you can forgive me.”

you bow to jay and quickly gather your stuff to take your leave, ignoring heeseung’s calls after you.

you took time to think about it, and jay was right. it was weird for heeseung to waste his time with you. he wasn’t getting anything out of it. he was neglecting his duty and tarnishing his and his friends reputation’s. you were the distraction. you were the issue.

the whole “chosen one” crap meant nothing. 

you were fine with removing yourself from the equation. after all, you never fit in the first place. 

your back hurts. it’s been about an hour since you noticed your books missing, only to find them dumped into the water fountain. 

you don’t have to be a genius to guess who did it. you curse those dumb, jealous heeseung fan girls. can’t you just have one day of peace? 

so far, you’ve already found most of your books and homework. they lay off to the side in your feeble attempt to dry them off. 

now, where was your wallet? sleeves and pants rolled up, you continue your search in the shallow water. 

“is this what you’re looking for?”

you almost jump at the scarily familiar voice. 

a similar sight greets you—heeseung stands a few feet away from you in the water, ridiculously expensive pants rolled up to his knees. 

he holds up a flimsy thin wallet. yours that you had been using well for the last six years since you weren’t able to buy a new one.

your mouth drops open, “thank goodness. that was my lunch money for the next week.” one of the nicer students would occasionally give you their extra lunch, but you hated depending and taking from them, you hated feeling like you were being pitied. suddenly, you feel like someone’s watching you. you glance around, but there’s no one. your stomach churns as you frown. 

heeseung insists on helping you dry off your stuff. it’s the first time you’ve seen him look anything but happy. 

“who did this to you?”

you shrug. that uncomfortable feeling of being watched still lingers in your stomach. 

heeseung crosses his arms, face grim. “this is unacceptable. i’m going to the headmaster to report-“

“no. please,” you plead quietly. “i’m fine as long as i have my stuff. you can go.”

he shakes his head insistently. “of course it’s not! why would anyone-“

“i’m serious, heeseung. if you really want to help, you’ll leave me alone. for your own sake and mine.”

you press your lips together, you don’t even believe your own words as you gather your stuff and walk off. 

after about a week, you begin to seriously contemplate things. everything has gone back to normal. from what you hear, the host club is back to normal and running fine. 

you’re finding obscure, inefficient places to study and work alone now. totally back to normal. 

yet you didn’t feel normal. why was there a tiny little voice in your head still bothering you? 

it felt wrong, almost disappointing when you didn’t see him around school anymore. you hated how your eyes automatically scanned every room you entered for the host. waiting. hoping. 

you hated to admit it, but you wondered why heeseung never came to talk to you. you wondered if he cared—if he ever cared like you somehow grew to care for him. 

maybe… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him again? closure or something of the sort?

however, fear and insecurity exist. especially in your position, you had everything to lose. you figure he probably wanted nothing to do with you, was probably too busy and preoccupied anyway. 

it’s not until jake approaches you one lunch period that you begin to realize your assumptions may be entirely wrong. 

you eye him warily, gripping your fork. 

“what do you want?”

“how is heeseung so down bad for you?”

your heart quickens at the mention of heeseung. 

you shoot jake a confused look and he sighs.

“look, i didn’t mention this to anyone else, but why have you stopped coming? did heeseung do something? with you gone, he’s been unhappy, quiet, and overworked recently so i figured something was up.”

you look down, voice quiet, “i didn’t know it was like that. i’ve, uh, been busy recently,” you finish lamely. 

so that’s how he’s been. 

jake looks at you skeptically, but you wave him off. 

“thanks for bringing it up. i just need to sort some things out first.”

you get up to gather your belongings and your bearings, but you falter at the sound of jake’s voice. 

“i hope you know—well, i think you do—that heeseung is a good person. he can be a bit much, but he always does stuff for others with his best intentions in mind. a little too much, that he forgets about himself. i think i speak for most of the group members when i say he’s been much happier since he’s met you. so, thanks.” 

this is the first time you’ve seen jake this serious.

“i see.” 

you sigh, before pinching your nose bridge. curse the en-host club for making you rethink every life choice you’ve ever made.

“welcome!”

you’re caught quite off guard when you see a singular face greet you:

the vice president in the flesh, jay. 

“oh, it’s you.”

“jay,” you acknowledge coolly. 

“i certainly wasn’t expecting you to show up. back to studying in the spare room? or is it perhaps, heeseung this time?”

you shrug, “one or the other.”

the two of you stare at each other for a brief moment, before jay steps back. 

“heeseung! a new guest has requested you!” he calls out, catching the attention of those around him. 

most of the guests had gotten used to seeing you. but since it had been a while since your last visit, stares uncomfortably linger on you.  

“coming!” you hear his voice and the hairs on your neck prick up. 

“jay, you called-?” heeseung sounds breathless and to be frank, a bit roughed up. a sudden urge to reach over and fix his hair fills you. 

once he sees you, he stops in his tracks. 

“hey,” he exhales. you swallow. 

before you can say anything though, he glances back at the guests, hesitant. 

jay then pats him on the back, “don’t worry, i’ll keep them distracted with teasers of our next photo shoot.” 

of course, he always had to be cool with his indiscrete approval. 

it hits you that the two of you can finally be alone. 

“are you here to study?” heeseung speaks up, scratching the back of his neck in anticipation? or was it nervousness? 

“actually, no.” 

 he’s seems super surprised when he asks, “then what are you doing here?”

you cross your arms, kicking the floor with your shoe. 

“honestly? i have no clue. maybe because i was bored. or something.”

all of that meaning: i wanted to know you were okay. i wanted to spend time with you. i want to keep you company, for now and possibly for the future.

you fight back a smile when you heeseung smile. you knew you could count on heeseung to read his guests well. 

“or something?”

that was the heeseung you knew. you groan, “i’m already regretting this.” 

your breath hitches at the sound of his laugh, pure and carefree.

“you missed me that much?”

“okay, now you’re pushing it.” 

“well,” the handsome president gestures out grandly, “i’m your host. that means i’m yours for the day.” 

how could that offer be beat? 

you supposed being the chosen one didn’t sound too bad. 

he offers out a hand, and you sigh. although your arms are crossed, you begrudgingly fall into the man that is lee heeseung. 

next episode.

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[marvelmusing]

Biology Lessons

Alpha!Modern!Laszlo Kreizler x Omega!Fem!Reader

My Masterlist

A/N: I was curious about the biology of A/B/O and ended up reading a lot of Wikipedia pages, 3000 words and a small Alpha Laszlo obsession later here we are

WARNINGS: 18+ content, unprotected smut, A/B/O dynamics, reader has female anatomy but no gender specific pronouns have been used (if there have been please let me know)

You and Laszlo had been together for two years. During this time you had been intimate on plenty of occasions, however you’d always ignored your secondary sex. When together, you were just two lovers, not an Alpha and Omega. You had limited experience with dealing with your biology and Laszlo had respected your decision to stay on your suppressants. He, in turn, had begun taking some of the weaker forms of suppressants. The kind that reduced his rut to a few days that he spent at John’s house. This situation worked well, until you reached the point where you changed your mind and wanted to come off your suppressants. You trusted Laszlo to help you through it and he was more than eager to take care of you.

“Have you ever had a heat?” Laszlo asks you. The two of you are sitting in his downstairs office at his house. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting a glow over Laszlo’s face as he watches you. Your eyes wander as you think about it.

“Once or twice when I first presented. But I started on suppressants pretty young.” He frowns a little, and you know his medical side disapproves. “We never learnt much about it in school.” You explain, trying to justify your decision. He nods immediately,

“Of course. The education system is curated for the success of Alphas. That, and sex education regarding Omegas is still often considered taboo.” He places a hand on your knee, “That’s not your fault, drágám.” You nod, keeping your focus on the hem of the robe you’re wearing - Laszlo’s bathrobe. “Would you like me to explain it to you?” Your face warms at the thought, and you shake your head.

“You don’t have to.”

“No, but I’d like to. I think you deserve to know about yourself.” You give him a small nod. He smiles kindly at you and beckons you closer. When you approach him, he pulls you into his lap. “What would you like to know?” He asks you. You shrug slightly, fiddling with your fingers.

“I don’t know.” You admit quietly. He hums in thought, before asking you,

“How would you describe my scent?” You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck as you inhale his scent. He smiles softly, his hand resting at the back of your neck, knowing that his scent will take the edge off your nerves. Your eyes flutter open as a small smile tugs at your lips.

“It’s like the citrus soap from my grandmother’s house, and the smell of new books, and your office, and like home.” You tell him and he squeezes the back of your neck affectionately.

“You smell like a field of fresh flowers, clean linen, and warm sugared tea. Soft and sweet, and safe.” He admits. You smile up at him as you lean your temple against his shoulder. He taps your nose gently with the tip of his finger. “The scent receptors in your nose pick up my scent and your body’s response depends on how appealing you find it.”

“Very appealing.” You admit against his neck and he hums affectionately.

“This is what helps you decide on my suitability as a mate. As well as other factors such as aesthetics, personality, and overall attraction.”

“That, and you’re one of the kindest, most loving men I’ve ever met.” He looks down, never used to the praise you always give him. His smile widens as he leans in to kiss your cheek.

“Enough flattery from you. It’s time for our lesson.” He tightens his hold on you as you smile at him, resting his weaker hand on your thigh. “Heat cycles occur once every season, so usually four in a year. The heat itself lasts between five and ten days, but that depends on the person.” His thumb skims across the skin of your bare legs lightly. “While Omegas can be sexually active outside of their heat, it is much more pleasurable during their cycle.” You’ve always loved listening to him talk, but hearing him explain all this to you has your body melting against his as your eyes remain fixed on his lips as he speaks. “Did you know that, as your mate, I may be able to trigger your heat?” You blink at him in surprise. You didn’t know that. “It isn’t always possible, but would you like me to try?” He asks, noticing your interest. You nod cautiously, and he takes your hands as he guides you off his lap, before pulling you towards the centre of his office. He sits you down on his desk with your legs parted, and he stands between them. He places his warm hands on your thighs, and nuzzles his nose against your neck. “You know where your scent glands are, yes?” You nod. You tap your finger against the ones on each side of your throat, then bare your wrists to him to show him the areas. You frown before mentioning,

“There’s another pair, I think, but I don’t know where they are.” He smiles proudly at you,

“Correct. There is one here, and here.” He tells you, trailing his fingers along each of your thighs. “They’re a little different from your other ones, which is why most people forget about them.” He squeezes your thighs tenderly as he continues his explanation. “Their main purpose is so that when you go into heat your slick will smell of your Alpha, and tell everyone that you’re taken.” You swallow the whine in your throat, but he knows the effect he’s having on you already. “How long have you been off your suppressants?” He asks you. He knows the answer of course, but he wants to see if your mind is still functioning.

“Around two weeks.” He nods,

“The perfect time to trigger your heat. That is of course if you want to?” You nod hurriedly,

“Please.” He steps closer,

“All I need to do is apply a little pressure here,” the pads of his fingers press against the glands in your thighs. He smiles at the sight of your head falling back, bearing your neck to him. “A little stimulus here.” His tongue moves across the pulse of your throat, sending a shudder down your spine. “And for you to take a nice deep breath.” You do as he says, your body responding instantly to his pheromones. He smells the change in your scent and smiles. “There you go, good Omega.” He coos. You whine at the warmth spreading slowly through your body as you cling to your Alpha. “You should be feeling rather warm now.” You nod your head a few times in agreement. He hums, “And I can smell your slick already.” He nuzzles his lips against your neck, and you whine for him. “By triggering your heat, we’ve skipped the pre-heat nesting stage. But don’t worry Omega, I’ve prepared the bed for you, and you can fix it up just how you like it tomorrow.” You’re beginning to pant and a shimmer of sweat is coating your skin as your fingers tug at his clothing. His words certainly aren’t helping either. He cups your face. “But right now, I think my Omega needs my knot, yes?” You nod hurriedly,

“Alpha, please.” You loop your arms around his neck, wrapping your legs around his torso, and he hooks his hands underneath your thighs. He lifts you from his desk and takes you up to the bed. When you see the bed set up, a large number of pillows at one end, blankets bunched up the sides, and the whole place smells of Laszlo’s cologne. “Laszlo.” You whisper softly, as the sight pulls on your heartstrings.

“I wanted everything to be perfect.” He admits, leaning in to kiss you.

“You’re here, it couldn’t be more perfect.” You tell him through the kiss. You can feel his grin as his mouth moves against yours, the back of your legs meeting the bed, and he guides you down carefully. He pulls at the belt of the bathrobe, letting it fall open and taking a moment to admire you. He pulls away to remove his clothes, and you whimper at the lack of contact. You take this moment as an opportunity to slip the robe from your body, abandoning it on the floor. You turn onto your stomach, hands smoothing up the bedsheets to rest above your head. Hips shifting needily, you arch your back, your knees digging into the mattress. Once he’s undressed, Laszlo looks back at you and his jaw nearly drops, though he’s quick to recover.

“Such a pretty picture, my beautiful Omega, already presenting for me.” He settles between your open thighs, leaning his body over yours. You rut your hips back against his, desperate for any sort of friction. You feel his smirk as his mouth moves across your shoulder. His hand descends between your thighs, fingers pressing against your warm folds. “And you’re so wet already, drágám.” He slips his finger deep into you, drawing a needy gasp from your lips.

“Laszlo, Alpha, please.”

“More?”

“Yes, yes please.” He removes his finger, leaving you whining, your hips chasing him. His hands curl around your waist, squeezing you gently as he tuts.

“Patience Omega.” But you don’t have to wait long, as he lines himself up to your entrance. In one fluid motion he’s filled you up, your eyes squeezed shut and your back arching against the mattress. “Such a perfect fit.” He moans against your neck, his accent getting thicker as you take in every inch of him. He kisses your shoulder delicately.

“Tell me when I can move, édesem.” You take a few gasping breaths, trying to become accustomed to the haze filling your mind. He notices your struggle. “Relax Omega. Let me take care of you.” A tiny whine catches in your throat, then you’re nodding.

“Please, Alpha.” His forehead presses between your shoulder blades as he moves in and out of you. Every single one of your moans and gasps has him nearing the edge of his restraint. Whilst Laszlo wants to focus on you, his need is slowly growing and he wants to ensure you want this.

“Drágám, darling Omega,” he rasps out. “I don’t think I can hold back for much longer.”

“Don’t, please. Don’t hold back.” That’s all it takes for his pace to increase. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs as he pushes you closer. You press your forehead hard against the plush of the mattress as you feel his knot pushing against your entrance. You whine, desperate for him to fill you completely. Growling against the skin of your back, nails gripping onto your hips, he drives his hips harder against yours. You don’t feel the thin red lines trailing down your thighs as you clench around him. “Are you ready for my knot, Omega? I know you’re close.” You can’t reply. Your mind is completely lost to the feeling of your Alpha taking you to pieces. “I need you to come, so my knot can stuff you full.” As soon as he knows you’re about to come he pushes his knot into you. Your eyes roll back, and you come hard with a broken cry. Only a moment later Laszlo comes as well, his lips grazing down your spine as he does. His knot swells, ensuring none of your slick escapes. Your body goes slack as the two of you attempt to catch your breath. You feel Laszlo’s breathing tickle the skin of your back as it slowly returns to normal. He shifts his weight slightly. “This may feel a little odd.” He warns you. He takes hold of your leg and moves it to the other side of him, effectively spinning you around and lying you down with your back to the mattress. You gasp a little at the change in position, his knot still holding deep inside you. “Now this is better.” He remarks, leaning down to kiss your lips. He takes your hands in his own, letting them run down your spent body. “Can you feel how full you are?” He pushes your hands over your abdomen, your fingers skimming over the bulge caused by his knot. “You did so well Omega, letting me fill you up like this.” He leans forward, nuzzling against your neck. “Such a brave Omega.” He coos. His praises and gentle touches soon have you coming back to your senses. Laszlo notices when the haze has cleared from your eyes, and gives you a soft smile.

“Hi.” You whisper.

“Hello.” The two of you stay in each other’s arms for a while, simply enjoying the close proximity to one another. You rub your fingers over his chest, before reaching up to curl them into the hair at the back of his neck.

“Laszlo,” you say softly, tilting your head back to bear your neck to him. “Can I have your mark?” He seems a little taken aback by your request.

“You- you want…”

“To be yours.” You watch his eyes darken slightly, and he claims your lips again. When he pulls away you’re breathless again.

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You tell him. “That is, of course, if you want me.”

“Édesem, you are my world.” You both share a tender smile. He cradles the side of your face before tilting your head back. He nuzzles his lips gently against your throat. “With your current level of endorphins you shouldn’t feel too much pain…”

“I love you.” You interrupt him, your smile wide.

“I love you too, drágám.” He presses a soft kiss to the mating gland at your throat, before sinking his teeth down. You clench your teeth, nails digging into the sheets at the sharp sting of your skin breaking. Then, a wave of pleasure rolls through you as your bond snaps into place. You feel Laszlo lapping at the small wound. “All good?” He asks you. You nod with a smile.

“Though, if you bring up that saliva is a natural healing agent I will kick you out of bed.” He chuckles.

“Before I get my own mark. How cruel.” You frown at him.

“What?”

“Alphas also have a mating gland.” You nod, your frown still present,

“I didn’t think- I’ve never seen-“

“Very few Alphas feel the need to wear their mate’s mark. However, I want the world to know I’m yours.” He smiles, watching the primal urge shimmer in your eyes, though he senses your lingering hesitance. “It won’t hurt me, drágám.” Your eyes flicker down to his neck, and he leans closer. “Right here.” He guides you to the spot against his throat. You cup his face carefully, taking a moment to nuzzle against his neck, breathing in his scent. “Don’t be scared Omega. Take what’s yours.” You sink your teeth into his throat, sucking gently at the break of his skin. You feel him shudder against you as your bond strengthens. You trace your tongue carefully along the wound. He leans down to kiss you again, your first kiss as a mated couple. You share a few more slow, loving kisses before Laszlo pulls away. He reaches down towards the bottom of the bed, pulling out a towel and lying it beneath your hips. You frown lightly at him. “Can’t have our nest getting dirty, can we?” Your face morphs into an affectionate smile. Your mate really does think of everything. You whimper when he pulls out, but he rubs your thighs reassuringly and presses kisses over your face. You giggle softly and he beams at you. He ensures the majority of the mess is soaked up by the towel before discarding it. He presses a kiss to your temple, “I’ll be right back Omega.” He’s gone for under thirty seconds, but you both feel the pull of your bond. When it’s fresh like this you can’t be parted for long. He returns with some wet wipes, and begins to clean the two of you up. The coolness soothes you, pushing the heat symptoms even further away. You smile softly at Laszlo and he shares your smile as the two of you spend a moment admiring one another. He throws the wipes away and settles down by your side. You nuzzle against him, purring contentedly. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Get some sleep drágám.”

•*•*•*•

Early the next morning, Laszlo is stirred from his sleep by some sort of movement at his side. The bedroom is still in semi-darkness, the sun hasn’t quite risen into the sky yet, but there’s enough light to see by. The sight before him warms his heart. You’re adjusting a pillow beside you, tucking it under the quilt to secure the wall of your nest. You have one of his shirts tucked under your arm, and nuzzle into one of the pillows.

“What are you doing, Omega?” He asks, his voice still thick with sleep. He can feel your blush as you mumble,

“Just getting comfortable.” He chuckles softly, pulling himself closer to you. You immediately melt into his arms, your body lying flush against his chest. He trails a hand down your spine, and despite your shiver, he can feel your body heat increasing.

“Ready to go again?” He suggests. You pout, the tiredness behind your eyes creeping up on you despite the slick gathering between your thighs.

“M’ tired.” You mumble against his chest.

“I know you are.” He coos, guiding your hips towards his. “But all you need to do is be a good Omega and keep me warm.” You sigh in relief at the feeling of him filling you, eyes fluttering shut as he continues, his accent thickening. “Yes, that’s all your heat-ridden body’s good for, isn’t it?” He feels you tighten at his words and he groans against your neck. “Don’t worry Omega, I’m going to take such good care of you.”

[getosboobies]

reasons i think matchablossom is or has been canon!

once again, i have become overly obsessive and have throughly analysed each and every kaoru & kojiro scene that we currently have. i indulged and created my own list of “ are they besties or are they banging or both “ but i have decided to share it all with you :))

( keep in mind, i’m a reacher and these are just my interpretations. i will go to any extent to prove myself correct - no matter how unlikely )

so first of all, we have the fact cherry is the only one we have yet to see at joe’s restaurant after hours. this immediately shows that they are extremely comfortable with each other and spend a lot of time together even when they’re not skating. it also potentially suggests cherry is waiting for joe to go home, maybe a habit they’ve developed over time. before these scenes, the producers always show an image of the restaurants front door which states closed. by showing this frame, it obviously gives the impression it’s important for us to know that it is closed and therefore showings us that joe and cherry’s relationship is more than just some rivalry banta and that they have an established friendship built on trust and time. the creators could have just not shown that it was closed and had us assume that’s they were just good friends who spent time together but they went a whole step further and showed us these two men’s personal lives are somewhat intertwined with one another, showing us that they don’t have large boundaries for each other which would be considered strange in contrast to the “ arguing “ we had previously seen between them. if this isn’t enough for you, in these scenes we also see joes uniform unbuttoned so i take this as even more evidence of how comfortable they are around each other. also ! restaurants tend to close quite late ( avg. 8pm-12pm ) and on all the shots of the closed door, it has been dark outside. why wouldn’t cherry be home at this time settling down or something??? or maybe cherry has a lot of love for joe if he’s willing to wait that long for him to finish work... just sayin’. more on this, i analysed the restaurants design and noticed that the plug in the wall is really low down to the ground. maybe this is just one of joes odd design techniques or maybe it was specifically placed for cherry to charge carla, the concept of which, makes me very happy

keeping on the point of joe’s restaurant, whenever we have seen cherry inside he always sits right in front of the kitchen, this is pretty normal unless you think about 1) how much time he spends there 2) how busy restaurants get 3) he came there while he was with a colleague. we’ve already seen that cherry doesn’t mind coming after hours so why did he come during the day if he knew joe would be busy? this is similar to the fact he came in with his colleague in episode 2 - he obviously wasn’t expecting to be able to talk with joe while he was out for a work meal, so why on earth would he sit right in front of where joe would be, which is situated in a considerably inconvenient table for work meal? what i’ve interpreted from this is that cherry’s must enjoy being in joes presence. cherry canonically having anxiety would explain why he likes being close to someone who he knows well, and that cares for him. being able to see and hear joe so close is perhaps very relaxing for cherry.

now when i watched sk8 for the first time, i gather the impression that joe was a forgive and forget kinda guy when it came to someone who did him wrong. when we’re introduced to adam it’s evident there is some hostility within joe but this does not nearly compare to the anger cherry showed. when suggesting a beef their intentions seem to be completely different. cherry outrightly admitting to his grudge and anger for adam whereas joe seems to just want to prove a point to adam by winning against him ( i mean look at the image above, their facial expressions show it all ). but i noticed that as cherry would speak about adam, joe’s intentions slowly shifted and became far more serious and full of anger. “ there’s someone i’d like to punch “ is a sentence said by joe in episode 8. this is quite different to what we had seen in earlier episodes of him just wanting to make a point. i think this shift was predominantly when joe found cherry at the ocean view. joe knew how cherry was feeling towards adam BEFORE this scene because he knew where to find him, but the realisation that cherry was standing there, alone, and reliving some of his saddest memories probably hit joe that cherry couldn’t do this alone. therefore stepped up his game and met cherry’s loathing so they could do it together. as far as things go, this is one of the most important things they have done for each other because it shows clearly how devoted they are to each other.

this is one of the most confusing lines in this show thus far. i’m sure it’ll make sense in the oncoming episodes but i have come to two conclusions. so either adam has created this false reality of what happened and has told himself his evil ways stemmed from joe and cherry or, the more likely in my opinion, adam always felt like he was in need of a partner, a rival but also someone to love. this is displayed in the show in his predatory ways, aka, he wants his own ‘eve’. now there’s no ruling whatsoever that a skater needs any sort of dedicated rival, or skate partner, so i believe adam probably got this want from his peers, for example, joe and cherry. adam seems to believe you need to love your ‘eve’ and it gives me the idea that maybe he saw joe and cherry -in love- and decided that was what he wanted, but then as we know he went about it in an extremely toxic way. the “was it so“ was really hard to interpret, he’s clearly quite smug by the way he shrugs and smiles and shows that he’s very confident about what he’s saying but the question is short and leaves a lot unknown, which suggests why cherry and joe don’t respond. either they are as confused as i am, or they have a slight idea what adam could be suggesting and they feel guilty. we all know cherry and joe aren’t bad hearted people but as adam is insinuating ‘no, you guys parted ways from me first’ it could suggest that joe and cherry had perhaps become closer in high school and had developed a stronger bond than they had with adam and this left adam feeling lost and alone. this is more of a canon compliant headcanon that would make sense rather than a fact but it’s certainly something to think about.

one of the most obvious factors in their relationship is how they always know what the other is thinking or planning. we’ve seen in recent episodes that when cherry was racing, joe knew exactly what his motive was even without discussing it, thats enough information to show how well they truly know each other and how connected they really are. it’s also shown with cherry. when joe is racing, and is going extremely fast towards the corner, we see a frame of miya and shadow being worried for him, but then it shifts to cherry watching and there’s not a spec of worry on his face because he KNOWS what joe is planning and knows he will be fine. they know each other’s techniques better than anyone and it shows they don’t doubt each other’s choices one bit.

we learn right from the beginning that cherry and joe like to argue and fight, at first we think this is because they dislike each other but we learn that they are best friends. so when watching back you notice that none of the insults are ever actually insulting. let’s think about it, the most common insults they use are gorilla, dimwit and four-eyes. now to me, none of these actually seem insulting whatsoever and even if they do like to argue a lot it’s obvious they never ever mean any harm to one another.

from analysing the scenes one of the things i’ve noticed the most is how cherry and joe turn up and leave together. when the cops came during the langa x adam skate they both started to run off together leaving everyone else behind. as we know, they spend a lot of their personal lives together but leaving and turning up together every single time we’ve see them there seems like they’re a bit more attached than i originally thought. there’s a chance they meet before hand but why always that late at night? why aren’t they ever at home alone? unless...they live together. i mean it’s a perfectly valid suspicion right now as we’ve never seen either of their homes and we’ve never seen either of them turn up anywhere alone but either way it confirms they spend an awful lot of time together in general life. going back to my original point of them not only turning up and leaving together but they also never leave each other’s sides. there’s a heap of frames that you can see them standing together watching a beef or even just them talking. they’re literally attached at the hip and nothing makes me happier.

the creators of the show have made countless points to show that joe and cherry have a lot of history. from the school references to the fact they have TRAVELLED THE WORLD TOGETHER. they could have just shown one or two so we know that as a general fact they’ve known each other a long time but they bring it up an awful lot for it to be just a general fact. this being shown so much let’s us know that this is important information and that they’ve obviously wanting to lay down a foundation to bring something crucial up. so far they have mentioned their social studies trip, a school excursion, joes love for haunted houses, holiday to La and the Paris bar they went to. now you might be thinking, oh they were in the same school they probably just went on a trip together nothing confirms they were close, well i am here to prove that statement false. joe said he found cherry’s wallet, this not only shows that joe was close to cherry when he lost it but also that he knew where to find it, showing how well he knew cherry. another point is that legal age to drink in Paris is 18 so unless they had fake ID it’s safe to say this is a trip they’ve done since becoming adults and leaving school. it’s also canon that have gone together, so the fact they’ve been travelling as adults together is quite interesting. same with the restaurant in LA, sounds kinda like a date.

over the course of the episodes we’ve seen so far there has been a few comments they have made to each other that suggest a little bit of jealousy. for cherry, these comments are made in episode 6 in the hot spring. cherry brings up joes love for haunted houses and then joe agrees and says it’s because “chicks get scared and grab onto me” * with a smirk *. now what’s interesting about this is cherry’s response. “you really are a scumbag” this insult feels a lot more insulting than usual and the response itself surprised me. at this moment cherry looks away from joe which is an action people tend to do when they’re hurt or pissed off. either works in this scenario but neither make much sense as we know cherry’s already aware of joes status with girls. so why was he mad? well this was obviously a fond memory of cherry’s and joe replying with a statement about girls probably made him a bit angry because that was supposed to be their memory. but joes smirk with the comment makes me rethink, did he state that on purpose to make cherry jealous? obviously we can’t be sure but the entire encounter left me a bit confused. now onto joes jealousy, in episode 2 dub joe says “dude, you’re talking to a machine?” now in context this seems like joe is partially bewildered by the fact cherry is casually talking to his AI skateboard but he also seems slightly jealous that cherry is talking to carla instead of talking to him. this is one of the only scenes where joes facial expressions actually seem insulted rather than just having a bit of fun. he follows this up with “figured you’d give your board a girls name seeing as you can’t get a real one!” why can’t he get a real one? we hear tonnes of girls screaming compliments at cherry when he turns up so he definitely could get a girlfriend if he wanted, and joe no doubt knows this too, so why would he use it as an insult? i’m not sure what to make of this but it’s got to be a factor somewhere.

more on the haunted mansion chit chat, the line about chicks grabbing onto joe is quite funny when you look at the entire scene, because as soon as they get jumped they grabbed onto each other in fear. seems a little ironic if i do say so myself.

they both seem very secluded about their personal lives. cherry more specifically does not like the use of his skate name in his personal life or vice versa. joe is the only one we have seen to be aware or use cherry’s real name. the way joe slips up and calls cherry ‘kaoru’ at “S” shows how close they are and how much time they spend together to be able to accidentally mix up the two parts of their lives. this is just an extra point on how conjoined their lives must really be. in the photo above we see how cherry easily calms joe down when he starts to get annoyed. joe is the only one who knows fully about cherry’s life as emotions and cherry is the same for joe.

now one of the most heart wrenching matcha blossom scenes is when joe finds cherry at the ocean view. i have a lot to say about this so let’s start at the beginning. first of all, joe noticed cherry was missing. it’s not like cherry was there for a massive amount of time, so joe noticing that cherry was gone for even as much as an hour or two really says a lot about the placement they have in each other’s lives. there was really no reason for joe to worry about where cherry was considering they’re grown adults but he continued to go out and find him anyways. this is also set in the late afternoon judging by the sky, whereas the previous scene had been set at night at “s”, so this is suggesting the ocean view scene is on a completely different normal day for them (another factor showing how much time they spend together). next, the fact joe knew exactly where to find cherry. this truly shows how much they know and how connected they are to each other but also how well they understand the others coping mechanisms. cherry was dwelling on memories from 7 years ago and yet joe still knew exactly what he was doing and what he was thinking about. plus cherry didn’t even seem surprised when joe turns up. but one thing i noticed is that in this scene is the way they (in this case, didn’t) hold eye contact. while cherry is faced away, joe is staring at him but as soon as cherry meets joes eyes, joe turns away. either joe didn’t want to be caught staring or joe realised something crucial in that moment. i’ll let your mind decide what that is.

obviously, miyas comment about joe and cherry being his parents is a light hearted joke just to ruin joes chances of flirting with girls but it also implies that the group can tell that joe and cherry are respectively closer than anyone originally thought and they perhaps have caught on that the tension between them is a little bit too gay to be just a bit of banta. obviously in this scene we then see joe looking at cherry’s legs while a blush clearly intensifies on his face. yeah no, this is self explanatory.

one of the things i like about joe and cherry’s relationship is the fact that within that joe also has a somewhat dynamic with carla. although carla is non-living, there has been several interactions between them. for example the beginning of episode 6 on the boat joe recognises carlas voice immediately. i mean straight off i think it’s suspicious as hell that they all happened to be going there at the same time but the fact joe realised cherry must be there because of the sound of an AI skateboard? that’s impressive. also, at the beginning of the series carla is aware of who joe is when calling joe an imbecile, this shows that cherry has obviously had this modified to specifically refer to joe as joe rather than just refer to him as a general person.

there was a popular tiktok i saw the other day (if anyone has the username of the person please tell me so i can credit them!!) and it showed the two images above. in these photos it shows joes skateboard and his odd looking wheels. the creator of this video further analysed that these reflect the general outlook of a cherry blossom flower. though the actual wheels in real life don’t look as similar to a flower as they do in the show. but now if this is what they’re meant to look like, this is a really sentimental fact and shows how highly joe thinks of cherry in his skating career. but what about his personal life? well that’s where my analysing comes in. i noticed in the dessert joe makes in episode 5 he had a range of fruits displayed on the top as well as a single flower. this flower looks identical to a cherry blossom. once again the reflection of cherry within joes life makes an appearance. we’ve seen that flowers actually mean something in this show (toxic example but adam’s red roses for langa) so it would make sense for this to actually mean something about their relationship. i studied a range of Japanese desserts and, although every chef works differently, most of the dishes tend to only have a display of fruits and no flowers. so i have come to the conclusion that this dish certainly had some symbolism to cherry in joes life, some way or another.

so overall, their dynamic already shows that they have a very thin and mistakable line between very close best friends and potential lovers. although some of this was based off personal interpretation the majority is cinematic displays and general facts. so take this and use it however you like. let me know your opinions and other factors you have! for all i know i could be completely disproven with the next few episodes but surely if this many people see a bit more than just a friendship there’s got to be a reason for it.

if we can have one lgbt+ character... why not two more?

[autisticlancemcclain]

as an autistic she/they individual your lance is SO SPECIAL & VALIDATING like you don't even know, i love them sobs 😭💞

i am so honoured you like them and bc you’re so nice (and u took the time to send me an ask omg??) i wrote u smth special please enjoy!!

Hunk was making dinner when Lance slipped quietly into the kitchen, hefting himself up onto a part of the counter Hunk wasn’t using. Hunk didn’t even look up, as this wasn’t unusual — contrary to the popular belief, Lance wasn’t ‘on’ all the time, and often had moments where he just wanted to sit quietly with some friendly company.

Maybe if Hunk had been paying a little more attention, he would have noticed how still Lance was sitting. He might have picked up on the tenseness of Lance’s shoulders. He wishes he had been paying attention, because maybe he’d be a smidge more prepared for what Lance was about to say.

“Hunk, I think I’m a horrible person,” Lance blurts. Hunk freezes, dropping his knife.

Shit.

He swallows, carefully keeping his tone even. “Why, buddy?”

“I think I’m an attention-seeking copycat who’s incapable of feeling real emotions and having real thoughts so I just steal everyone else’s and pass it off as my own and I fake experiences for validation. So. A shitty person.”

Oh, so that’s what this is.

Lance has maybe the worst case of imposter syndrome of anyone Hunk has ever met. His self-esteem is so ground zero that it takes herculean effort for him to believe he is capable of anything good, so he tends to spiral if he thinks too much about his accomplishments.

Hunk specifically remembers the day the two of them received the results from their Garrison entry exams and accompanying acceptance letters. Both of them had done exceptionally well, scoring a ninety-six, because they were both exceptionally bright people. Lance, however, had gotten it into his head that he was much dumber than Hunk, and couldn’t reconcile that belief with the high marks, so he spent two weeks convincing himself he must have cheated off of Hunk’s paper, even though Lance had studied just as hard and would never put their academic careers at risk like that. In those two weeks, he was quiet and tense and miserable and afraid to argue or speak up for himself. It was like he thought that if he made himself completely complacent to everyone, they wouldn’t hate him so much for cheating — something that hadn’t even happened.

Hunk remembered how relieved he was when Lance had finally cracked and spilled everything to Hunk, and he was able to show him their tests side by side and assure him that he had not ripped Hunk off, but was equally as smart and deserving of his spot. He may not have fixed Lance’s insecurity, but Lance had at least started acting like himself again, endearing boisterousness and all.

Hunk had noticed the same thing happening over the past few weeks. Ever since the diplomatic mission on Exalceer, Lance had been withdrawn. He didn’t spend much time with anyone, and did an abundance of chores, like he felt as if he could make up for his very presence by being everyone’s servant. He wasn’t even bickering with Keith — Hunk knew because the Red Paladin himself had swallowed his pride and asked Hunk what was wrong, admitting he missed their petty arguments and was worried that Lance hadn’t started anything or even responded to Keith’s light goading in a while. Hunk was glad Lance was finally cracking and approaching him about it, even though it was always hard to hear what mean things were happening in Lance’s head.

“I’d like to say first off that I don’t agree with that at all, but I’ll hear you out. Why do you think you’re attention-seeking and incapable of being your own person?”

Lance but his lip. “You remember how the Exalceeran’s didn’t have males? Just women and non-women?”

Hunk nodded. It was kind of funny — they were completely floored by the mostly-male Voltron team, and referred to them either by name, or with feminine or gender neutral pronouns. They could not conceptualize a man — the idea was simply too foreign for them.

“Uh, well, they couldn’t really pronounce my name,” Lance continued, “The ‘ss’ sound at the end was too hard for them. So they mostly called me Blue Paladin or just with she or they pronouns. And. Well. It made me feel — different. Like, my heart kept pounding every time they did and I wanted them to keep saying it, which was weird, because I don’t feel that way for any other pronouns? I didn’t really know what to make of it, so I did some research and apparently feeling like that is called gender euphoria, and it’s mostly — um, it’s mostly a trans thing.”

Lance said the last part so quietly Hunk almost missed it. But he did hear it, and Hunk can feel his thoughts begin to race. He — he knows how to deal with the imposter syndrome thing, he’s done it dozens of times before. But this? He’s been waiting years for Lance to talk to him about this. Years.

Lance is generally a very observant person. No one else would have noticed that something was up with Rover, and no one else has the skills to look into an upcoming army of sentries that look virtually identical and notice which ones are deadlier and need to be killed off first. Lance truly has observational skills that are beyond the scope of normal or even good. They’re seriously mind-blowing.

But Lance’s skill does not work on himself. Lance is usually very bad at noticing something off on his own person — it took him years to realise he wasn’t straight. Hunk literally had to tell him point-blank that the ‘friendship letter’ he had written towards his tenth-grade crush was, in fact, a love letter, and he did, in fact, have a crush on the boy. It was something Hunk regretted, since it seemed to push Lance more into the closet instead of helping him come out. Hunk vowed to let Lance come to him, next time, so he wouldn’t drop the ball again.

That’s why Hunk has been waiting for Lance to come and say that he maybe doesn’t feel so much like a boy. He only wished that it wasn’t entangled in so much fear and self-hatred, although he supposes he shouldn’t have expected Lance to handle it with ease. Change tends to be hard for him.

Before Hunk could say anything, Lance spoke up again, voice a little shakey, the way it did when he was upset and trying to power through it.

“And so I figured I’d ask Pidge about it? ‘Cause she just came out? But she said she’s known she was trans her whole life because being called a boy always felt super wrong. And I realized I started feeling like this a couple days after she came out, and I’ve never felt… wrong, really, being a boy.”

Hunk felt the ball of dread in his stomach grow heavier as he sensed what was coming. His own breath hitched as tears started to drip down Lance’s face.

“So I must be faking. And what kind of jackass fakes being trans? God, fuck, am I transphobic too?” Lance choked on a sob, and Hunk couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Lance. You are not a faker. You are not an attention-seeker. And you’re especially not a transphobe because you realised you were trans after hearing a friend come out.”

“But I’ve never been anything but a boy before! I didn’t know anything was wrong!” Lance argued.

Despite the situation, Hunk couldn’t hold back a fond smile.

“Lance, do you remember Lela?”

The pain on Lance’s face morphed into confusion. “Who’s Lela?”

Hunk wiped his hands on a towel, then hoisted himself up on the counter next to Lance.

“I thought you might not remember. ‘Lela’ was the name you went by whenever you dressed up in your sisters’ clothes, when we were little.”

Lance looked bewildered. “I don’t remember that. I mean, I vaguely remember dress-up games, but not… that.”

Hunk grinned. “When we were really small, we’d play dress up all the time, and you’d almost always wear skirts or dresses, high heels, all that stuff. I was pretty happy wearing your brother’s stuff, but you loved wearing anything from your sister’s closet. And whenever you were wearing a skirt, you’d insist your name was Lela, and you wouldn’t answer to Leandro. Said you were a girl, and that was your girl name.”

Lance’s jaw dropped. “Really?” he asked breathlessly. Hunk nodded.

“There were lots of other things, too. I’m pretty sure every favourite fictional character you’ve ever admired has been a woman,” Hunk continued, laughing softly. “You got into a huge argument with Marco, once. He was saying something about Superman being the strongest D.C. hero, and you must have gone on for hours explaining how there were fifteen way cooler heroines that could grind him to the ground. You never really could see yourself in male characters.”

Lance had begun to cry again, but this time it wasn’t so self-hating. He honestly looked like he felt seen, for the first time in his life. He looked free.

“I don’t remember any of that. I didn’t know I was so… feminine.”

Hunk pulled Lance into a huge hug.

“Lance, buddy, you have got to stop invalidating yourself. Not every trans person feels dysphoric their whole life. Some of them are fine with the gender they’re assigned, but feel better when they identify a different way. And sometimes, maybe, they really did feel bad and dysphoric growing up,” Hunk suggested, “But they didn’t have a name for that pain.”

Lance’s shoulders shook, and he started to sob. Hunk reached up to pet his hair.

“Lance, I think you’ve been suffering for a long time, and didn’t let yourself realise. I think you repressed parts of yourself to save you from your own judgement. You struggle so, so much to just believe yourself, that I think you convinced yourself that anything you feel has to be stolen from someone else. You’re allowed to just be, Lance. You don’t have to convince yourself or anyone else that you’re worth the space you take up.”

Lance sobbed harder.

“I’m not a boy, Hunk. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not,” Lance said between hitching breaths. Hunk clutched him tighter, trying to convey all his love and support through their embrace.

“I know, Lance. I know.”

They held on to each other for several moments before Lance pulled away, wiping his tears.

“Lance,” Hunk said softly, “Do you want me to start using she or they pronouns for you?”

“God, yes,” Lance sniffed, rubbing her eyes. “Both. Please.”

Hunk grinned.

“I’m so glad my best friend is finally happy with herself,” he said, and the smile that lit up Lance’s face was literally breathtaking.

“That felt really good,” they admitted quietly. “I kind of want everyone to use those pronouns.”

Hunk hopped off the counter, and threw an arm around Lance’s shoulder.

“Sounds good! You can maybe tell them during dinner?”

Lance nodded shyly, grabbing Hunk’s hand to squeeze once before letting go.

“I don’t think I’ll change my name again, though,” she said thoughtfully. “I think my change from Leandro to Lance may have been a gender thing before I realized. That would explain why I like it so much, and why people using my dead —“ he tripped over the word, hesitant but determined — “deadname bothered me so much.”

Hunk patted Lance’s back, nodding.

“Yeah, sounds about right. Now — let’s go over how you want to tell everyone while we finish up the food — I love you, Lance, and I’m so proud of you, but no one is going to stand in this kitchen and not help me make dinner. Whether they’ve just come from an identity crisis or not.”

Lance grinned involuntarily at the pronoun, feeling the butterflies burst in her chest.

She couldn’t wait to hear it again and again.

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette tried not to be obvious with her annoyance, but it was difficult when she knew that Lila had come to the Liberty specifically to irritate her. It wasn't even her paranoia creeping up, as Lila had made it clear from their first day of face-to-face interaction that she wanted to make Marinette's life miserable. The worst part was that everyone else either believed her or tolerated her, meaning Marinette looked unreasonable no matter what she did to combat it.

She figured she should've known that Luka would be Lila’s next target. The Liberty had always felt like somewhat of a safe haven - funny, considering who owned it - so it had only been a matter of time until Lila had heard enough to decide to show up there.

"Oh, she seemed so curious to actually be on a houseboat! She's only ever been on yachts and stuff before! How could we say 'no'?

Marinette tried to keep her lips shut tight so the gritting of her teeth wasn't seeable to anyone. The best she could do was watch from afar and keep any unkind comments internal while vaguely fantasizing about being Ladybug and dumping Lila in the garbage where she belonged.

Luka, to his credit, didn't seem to take Lila's bait like everyone else. She'd sought him out and he technically listened to her (as she lied about all the music people she knew and all the connections she could give him), but he was mostly occupied with tuning his guitar, only giving her a vague noise every now and then to signal that he was listening.

It was one of Marinette's few joys of the day, which made it twice as infuriating when Lila ruined it.

"Anyway, Luka," Lila added, her voice saccharine and fake, "I really hope you and I can become great friends."

Luka's eyebrow twitched.

"And don't worry, I would never force you. I know there are some people like that, who want to make everything go their way—"

Marinette knew it was a jab at her even though she definitely wasn't that kind of person; from Lila's point of view though, of course she'd think that.

Lila continued, "but I'd never do that to you, okay? I promise!"

For the first time since she'd been talking to him, Luka turned to her, his expression somewhere between neutral and the annoyance he showed at listening to XY's "version" of Kitty Section's music. "Can you please—"

He didn't get to finish that sentence, as Lila suddenly leaned in to kiss him. Luka jerked away the moment it registered with him, but it was already too late; the contact had been made.

All the anger that had been stewing in Marinette's stomach bubbled to the surface. She stormed over, her body language confrontational as she asked, "What do you think you're doing?!"

The outburst had gotten the attention of the other girls. Though they hadn't seen it, what happened was obvious given the way Luka was covering his mouth.

Lila turned to face Marinette, sinking to that vulnerable state she used so much whenever she got caught. "I-I didn't mean to! I meant to kiss his cheek and he turned too quickly."

It was a lie, and Marinette knew it. Lila had intentionally said things to make Luka look at her so she could kiss him, all to irritate Marinette.

"You see..." Lila pressed her palm to her cheek. "I-I thought a cheek kiss would be okay. You don't seem like the type of person who would be close to someone like him, and everyone told me that you do it all the time."

Marinette was fuming at the implication, feeling personally insulted at the idea that she and Luka weren't close.

And they'd told her. Her friends had been gossiping about her to Lila, or at least telling her details, which Marinette herself had definitely not consented to.

She went to toss a glare her friends' way, but they were already rushing forward to assure Lila that everything was okay, with Marinette having to step away or risk getting knocked back with the way they formed around her.

"M-maybe I need to re-learn French customs. I spent so long away from the country and other places have—"

Marinette wasn't listening anymore. She knew how this went and didn't want to be around to see another repeat of it, nor her friends potentially shouting at her. She turned away with a frustrated exhale, speed-stomping away and going up the stairs to head outside.

Passing by the cabin, she went into the greenhouse-esque area with all of the larger plants, plopping down on the long flower-patterned seating with a heavy sigh. She'd fallen right into Lila's trap, again, and couldn't help being angry at the whole situation.

Going after her was one thing, but Luka? And to kiss him like that on top of trying to lure him in with her deceit? Marinette knew deep down that she had a right to be upset at Lila's actions, but the way she reacted to it just ended up making Lila look like the victim instead of Luka. Had she failed him?

She groaned into her clasped hands, imagining that Luka must've thought that she looked like a fool shouting like that. She liked to think that she would've done things differently had she been able to do it again, but she was still angry and honestly just wanted to go off on Lila again.

She didn't move, though briefly considered going home. After all, it'd be pointless going back downstairs, as she'd probably just end up being glared at and blamed for Lila being upset. Luka probably didn't want to see her either after that display anyway.

As if her concerns had summoned him, she suddenly heard his voice call out to her from nearby. "Marinette?"

She stiffened, then lowered her hands enough to peek at him. When none of the negative emotions she expected showed on his face, she lowered them the rest of the way.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

She straightened, jaw slack that's that what he was concerned about. "Am I okay? What about you?!" She gestured wildly to him. "That—that akuma-luring harpy just kissed you!"

She realized what she said and covered her mouth, knowing that it was a much more direct insult than she usually would've gone with. Luka, however, tried to suppress a laugh from it, snorting loudly into his hand.

"I—" He cut himself off, still chuckling too much to speak. After a few seconds, he took a breath to calm down, then gave her a calm smile and continued, "I washed my mouth out, just to make sure."

Marinette tried to keep her negative emotions at the forefront, but then she was trying to suppress her laughter as well. She almost felt bad about it, but the wide grin on Luka's face showed that he'd fully intended for her to have that reaction. He walked over, taking a seat down next to her and leaning forward to maintain eye contact.

He waited until she quieted herself down with a final squeak that he asked again, "Really, are you okay?"

The smile she had on from laughter faded, though her spirits were still much higher than before. "Not really. She—she's always doing that." She glanced at him. "Let me guess, they're catering to her?"

He nodded. "They're planning on having lunch without you since you—" He made a face, clearly displeased. "—'made her so upset.'" He stared out of the glass opposite of them. "I wasn't going to join them."

"You didn't have to do that," she said, though her voice was soft from being touched by the gesture.

He gave her a smile. "I know, but I'd rather have lunch with you than with everyone else and that—" He smirked. "—'harpy.'"

Marinette tried to bite back a smile of her own, but couldn't. Hearing the pure-hearted Luka say an insult so brazenly, even if he was just parroting her own, was too funny not to smile at.

"Thanks~" she said gratefully.

"I should be thanking you," he argued. He leaned back in his seat, but didn't stop looking at her. "For being so upset on my behalf."

She blushed, looking away with both shyness and embarrassment. "I-I was really loud though."

"You play your song for everyone to hear, Marinette. I love that about you."

She blushed deeper, mentally cursing his smoothness. "How are you so okay with this?"

"I'm not," he replied, "not really, but..." He shrugged. "That kiss didn't mean anything to me. It wasn't real."

She looked over at him, frowning. "T-that was your first though, wasn't it?"

His brows rose in surprise, his face telling her everything she needed to know even before he responded. "...Well, yeah."

Now that she'd had it officially confirmed, Marinette bristled. "It's not right!" She huffed and turned to him, throwing her arms out. "Your first kiss is supposed to be special and with someone you really love! It's not supposed to just be stolen from you like that!"

He touched a hand to his chest, clearly touched by her passionate anger. She turned red and forced herself to look away from him, finding it hard to stay angry when he stared at her that way.

"...And I know you were already pretty upset with her, I could see it," she explained, "so it wasn't like I felt like I had to get angry for you, but still. She doesn't care what anyone thinks and I'm mad at her for kissing you like that and I'm mad at me because she only did it to get on my nerves and I know I shouldn't be mad at me because she's just mad that I won't fall for her lies but I'm mad anyway because I still let her rile me up when that's exactly what she wanted." Burying her face in her hands, she whined and added, "I guess I wasn't jealous at least - not in that way anyway - since I'd never want to do anything to you without your permission like she did, but I know she meant for me to get to jealous because I just—"

She cut herself off, the words clogging up her throat and forcing her to swallow them. She raked her fingers through her hair, mentally debating with herself if she really wanted to tell Luka everything.

But of course she did. Not only did he deserve it, but she felt responsible for her feelings and it was her fault that things happened the way they did, even if it was indirect on her part.

"I..." She closed her eyes and sighed, her voice lowering itself to a whisper. Hunching over, she wrung her hands together and admitted quietly, "I wanted to be your first kiss..."

Silence took over the conversation from there, but she understood. She just dropped a bomb on him and couldn't expect him to reply right away, so she let the seconds drag on without any judgment on her part.

Eventually, she heard the sound of Luka sliding himself closer, so close that the side of his hand briefly touched her leg. He inhaled softly like he was about to speak, stopped, then tried again.

"You... you what?"

She steeled herself up, the words only slightly easier to say than before. "I wanted to be your first kiss. I-I'm selfish, and I know that. Everyone knows it, and that's why—"

His hand touched her leg again. She briefly jumped in surprise, then realized moments later that the touch was intentional this time, as he'd fully settled his hand on her leg. Fighting against her nerves, she turned to look at him and saw how relaxed his expression was.

"You can be selfish."

"W-what?"

"It makes me happy. It means that—" He paused, his cheeks tinting pink as he smiled wide. "—you really want me."

It almost sounded like a question the way he said it, his eyes distant only in a way that implied that he's still absorbing what she'd said.

Her chest filled with hope as she squeaked out, "I...I do. Of course I do." Looking down at the hand on her lap, she placed her own onto it and gave it a squeeze. "But..."

The hope twisted and fought with the shame attempting to take its place, memories of the past coming back to haunt her. She averted her gaze fully, staring off at nothing in particular. "I-I can't give you my first kiss." She squeezed his hand tighter, as if that made anything better. "There was this akuma, and I had to... I mean—"

She felt his hand shifting in hers and immediately worried that she'd squeezed it too hard. She loosened her grip, only to feel his hand turn itself around to hold her hand back, pressing their palms together. The motion made her look back and make eye contact with him.

"Then that wasn't real either, was it?" he asked gently. Giving a fond glance down at their joined hands, he added, "This might be more Rose's type of music than mine, but I think the only kisses that have to matter are the ones that you put meaning into playing."

She gaped. It was still registering with her that he was not only okay with her crushing on him, but still returned it. "S-so... it's not any different? You'd let me kiss you anyway?"

"I never thought about first kisses or second kisses, or any verses beyond that," he told her, placing his other hand on top of their joined ones. "I only care about your kisses."

Marinette's cheeks turned crimson, and she nearly burst into happy laughter. She settled for beaming at him, still amazing at how easily he could ease all of her worries and doubts.

"Then... I'll give you all of them."

She shifted, continuing to hold his hand while her other went to his face. He leaned into her touch, making her all the more eager to pull him in. He didn't protest when she did, his hand moving away from their joined ones to grab her shoulder.

They kissed. Marinette was momentarily surprised when Luka's lips seemed to have a hint of wetness to them, only to realize that he'd meant it when he said that he'd washed his mouth out. She giggled mid-kiss, positively delighted to have someone like him, and he responded to the sound with a soft noise of content. She stroked his cheek with her thumb, then slid her hand down to his neck to urge him closer. He did the same with her shoulder, pulling her in and deepening the contact.

It took a few seconds of internal debate for her to convince herself to break the kiss to talk to him, and she enjoyed the slight whine he made as she did so.

"Better than Lila?" she asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it regardless.

"Definitely," he replied without hesitation, leaning in to touch his forehead to hers.

She hummed. "Mm, good." She pulled him back in for a smaller, quicker kiss that was no less loving than the last. Full of confidence, she felt it safe to say, "I should always be playing my boyfriend's favorite song."

His reaction was immediate, his eyes sparkling and his smile wide. She blushed red, overwhelmed and half-regretting saying anything. He was just too much.

"What is it?" he asked when she averted her gaze.

"P-please stop smiling like that," she whined.

"I can't," he said. More to himself than her, he added cheerfully, "I'm your boyfriend."

"Luka!"

[kemendin]

OC Interview Questions

Snagged this from @grandninjamasterren​! Tagging @jacksothereye​ @xanthouransong​ @yarpell​ @fanthings​ @sweetearthandnorthernsky​ @radbeetle​ @portergage​ and/or anybody else who wants to give it a go

Name? I figure if you’re interviewing me, you should know this. Just for the record, if you would. Alright, alright. Caspian Serapis. Though a lot of people seem to think it’s ‘Commander’.

Are you single? No. [Serapis smiles lightly.] I’d say sorry, but I’m not sorry at all. Would you tell us about your partner? I don’t think he’d appreciate that. He likes his privacy. [Serapis pauses.] And his space. [This seems to be a joke of some kind but it’s unclear how.]

Are you happy? Deep down, yeah, I’d say so. Much as the galaxy keeps trying to interfere with that.

Are you angry? Angry? [Serapis appears to think for a moment.] No, not anymore. Not regularly, anyway.

Are your parents still married? As far as I know. So you haven’t been in regular contact with them? [Serapis shakes his head.] Call it a Jedi habit, if you want.

NINE FACTS

Birth place? Corellia.

Hair colour? You tell me, unless you’ve got a mirror handy. [Serapis rolls his eyes.]

Eye colour? Lighting’s a bit off in here so I’ll give you this one. Grey.

Birthday? Yes.

Mood? Right now? We’ll say ‘restless’. How many of these questions are there? Quite a few, sir. I was afraid of that. Go on, then.

Gender? Male, last I checked.

Summer or winter? Summer, no question. I hate being cold.

Morning or afternoon? I like mornings. Feels more like there’s something to look forward to, you know?

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE?

Are you in love? Oh, now you’re chucking me into the deep end of it, I see. [Serapis rubs his thumb over what looks like an ornament of Sith origin that hangs in his hair on the right side of his face. It takes him a few seconds to answer.] Yeah, I am. Deeply, desperately, delightedly. All those D words. [He smirks.] Plus another one I won’t actually say here.

Do you believe in love at first sight? Not really. Attraction, sure, but real love takes time.

Who ended your last relationship? I guess I did. [Serapis looks down for a second.] But it just sort of... fell apart quietly. It’s fine, though. We’re still friends.

Have you ever broken someone’s heart? A couple of times, I think.

Are you afraid of commitments? Not particularly. Sometimes I worry about the consequences, but... it’s better to actually commit than to let something hang uncertainly.

Have you hugged someone within the last week? Yes. Who was it? My partner. And also my friend Kira. Actually she hugged me first, I just responded.

Have you ever had a secret admirer? [Serapis laughs ruefully.] I’m sure I’ve got at least a hundred of them right now. Side effect of being such a well-known figure in the galaxy.

Have you ever broken your own heart? More than I’d care to admit. And no, I’m not elaborating on that.

SIX CHOICES

Love or lust? Can’t I have both? Alright, well, love I guess, but lust makes it fun sometimes.

Lemonade or iced tea? Iced tea, I think.

Cats or dogs? [Serapis shrugs.] I’m not really an animal person. They’re both fine.

A few best friends or many regular friends? A few best friends. They know who they are.

Wild night out or romantic night in? Romantic night in. I’ve spent way too many wild nights out there already. And not even in the fun way. What would you do on this hypothetical night in? Have a drink or two, just talk, really. We’ve still got a lot of missed time to make up for.

Day or night? Nights feel better to me. Calmer. Used to be the other way around, though.

FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS

Been caught sneaking out? [Serapis laughs a bit.] Oh yes. I was a chronic case as a Padawan, always getting into places I shouldn’t have been. To be fair, I got better at the ‘not getting caught’ part. [He gives a mischievous look towards the camera.] Right, Master?

Fallen down/up the stairs? I mean, probably, I can’t remember any specific incidents though.

Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? F***, yes. Finally got there in the end, but it was torture for literal years. [Serapis touches the Sith ornament again.]

Wanted to disappear? Does now count? [Serapis snorts quietly.] No, honestly, sometimes I wish I could disappear for a bit just to get away from all the people who keep throwing the fate of the galaxy at me like I’m the only one who can deal with that.

FOUR PREFERENCES

Smile or eyes? Eyes, definitely.

Shorter or taller? I’ll say taller.

Intelligence or attraction? Intelligence will always win out there.

Hook-up or relationship? Relationship, no question. Hook-ups are fine, but I like something that’s going to last a while.

FAMILY

Do you and your family get along? Reasonably. My brother and I don’t always see eye to eye. Why is that? He’s very... patriotic, about the Republic. Let’s just leave it there.

Would you say you have a “messed up life”? Is that a serious question? Yes. Well, let’s think about this. Consider my history, and the absolutely insane things I’ve somehow managed to do - stopping planets from being blown up, defeating dozens of Sith, de-throning emperors.... and those are just the big ones. Getting frozen in carbonite for five years seems positively mundane in comparison, doesn’t it? Is that messed up enough, or shall I go on?

Have you ever run away from home? A couple of times. Not for long, though.

Have you ever gotten kicked out? No, much to my surprise. There was a point in my training where I seriously thought I was going to get tossed out of the Jedi Order. Why was that? Did I mention the part where I was a difficult Padawan? Just being Force-sensitive doesn’t mean that life comes easily to someone. I was stubborn about it. It took the right mentor to help me find where I fit in with the Jedi way.

FRIENDS

Do you secretly hate one of your friends? [Serapis raises his eyebrows.] If I hate someone, I’m not friends with them.

Do you consider all of your friends good friends? If by ‘good’ you mean ‘good people’, then yes. That’s why I’m friends with them. If you’re talking ‘close’, well, some are closer than other. Like with everybody.

Who is your best friend? [Serapis grins.] He’s going to hate me for calling him out like this. Theron Shan. Notorious ex-SIS agent, the super-spy himself. [Serapis blows a kiss to the camera.] No, but honestly - he’s a good man. One of the best, professionally and personally. I’d be dead a dozen times over without him.

Who knows everything about you? I don’t think I even know everything about me. Isn’t that what life is about? Figuring out who you are? Which I’m still very much working on, for the record.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 305: Worst Intervention Ever

Previously on BnHA: Shinomori, whose name took me an entire week to memorize, was all, “nice to meet you Deku, I’m ten feet tall, do you want to know how I died?” and without waiting for an answer explained that he kicked it from old age at forty thanks to good ol’ OFA. Deku was all “wait a minute, then how come All Might, who’s fifty-five and is definitely dyeing his gray hair, is still alive?” First and Shino were all, “we really have no fucking clue but we think it’s cuz he’s quirkless, JUST LIKE YOU!” So basically, since quirkless people don’t exactly grow on trees these days, Deku is probably going to be the last user of OFA. The chapter ended with Nana being all, “psst, Deku, about my grandson. Uh, can you kill him?” which is sure to lead to a very interesting conversation this week.

Today on BnHA: Nana And The Gang are all “so, Deku, how can we put this delicately. The thing is, we’re pretty sure that AFO really fucked my grandson up, so on the off chance you can’t save him, how would you feel about, you know... [throat slitting gesture].” Deku is all “idk you guys, I kinda feel like he’s really just a traumatized child at heart and he’s in a lot of pain and stuff and so I should try to help him.” The Vestiges are all “BUT WHAT IF YOU CAN’T” and Deku is all “BUT I WANT TO TRY, DAMMIT” and the Vestiges are all “well when you put it that way, we, uh, were just testing you, so congrats, you passed!” The chapter ends with First being all, “ANYWAY SO WHY DON’T YOU TWO SHY BOYS STANDING OVER THERE IN THE SHADOWS COME SAY HELLO” before we CUT AWAY FOR ANOTHER WEEK, goddammit.

seriously, Nana

just... have you met Deku?? look, if you really want Tomura dead, just sic him on the U.A. first years and tell Shouto and Honenuki that it’s a training exercise

oh my god lmao

we’re too far away to see Nana’s face here so I will just assume that she turned and is staring DIRECTLY INTO THE CAMERA for this one line lmao. “I just wanted to clarify in case anyone felt inclined to take my dialogue out of context and spend an entire week complaining about it”

oh my god?! are you all purposely trying to make me sad??

someone stop me before I launch into an impromptu rant about all my Tomura feels. WHY IS NOBODY STOPPING ME. oh my god but yes, exactly. he’s just in pain all the time. this is exactly why I think Tomura has such high redemption potential even though so far he seems to lack so many of the redemption arc essentials such as feeling remorse, wanting to change, and taking responsibility for his actions. the reason why I’m willing to overlook all that in his case is because Tomura has essentially had zero agency his entire life. AFO molded him into a killer by making sure he was in constant mental agony, and making it so that the only thing that even slightly relieved that agony was killing peeps. like, please don’t think I’m making excuses for him or anything, but if you take a child and manipulate their existence to make it virtually impossible for that child to grow up as anything other than a killer, and basically never give him the chance to be anything else, then no shit he’s gonna be a killer?? he’s basically never had the choice not to be. it’s never been an option for him. anyways I feel like I am EXPLAINING MYSELF SO BADLY but nonetheless I am prepared to die on this hill

anyway so now Nana is all “that’s a rhetorical question btw because Our Hearts And Minds Are One so we can feel everything you feel bro.” so yeah, that’s interesting

now Banjou is getting started on the “let’s try and talk Deku out of wanting to save Tomura because it’s insane” part of their OFA Mystical Space Void Reunion agenda

look, Banjou, I feel you, I really do. you guys don’t think it’s realistic that Deku can defeat Tomura without killing him. so if it’s a choice between killing Tomura vs letting Deku and everyone else in the entire world die, then duh, you think Deku should kill him. I get it! and if this were a real life mass murderer I’d totally agree with you. but the problem is that this isn’t real life, this is a sympathetic shounen villain with a tragic past who might as well have FUTURE REDEMPTION ARC RECEIPIENT stamped on his forehead at this point

so First is all “look, there’s absolutely no doubt my brother has fucked this kid up good and proper by now”, which, again, fair

though, that’s kind of exactly my point though. everything that Tomura is, everything he’s done, he’s done because of AFO. AFO has so effectively shaped his personality and his worldview by this point that it’s all but impossible to penetrate that. he’s AFO’s puppet. but the problem is that rather than treating him like a victim, you all are treating him like a casualty. like he’s already a lost cause. but good luck trying to convince Deku of that

WHOA WHAT, RANDOM SUPER-IMPORTANT AND BIZARRELY UNRELATED EXPOSITION DROPPED IN JUST LIKE THAT??

way to still not reveal Sixth’s name, btw. THE PEOPLE WANT TO KNOW, DAMMIT. but also so this confirms something we basically already knew already, which is that not even AFO can steal OFA. it literally can’t be taken away by anyone unless the owner wills it. SO SUCK ON THAT AFO YOU EGG

(ETA: so I have no idea why this was omitted from this translation, but apparently the Sixth’s name was revealed as “En”, which is obviously not his full name but at least it’s something. also he most likely has a fire or smoke-related quirk based on the kanji used, 煙.)

so Banjou is saying that Deku’s “lack of an iron will” could be a disadvantage against AFO. hahaha what?? Midoriya “I’ll break all of my bones without blinking an eye just to protect someone” Izuku lacks an iron will? do tell

he says this is going to be a test of Deku’s determination. well yeah, no shit. but just not in the way you guys think

OH HELLO AGAIN

darker hair again here! but I don’t trust the contrast in these scans at all after last week. his coveralls are way darker than they looked before too, and you can clearly see he’s standing in the shadows now

(ETA: yep, once again the raw shows that his hair is considerably lighter than what’s shown in these scans here. although there’s no mistaking now that his hair is consistently being colored in this slightly darker shade, and it’s not just the lighting.)

anyways lol First was saying something about how AFO can’t steal OFA, and they’ve spent all this time cultivating it as the ultimate weapon against AFO, and blah blah blah. go on then, keep lecturing

NANA GODDAMMIT NONE OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT

girl what?? you did everything in your power to protect your family, and AFO, fucked up man that he is, targeted them anyway. there is one person and one person only to blame for what’s happened to Tomura, and that potato-faced asshole needs a good kick in the balls

NANA GODDAMMIT DON’T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE

SO HELP ME GOD!! I WILL GIVE YOU THE BIGGEST HUG YOU’VE EVER HAD!! THAT IS A THREAT

so now Nana is all “I’m just going to call my grandson a Thing to ensure that fandom has only the freshest, grass-fed no-hormones-added discourse this week”

I don’t even need to drop into the tags to know exactly which specific people are going to respond to this, and what kind of posts they are going to write lmao. everyone’s all caught up in the “that thing”, and meanwhile I’m over here completely hung up on this “nay” that’s appeared out of NOWHERE you guys. look at that. she really said “NAY”

Nana, my love, my dearest, I feel you girl I really do. but he’s not an unforgivable manifestation of pure evil, Deku is exactly right actually, he’s a boy in pain. you guys need to stop questioning Deku’s shounen protagonist instincts here and just let him work his sparkly magic. “let’s try and convince Midoriya Fucking Izuku that he can’t save someone” is a plan that is NEVER going to turn out well you guys

“DEKU GODDAMMIT WHAT IF WE CAN’T SAVE HIM” lmao it’s like an intervention

“DAMMIT DEKU JUST ADMIT YOU HAVE A SAVING PEOPLE PROBLEM!”

RED ALERT IT’S ANOTHER CLOSE-UP OF THE BACK OF MISTER TWO BON CLAY’S HEAD OMG

(ETA: I was too distracted with freaking out about Two and Three to really appreciate how ridiculously handsome First looks in this panel. but on my second readthrough it stood out so much that I had to go back and add an extra bullet point just to talk about how hot he is. look at him. wtf.)

THAT IS DEFINITELY AN UNDERCUT. THE PLOT THICKENSSSS. also those are fucking exhaust vents on Mister Three’s neck. MISTER THREE COULD YOU POSSIBLY BE RELATED TO THE IIDAS, PLEASE TELL ME YOUR SECRETS I’M DYING OVER HERE

so now Deku is launching into what will undoubtedly be a “saving people problems require SAVING PEOPLE SOLUTIONS” heroic counter-speech!

I mean, they can already feel the “lol nah I’m gonna try and save him” feelings running through him lol. ~OuR hEaRtS aNd MiNdS aRe CoNnEcTeD~ and all that. this is just a formality, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love a good shounen protag speech

oh wait hold up, do you mean to tell me that the whole “hearts and minds are connected” thing I was just mocking just a paragraph ago actually allowed Deku to feel what Tomura was feeling?? like literally feel it??

YET AGAIN these Tomura feels are pounding on my front door you guys?? they just will not quit?? people my house is already full of feels, does it look like I need you to sell me any more of them?? -- what do you mean, they’re free??

AW YISS THAT’S IT DEKU. THAT’S SOME GOOD SPEECH RIGHT THERE

I appreciate the contrast here between the Douchebag Triumvirate of Overhaul, Muscular, and Stain versus the Misguided Twosome of Gentle and La Brava. never let it be said that Deku doesn’t know the difference between a redeemable villain and an unredeemable one

OH NO -- OH MY GOD

someone please help me I need directions to the OFA Spooky Galactic Nebula Realm in this fictional Japanese manga land. it’s not on google maps. I need to give these two babies a big hug and wrap them up in a blanket and treat them to some McDonalds Happy Meals please help

other things: (1) ENDEAVOR CHILLING OUT IN DEKU’S “PEOPLE I HOLD DEAR” PANEL LMAO NEON DISCOURSE EXTRAVAGANZA, (2) “ONE FOR ALL IS A POWER TO SAVE, NOT TO KILL” I’M ABOUT TO CRY DEKU I LOVE YOU SO MUCH HOW IS IT EVEN POSSIBLE TO FEEL ALL THIS LOVE, (3) [SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE] THERE’S YOUR MOTHERFUCKING IRON WILL!!!!!!!! -- I’m sorry, please don’t call security, I’ll be good

I just randomly remembered that Deku is still saying all of this in his muffled “FMMPHHMMPHMM” voice and I’m somehow cracking up lol. so actually it’s a very good thing Their Hearts And Minds Are Connected, otherwise they’d no doubt be all, “...what?”

(ETA: so I completely missed this on account of it literally not being visible in the scan at all, but in the raw you can clearly see Baby Kacchan and Baby Shouto fanboying over All Might in two of these panels, and excuse me, ma’am??

thank you very much Deku for including them in your montage, particularly since you’ve never seen Baby Shouto before lol. amazingly accurate image you managed to conjure up, all things considered.)

SDKFJLSKHG -- AS IF ON CUE???

HE’S SO ADORABLE HELP?? Trippy Space All Might looks like he’s about to cry, and First is all “don’t crack a smile... you have to be Firm and Serious here... dammit, don’t smile” omg

anyways! YOU GO DEKU. “MY QUIRK MY RULES, BITCHES” damn, son

KLJLKKHLG TRIPPY SPACE ALL MIGHT LITERALLY ACTUALLY IS CRYING ALL MIGHT HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

“I JUST... [CLENCHES FIST] REALLY LOVE SAVING PEOPLE” FUCKING HELL LMAO THIS IS THE WORST INTERVENTION OF ALL TIME

Deku is literally all “sure, maybe I’ll have to kill him, but have you guys also considered, MAYBE NOT??” it’s no use Nana he’s too powerful

LMAO FIRST

“like I’ve been saying this whole time, you should definitely try saving Shigaraki Tomura.” “but, uh... First, didn’t you just -- ” “shut up”

(ETA: clearly it’s not just his brother who inherited those smooth-talking genes.)

so now Deku has turned back into a sixteen year old and his clothes have gone missing again. just OFA things

dskljdlsklgk

yes... sure... “testing” you...

HEY

FIRST OF ALL, DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI YOU MADE NANA CRY. even if I’m pretty sure they’re actually tears of happiness/relief. and SECOND OF ALL, “TELL MY BOYFRIEND I SAID HI” DJSKDLKJJL ANYWAY MAYBE GRAN, NANA, AND MR. SHIMURA WERE IN A THROUPLE

[SCREAMS]

WHY WOULD YOU END IT THERE?? WHY WOULD YOU END IT THERE!!!!!

(ETA: and two-to-one odds that we cut away to some other scene once they finally start to turn around next week. I’M CALLING IT NOW. giving myself a week to brace myself for the rage.)

fucking hell. well if anyone needs me I will be adding Horikoshi fucking Kouhei to the list of irredeemable villains, peace

[reidingmelodies]

The Date Jar: February

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Word Count: 3.5k Includes: Mentions and consumption of food, brief discussions of a case (no specifics are given) A/N:  Part of The Date Jar series, but can be read as a stand-alone piece as well :)

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

‘Time to let that inner creativity shine!  Plan a date for $20 or less (and tell me all about it xoxo)’ Your brows wrinkled at the phrase, fingers twirling the yellow popsicle in your hand as you looked out the window.  

It was February 3rd, you were missing Spencer, and your mind was a blank slate when it came to date ideas.

Spencer had been called away on a case eight days prior, his and your moods worsening with every second spent away from the other.  It was a bad one, there was no doubt about it.  It was obvious in the way his voice was tinged with exhaustion each time he managed to call you, in the way he made it a point to text you that he missed you every day regardless of the time, in the way he never answered questions about his day, all too eager to hide the disparity of the case from you to keep you from worrying.

But he was the love of your life- worrying came with the job description.

So, when you got a text from Penelope in the late evening hours warning you that the team was on their way back and Spencer would probably need a little extra loving that night, you didn’t hesitate to drop everything in favor of prepping for your reunion with Spencer.

Cups of tea were made (because even though you knew he’d prefer coffee what he’d really need was chamomile), your softest blankets and comfiest pillows were brought into the living room, and Dr. Who was playing softly on the television in front of you. The lights were dimmed, a pair of pajamas resting on the cushion awaiting his return, two containers of Jell-O situated on the coffee table.

Now, all you needed was his safe return.

Somehow, in your waiting, you had ended up in front of the window, popsicle stick in hand while you thought of ideas for your monthly date.  The task was simple, but the opportunities were endless, and you were stumped.

Spencer had insisted that you pick the date jar stick for February without him present, an idea you were vehemently against until he proposed video chatting once he was back in his hotel room so you could do it together (you really had to thank Penelope for her tech influence on him).  

Sure enough on the night of February 1st, you got a video call at 11:57 PM, your eyes bleary with sleep as you hit accept.  

And all too soon, your eyes were bleary with tears as you caught sight of Spencer’s face.

You missed him, plain and simple.  You were used to spending time apart but being accustomed to something certainly didn’t make it any easier to accept.

The ten-minute chat was the epitome of bliss, both of you purposely avoiding talk of work in favor of brainstorming twenty-dollar dates.

A bookstore?  There’s no way you’d only spend twenty dollars.  The park?  We wouldn’t spend a dime.  A diner? Too typical.  

You knew an idea would come to you sooner than later, especially when Spencer was home and safe in your arms and your brain could rest.  

For now, there was an overworked, exhausted man in dire need of a hug making his way into the apartment, and all thoughts of the date were abandoned in favor of him.

The door opened, Spencer’s slouched figure making his way into the entryway.  The bags under his eyes were prevalent from across the room, his rigid expression making way for a slight grin when he locked eyes with you.

Your legs swiftly carried you home, your arms making their way around his neck as he dropped his satchel in favor of holding your waist.

You stayed like that for what could’ve been five minutes or two hours, all too content swaying to the beat of Spencer’s heartbeat, his lips pressed against your hair.

“Missed you so much,” he murmured, breaking the silence and squeezing you impossibly closer in the process.

“Missed you too, Spence. More than you’ll ever know”.

A lingering kiss was placed on your head in response, Spencer’s arms slightly pulling back as he moved to examine you.  You did the same, taking note of the permanent frown etched on his features.  

“What do you need, baby?” you whispered, hand gently moving to trace his cheek.

“Just you,” he responded, sleep evident in his voice.

You nodded, grabbing his hand and directing him towards the couch.  Wordlessly, you handed him his pajamas and he changed into them right then and there, determinedly unwilling to be without you for the foreseeable future.

He collapsed onto the couch when he was done, forgoing the heap of blankets at the end of the sofa and opening his arms for you instead.  You quickly obliged, your head settling against his chest as his fingers mindlessly traced along your spine.

“It was a rough one,” his voice was low, your ears straining to hear him, “we weren’t able to save the last victim”.

You nodded solemnly, heart instantaneously breaking for the victim, for their family, for the team, for Spencer.  He was telling you as a means of an explanation rather than a means of a conversation, a fact you were well aware of after spending one too many nights like this, your arms wrapped around each other as though you were lifelines unwaveringly keeping the other afloat.

And so, you settled closer to him, head resting against his chest, legs heavily intertwined until his deep breaths filled the entirety of the room.  And when you were convinced he was asleep, at peace, and most importantly safe, you allowed your own eyes to close, your body finally resting serenely for the first time in eight days.

***

You awoke the next morning to a pillow underneath your head where Spencer had previously rested, your body jolting up in fear that he was prematurely called on another case.  But your worries were quickly put to rest at the sound of humming coming from the kitchen, your body filled with a mixture of relief and excitement at the sound.

You rose from your spot on the couch, body stretching in a useless attempt to make away with the aches that accumulated during the night.

It was worth it though. You’d sleep on a pile of rocks for Spencer if the situation called for it.

After your failed attempt, you made your way to the kitchen, eager to see your lover in daylight hours.

His back was to you, his blue flannel pajama pants and oversized white t-shirt looking oh so inviting as you burrowed yourself into his back, his posture instantly relaxed at the feel of your warmth against his.

“Morning, Y/N”.

You smiled into his shirt, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade.  “Morning, Spence.  What are you up to?”

“I figured I’d make you breakfast, but then I remembered I don’t have the greatest track record in the kitchen, so I settled on toast with jam instead,” he shifted his body so you were face to face, your expression lighting up with mirth at the sheepish look he was sporting.

“Mm wise choice, we don’t want a repeat of last time”.

He groaned, remembering how your neighbors called the fire station when they smelled smoke coming from your apartment a few months prior.  He was trying to surprise you with a homemade meal in celebration of your promotion, but instead, you came home to an apologetic Spencer, a concerned neighbor, and a stern firefighter.  Not quite the celebration you were hoping for.

Cheeks still red but desperate to change the subject, his hand found yours in an instant. 

“Thank you for last night, Y/N.  I’m sorry you had to deal with that”.

“Don’t ever apologize, Spencer- that’s what I’m here for.  You’d do the same for me, right?” At his nod you continued, “then it’s settled.  We’re a team- I was just fulfilling my half of the bargain”.

He chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes at you.  “Only you would call our relationship a bargain”.

“Mm well it was the best deal I’ve ever gotten- walked into a museum and came out with a bookmark and a boyfriend!  I mean c’mon Spence, even you have to admit that’s a bargain”.

His lips softly met yours in response, and you watched as he pulled away slightly, leaving your foreheads brushing.  “I love you. And I still feel bad I bought the last copy of the book you wanted that day”.

You closed the gap once more, letting your lips linger for a few seconds, pulling away when the grumble of your stomach interrupted the otherwise quiet room.  “I love you, too, babe.  And don’t feel bad- now that we live together, I can read it every day if I want to.  It was all part of my master plan”.

His eyebrows rose, fingers wiggling in your direction as he moved to tickle your sides.  An uproarious laugh left your lips in response, immediately jumping backwards and retracting your statement.

“Okay, okay I lied! The book was just a bonus”.

He smirked, pulling you against him and letting his fingers dance along your sides for a moment, both of your laughs echoing throughout the room.

The impromptu tickle session was cut short at the sound of your stomach grumbling once again, his newfound mission of making you toast and a cup of coffee taking centerstage.  He released you with a gentle kiss on your forehead, your figure immediately moving to stand by his side.  Your fingers moved along his arm, gently toying with the sleeve of his white t-shirt on the ascent and fiddling with his wrist on the descent.

Toast made and coffee poured in matching ‘I ♡ Vegas!’ mugs, you and Spencer found yourself situated at the kitchen counter, dangling feet bumping into each other at every opportunity.  

His eyes were skimming over his book while yours were tracing the mug closest to you, smiling in recollection at the memory of Diana sending them to you a week after your first visit along with a note saying she wanted to get you something as colorful as the rainbow you saw out her window.

Wait.  That was it.

Your eyes turned to Spencer, taking in the way his white tee shirt hung from his frame.  He had dozens like it in your bedroom, the shirts a trusted go to when he had to pack pajamas in a rushed go bag.  

It wouldn’t hurt to add a pop of color to a few of them.

Penelope said you had to spend $20 or less on a date- and if you used clothes you already had, you were almost positive you could buy tie dye materials and have money to spare.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” his question cuts through your thoughts, your eyes meeting his to find nothing but love.

“You have a lot of white tee shirts”.

With that, love made way for utter confusion.

“Um…yes?”  His brow furrows, watching as you moved the mug into his line of sight before jogging towards the living room.

Your return was marked with his fingers tracing the sides of the mug, every inch of his being determined to figure out what had you so fascinated.

Plopping down next to him, you place the date jar stick next to the coffee, moving your legs until they rested against his calves.

“What if we did tie dye for our February date?”

“With my clothes?”

Your features soften, taking his question as a sign of hesitation.  “Only if you’re okay with it, otherwise we can find some on sale?  Or we can always do something else if this isn’t’-”

You trailed off as his left hand found your cheek, looking up to find his eyes already on you.

“We can use mine, love. I think it’s a great idea, and I wear them to bed anyway so it’s not like anyone really sees them,” he watched as a smile overtook your features before continuing, “we can do some of yours too! And maybe some plain white socks? I think we both have some buried in our drawers”.

“Oh and we can do a pair of your boxers!” you added, positively giddy at the thought.

Spencer, on the other hand, was not.

“My boxers?  Isn’t that weird?”  His lips were pursed, his hands protectively moving to cover his thighs.

You smirked, right hand moving to cover his.  “I don’t think so, it’s not like anyone’s gonna see them besides me, baby- unless Penelope hacks into my photo album again”.

You both shuddered at the thought, heat rushing to your cheeks as you remembered the shrieks she let out the last time she looked through your photos (and the ‘atta boy’s’ Derek graced Spencer with).

You shook your head, willing the memory to a far corner of your mind before squeezing Spencer’s palm.

“So, babe, what do you say? Tie dye for our date?”  You watched as his lips curled into a smile, his teeth swiftly biting his lower lip before he responded.

“Only if you dye a few pairs of your underwear, too”

That was already a given, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Spencer”.

***

You went to the store for supplies the following Saturday while Spencer mess proofed your living room floor. $18.65 later, and you were armed with a tie dye kit, two squeeze bottles, pancake mix, and a basic food dye set. The kit only cost $9.99 and sticking with the theme of the day you figured colorful pancakes were the way to go.

Surely, there wouldn’t be another kitchen incident if you were there to help Spencer.

You walked into the door, instantly greeted by a plastic tarp placed on the floor and covered in an assortment of tee shirts, underwear, socks, and pillowcases.  Spencer was amid the pile, face beaming as he placed a white bedsheet on top of the pile.

“I figured we may as well go all out, right?  Go big or go home or something like that?”

You laughed, nodding your head in his direction while you walked into the kitchen.  “That’s the spirit, Spence!”  Pancake supplies placed on the counter, you grabbed the tie dye kit and two glasses of water before taking your rightful seat next to your boyfriend on the floor.

“Ready for this, babe?”

He enthusiastically nodded, inching closer to you to help set up the dyes.  “Mm-hmm.  Did you know that the origin of tie dye traces back to the 6th century, with the first recorded instances taking place during both the T’ang Dynasty and the Nara Period?”

You looked up at him, admiring the way he licked his lips while he awaited your answer, his fingers fiddling with the top of one of the bottles of dye.

God, you were so in love with him and the infinite amount of knowledge he seemed to possess.

“That’s really cool! So, what did they use as their dye?” You questioned, eyes solely focused on your favorite view- his face lighting up every time you asked him to elaborate on one of his fun facts.

“Well, it’s quite interesting, actually,” he began, “they used natural dyes and essences from things like berries, flowers, and leaves”.

You grinned, adding the final bottle of dye to the pile that had accumulated at your feet.  “Maybe next time we can try that method”.

He nodded in agreement, placing a kiss on your forehead before reaching for a tee shirt.

“Okay, so where do we start?”

He observed as you put rubber bands around one of his tee shirts, blotching up the fabric in a series of places to allow the dye to spread.  Pink, purple, and red dye was splashed across the material, your glove covered hands coming in handy as you twisted and folded the shirt with each splash.

Once you were satisfied with the design, you laid it on the corner of the tarp, leaning up to give Spencer a quick kiss on his pursed lips before reaching for the next item.  He followed suit, and together you worked to the sound of giggles, bundles of socks, underwear, and shirts joining the line of finished products.

Taking a break, you watched as he mixed every color on one of his tee shirts, the colors bleeding together until they resembled the color of mud.

“Spencer!” his name came out of your mouth in a breathy huff, your smile uncontained as your hand moved to pick up the material and observe it for yourself.  

Secretly, he knew it looked awful, and he was sure whoever roomed with him on the next case would agree.

But, he also knew he’d do anything to keep that smile on your face- even if it made him the most unfashionable agent in the FBI.

“I for one think it’s gorgeous, Y/N”.

“Everything looks gorgeous on you, babe, so I’ve gotta say I’m inclined to agree”.

All this time together and his cheeks still flushed every time you complimented him.

“Can I ask you something?” The serious tone of his voice was enough to drop the smile off your face, especially when you noticed the wrinkle that had developed between his eyebrows as he awaited your response.

“Anything.  You can always ask me anything, baby”.

He took a deep breath, moving to take one of his gloves off as you mirrored his action.  Uncovered hands clasped together, you squeezed his hand between yours, giving him the time he needed to gather his thoughts.

“Do you- do you think we’ll do this with our kids one day?”  His voice was quiet, and if the room wasn’t as still as it was you would have missed the question.

It was something you had discussed in passing before, midnight pillow talk turned into discussions about future children and Punnett squares as you daydreamed of a life with the pitter patter of little feet.  Children that were made from love and taught to be kind to others, shoot for the stars, and make their mark on the world.  But, this was the first time the discussion breached daytime hours.

You pulled the other glove from your hand, motioning him closer to you as you grasped his cheeks, your eyes fully situated on each other’s.

“There’s nothing I want more, Spencer.  You’re gonna be the greatest dad one day, I just know it”.  He closed the gap between your lips at your statement, his kiss swimming with love, respect, and excitement.

You broke apart when the need to breathe became too strong, resting your forehead against his while your fingers played with the strands of hair resting at the nape of his neck.

“I have something else we can do with our future children in the kitchen, actually,” you began as you stood, leaving the mess of tie dye materials for later, all too eager to get a move on with your plans for the day.

Spencer followed suit, mind swirling with possibilities.  “Is this a good thing to do with our kids or a bad thing?”

You laughed, sneaking a peak over your shoulder at him.  “It’s a good thing!  At least I think it is.  You’ll probably hate it”.

“That’s reassuring”.

You laughed, clutching his hand in yours as you approached the kitchen.  “Ta-da!  I got some stuff to make rainbow pancakes, I figured we can layer the bottles with colors and try to make tie dye pancakes for dinner to stick with the theme”.

“You and I have very different ideas of fun- do you not remember the kitchen incident?” He shook his head with a chuckle, his actions contradicting his words as he gathered bowls to mix pancake mix and dye.

You worked together in the peaceful glow of the afternoon sun, your fingers leaving trails of colorful batter on each other’s faces with a mixture of kisses and belly laughs in between.

He bit his lip in concentration as he worked to make the perfect pile of pancakes, each slightly burnt around the edges and raw in the middle but a massive improvement from having to call the fire department.  His consisted of circles, ovals, and squares while you wrote out ‘I ♡ U’ in a sea of colors, turning the pan towards him so he could see your creation.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he sealed his words with a kiss, leaning closer as you took the opportunity to let out a confession of your own.

“I can’t wait until the day we tie dye our entire house with our hypothetical children and feed them rainbow pancakes for dinner, Spence”.

A life full of love and a house filled to the brim with happiness- it was all he ever wanted, and in this moment with you, streaks of red pancake batter splattered across both of your cheeks, he knew he was already there.

“I can’t wait either, Y/N”.

Young Spencer Reid would be proud.

***

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[thisnoodlewritesao3]

SELF INDULGENT TIME so like what would happen 👀if you surprised the boys 👀👀 with new hair👀👀👀

I DID IT LOOK!!!! LOOK I DID IT!!!! Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.

This is for Daichi, Sugawara, Tsukishima, and Bokuto. All with a Gender Neutral Reader! Please let me know if anything is gendered <3

ALSO THANK YOU TO @pies-writes-and-more FOR LITERALLY HELPING ME WITH THE IDEAS FOR THESE GOD KNOWS HOW LONG AGO!!! I WOULD NOT HAVE SURVIVED HAD IT BEEN FOR YOU

--------

Daichi -

(gif is not mine)

“You really think he’s going to like it?” You fiddled with the ends of your hair, biting your lip and looking at Kiyoko in the corner of your eye. 

It was that time of year again where it was getting too hot to be able to deal with your hair, so you cut the majority of it off.

The VBC manager looked over at you, sighing a little with a smile dancing on her lips, “he’ll love it.” She affirms you, though you can’t help the hesitation in your returned smile.

You hadn’t been able to see him all day - the only reason you’d met Daichi was because of Kiyoko, she just accidentally introduced you when you needed to return a pen to her and did it by showing up to her club after school.

After that day, the volleyball club boys showed up to your classroom more often. Somehow Daichi’s eyes always managed to find you. The rest was history (history being Kiyoko telling you to suck it up and ask him out).

It had barely been a month, Summer break was nearing with each passing day. You let out a soft sigh, walking with Kiyoko to where the boys hung out during lunch.

You really didn't know how he was going to react, but you hoped it was good.

When you rounded the corner, you saw him sitting in all his glory, drinking something you couldn’t quite make out from here. Asahi smiled and waved you over.

You watched Daichi turn his head to see what Asahi who Asahi was calling over.

Time seemed to slow down for this moment. You really wished you’d recorded Daichi’s reaction as he spotted you. His eyes shot open to their fullest - he was still mid-drink, but that stopped as he spat most of his drink out while gasping.

Suga - upon realising that Daichi probably choked - proceeded to smack his friend on the back. Hard. “I’ll save you!” He called out, only making things so much worse.

Asahi had the most disgusted look on his face as he yelled at Daichi for spitting  some sort of juice on him. You were stifling laughter, but Daichi wasn’t even throwing any insults at Asahi for being a wuss, his eyes were glued to you (and one arm was focused on shoving Suga away).

“Hey,” you giggled, sitting down next to him.

You’d never seen Daichi speechless before, there’s a first for everything you suppose. When he doesn’t answer right away, you wave a hand in front of his eyes. He blinks quickly, doing a deep intake of breath and smiling so wide you’re worried his face might split in two.

“Hey.” He breathes out, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “This is new.” He hums, running his hands through your hair. You lean into his touch.

In the background, you can hear Suga gagging at your signs of affection, but you didn’t care. Especially since Daichi was here and looking at you like you were everything. “Yep, it’s getting warm so I;m doing some preventative measures.”

“I like it.” Somehow, three simple words managed to set off butterflies in you that were almost too overwhelming. Feeling the warmth spread to your cheeks, you turned away, stifling anxious laughter. He cupped your cheek and turned your head back. “It looks so beautiful.”

You really loved Daichi, especially since you knew he meant it with every part of him.

Sugawara - 

(gif is not mine)

Suga barely caught sight of you when he knew something was different - and he knew it was your hair in a second. That mischievous smirk pulled at his lips when you walked into the gym, greeting Ukai, who complimented your hair and then turned back to yelling at someone for… something?

He sauntered over you, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to. “You’re new around here.” An obvious flirty tone made you quirk your brows up. Catching his drift, you smirked up at him.

“Just thought I’d come see some cute boys play volleyball,” you hummed, leaning against the wall, “L/N Y/N.” You held out a hand to him, which he gladly took and used to pull you closer.

“So, you here to see anyone specific” He let out a low whistle as you brushed your hair out of your face. Internally, you were snorting - this happened every time you tried a new hairstyle - still, it made you feel good.

You took your time glancing around at the boys, making sure to give the best flirty look possible to Daichi (who was now thoroughly used to how your relationship with Suga was). “No one in particular, why? Are you interested?” You teased him.

“Of course,” he chuckled, capturing a few strands of your hair between his fingers and humming happily, “how could I not be when you’re stood here looking so beautiful?”

“Suga,” Ukai called out to him, pinching the bridge of his nose, “this is cute and all, but get back to practise!”

Suga tossed you a wink over his shoulder as he jogged towards the court.

“Why’re you like this?” Ukai asked you, and you only shrugged.

“He started it.” And he didn’t need to respond, because that was the whole truth.

It was one of the things you’d had to get used to when being with Suga, the fact that he liked to mindlessly flirt with you at any second - either that or he’d tease you to no end - but he’d never tease you about your appearance, that was one bridge even he wouldn’t cross. Well, unless it was Asahi.

His eyes constantly floated over to you, making sure you were definitely watching him today. As if it would be any different to say any other day. With each successful set, you were shooting him a thumbs up and a big smile; every receive, spike, dig. It was all so mesmerizing to you.

You’d be sure to thank your friend again for dragging you to a volleyball game in your second year and getting you hooked on it (well, mostly Suga).

If it hadn't been for that, you never would have introduced yourself to him. “L/N Y/N!” You held your hand out to him and smiled. “I loved the way you played, and I think you’re very cute.” That was all it took and you and Suga were wrapped around each other’s fingers.

Whipped. He had you whipped, you had him whipped. But it was perfect. So sweet.

When his practise finished, he pranced over to you and wrapped his arms around you in his disgusting sweaty hugs he insisted on giving you every single practise. You gagged and tried to push him off.

“You really like it?” You asked when he finally let you go. You motioned to your hair (which you’d recently dyed grey to support him in his final year, like the good partner you were). He hummed happily, kissing your cheeks and the tip of your nose quickly.

“I love it,” he hums. You were ready to die from the love, but he had to ruin the moment. “Like a sexy little old person.”

You slapped Suga on the arm and stormed away from him. His laughter made your stomach flip as he chased after you.

Sometimes Suga was an asshole. Sometimes he was the sweetest boy to ever exist. But he was yours all the time, and that made you happy.

That’s what you kept telling yourself when he wouldn’t stop teasing you about how cheesy it was to dye your hair like his.

Tsukishima -

(gif is not mine)

You weren’t sure what you expected. Of course, Tsukishima didn’t care about your hair. Why would he? He probably thought something like this was lame.

Still, that didn’t stop you from trying to get his attention (he was your boyfriend, after all). So, you spent so much time in every interaction with him fiddling with your hair. Running your hand through it? Did it. Twirling the ends in your fingertips? Check. You name it, you’d done it.

Nothing worked. It honestly left you really disappointed. It wasn’t like you’d cut a small amount of your hair off; you’d gotten a decent amount cut, and yet, nothing.

“Maybe he just hasn’t noticed.” Yamaguchi said, trying his best to be helpful. The look you gave him radiated really? and he nodded slowly. “Yeah, you’re right, well… it looks great. So, he’s just lame.” His attempt at making you feel better worked a little.

“Thanks Tadashi.” You hummed.

Still, being with the Tsukishima Kei came with its own wave of insecurities. Maybe you would have faired better today if he had said it looks stupid (at least he would have noticed it then). But…

You sigh, running your hands through your hair, regretting everything now.

Little did you know, Tsukishima had noticed your hair. In fact, he thought it was lovely. That was what he was repeating as Yamaguchi yelled at him down the other end of your phone.

“-their your partner, you really couldn’t say anything?” Yamaguchi was pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing heavily.

“It looks nice, do I really need to tell them that every time they change it?” Tsukishima sighed; he really didn’t understand the rules of being in a relationship. Why did he need to tell you you looked beautiful every day when you knew he thought you were? Did he need to do that?

“Yes!” Yamaguchi - unknowingly - answered both of his questions.

It seemed to click in his head. That was why you spent all day messing with your hair more than usual. He just thought you were extra anxious today (although maybe he’d made you anxious).

“Tsukki, you’re an idiot.” Yamaguchi laughed after the middle block made a noise of realisation.

“Shut up, Tadashi…” Tsukishima grumbled, because God forbid he admit he was wrong.

So, like the good boyfriend he was, he started making his way to your house at 7 o’ clock to make sure you knew he loved your hair. He really did put in so much effort for you - not that he’d ever tell anyone it.

He spends the walk to yours thinking about how he was going to say this, or how you’d react. He does love you, and sure, he doesn’t say it as much as the next guy, but he shows it in so many more ways, right?

Tsukishima tells you he loves you by buying you your favourite drink from the vending machine every day at lunch; he tells you he loves you by trying out your favourite foods even when he insists he doesn’t like them; he tells you he loves you by linking your pinkies together in the school hall; he tells you he loves you by making you a playlist of the songs that make him think of you.

So why did you need him to tell you that you were beautiful no matter what? Day or night; rain or sun; no matter how old, he thought you were beautiful, from the bottom of his heart.

He supposed it was nice to hear - because he did love to hear how handsome you thought he was.

Knocking on the door to your house left him just a little anxious, that feeling only heightened when you opened the door with red-rimmed eyes, looking up at him so sadly. “Kei?” You called out, unsure why he was here so late. He hadn’t even told you he was coming, it wasn’t like him to just… show up, so, why?

“I can’t believe I have to tell you this,” he grumbles and looks away, cheeks tinted red (it would be him blushing, but he’d blame the cold air when you teased him later), “I think your hair is amazing, idiot.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, making sure that he can catch your expression in the corner of his eye.

Your mouth drops open before quickly pouting, trying to fight back tears as you throw yourself at him, squeezing him in a hug.

“Wh-”

“Thank you…” your voice is so weak, shaking ever so lightly. He makes a point to run his fingers through your hair and gently massage your scalp, leaning down to kiss your head.

Tsukishima thought you were beautiful, and right now, that’s all that mattered.

Bokuto -

(gif is not mine)

If you’d have told yourself yesterday that your boyfriend would spend the entire day avoiding you, you’d have laughed in your own face. Because why would he do that?

Well, maybe it’s what you get for surprising him with an entirely new haircut. Or, more so, you’d dyed your hair black and white to match his. Your entire plan to see him get so excited had completely backfired.

To give him credit, at least you knew he would never cheat, because the moment you tackled him in a hug and he didn’t recognise you immediately, he pushed you off exclaiming, “you can’t do that, I have a partner!” Before running off.

At first, it hurt a little. Every time you tried to go near him, he’d run in the opposite direction. You told Akaashi about it - he was in your class, after all - and the two of you started a bet as to when he’d figure out it was you and not some random person. There was that general worry that he wouldn’t figure it out.

The funny thing was that he still texted you throughout the day, telling you about this random person (read: you) and how they wouldn’t leave him alone. You laughed at his texts, rolling your eyes and promising that everything would be okay.

Of course, you had to surprise him at the end of the day. He didn’t react too well, but you and Akaashi shared a knowing smirk, “they’re here, too!” He dove behind Akaashi - the spiker only sighed and stepped towards you.

The gym waited with baited breath for what would happen. “Hey, did you finish studying already?” He spoke casually to you. Bokuto gasped in betrayal - because how dare he talk to you after you’d stalked him all day - and started stepping towards the two of you.

“Yeah, it wasn’t that much anyway.” You shrugged, trying to hide your excitement.

If you looked closely enough, you could see the cogs turning in his head. You just knew he was trying to figure out when Akaashi got a partner (and why his partner looked so much like you). His eyes widened as he tentatively stepped closer to you.

With each passing second, more tension grew. Akaashi was trying his best not to burst out laughing - subsequently making it harder for you to not laugh.

A switch flipped in his head and he gasped. “Wait a minute! That’s my partner!”

That broke you, both you and Akaashi finally letting out your howling laughter. Bokuto threw himself at you, hugging you like his life depended on it.

“Took you long enough.” You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around him and humming happily.

He pulled away and pouted at you, “why did you change your pretty hair?” He fumbled the strands in his fingertips. “Not that it isn’t pretty! It’s very pretty, but a different kind of pretty.” You snorted at his phrasing.

“Well,” you smiled sweetly up at him, “I wanted us to match.”

Once again, the wheels in his head turned before he gasped, lifting you up and spinning you around. Such wonder in his eyes.

Sure, you’d spend later comforting because you were prettier than him now, and he’s the ugly one in the relationship (his words, not yours), but it would be worth it to see the way his eyes would light up so much more at every single match you attended. After every win, he’d parade you around and explode with so much joy. He’d brag to Kuroo that his partner’s hair matched his. 

You’d never felt luckier to be Bokuto’s.

--------

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[sadachmesarthim]

bingo fill two: cum fetish

content: peter being a Sudden Service Top, shy!tony, tony being an Absolute Whore 

hope you enjoy <333 

Peter was nothing, if not a man of science. Above all else, he cared about thorough investigation and novel discovery.

So when he realized what a cumslut Tony Stark was... He decided to experiment.

They hadn't been together long - they'd danced around each other for years, finally caving when Peter finished undergrad. It was a comfortable type of love - something you see in old movies, or cheesy romance novels.

But the sex... Jesus christ, the sex.

Peter hadn't had much time for... self discovery, while in school. Between patrol, double majoring in biochem and genetics, and maintaining a semidecent sleep schedule, there wasn't really opportunity for him to date or fuck around.

So when he came back to Manhattan, and they finally quit mooning over each other... needless to say, Tony hadn't had that much sex since his twenties.

It was generally kind of nice. Tony was sweet, gentle in his love making. Peter preened under the attention, sure - there was nothing wrong with their sex life. But Peter could tell Tony wanted something different.

When he brought it up, Tony turned bright red, stumbling over his words.

"It's not... There's nothing wrong, honey, really, I promise. I just... Sometimes I wish I was in your... position." This left Peter confused. "You... You want to bottom?" He'd never mentioned anything about it before.

Peter's tone didn't help Tony's blush, nor did it make him feel better about the whole ordeal. "Listen it's not... It's not an issue really and I don't... I don't have to. Seriously, if you're not comfortable we-" Peter stopped him mid sentence.

"Okay, no, that's not what I said at all. I just didn't know what you meant, Tony, let's take a step back." His hands immediately went to Tony's shoulders, bringing the older man back to the present. Grounding. "I love you, you know that right?"

Tony relaxed in his grip, taking a deep breath. "I know, I know, and I love you too. I just... It's embarrassing." Peter cocked his head, still not following. "You gotta use your words, T, or I can't give you what you want."

He closed his eyes, thumbs stroking over Peter's knuckles. He could do this, he could do this.

"I... So you know how you got bit by the spider, right?" Peter was very aware. He was also aware of just how bad Tony was stalling.

"Tony if you don't just spit it out I swear to go-"

"I want to see how much cum you can fit inside me!" He broke. With Peter holding him, right up in his face, he couldn't do it, couldn't hold it in anymore.

He slid to his knees, head falling into his hands. "I just... You can go so much, and sometimes when I'm fucking you I get to thinking.. How many times could you go in one night? How much could you produce? A few ounces? A cup? More? Makes me cum so quick just thinkin' about it, even in my old age. Can't stop thinkin' about it, about you fillin' me up like that. I can't do it anymore.

"It makes me feel like a gross old man, you know? Thinking about you like that? About you using me like a toy? It drives me crazy but I can't stop, can't keep it in anymore." He was shaking, unable to stop himself once he started.

Peter's eyes were wide, mind racing to process what Tony was saying. The bite had impacted their sex life - he could rebound almost instantly, and he did... produce more than the average twenty-something.

He sat down next to Tony, cradling him. "That's all you had to say, baby, it's okay. Shh shh, you're okay." he rubbed circles into Tony's shoulder, kissing his temple. "You know I'd never judge you for wanting something, right?"

Tony sighed. He knew that, logically, of course. His anxiety around admitting it didn't listen to logic, though, and it was hard to override that. "I know. I know. I love you. I'm sorry for freaking out."

Peter just kissed him again. "It's okay, T."

•|||•

Peter waited a few weeks before bringing it up again - both for Tony's benefit, and his.

He'd spent a long time digging through medical journals, doing independent research... He even made a (very awkward) call to Dr. Strange.

It didn't take him long to create a game plan: he needed to double his water intake, get more leafy greens and ripe fruit in. It wasn’t difficult - he had to shift around some of his calories, sure, but he made it work.

The worst part was not orgasming. He and Tony'd resumed their normal sexual activities a few days after their... discussion. But Peter made it a point not to cum - he wanted to build up as much as possible.

Even worse - he was edging himself several times a day. Massaging his prostate, sleeping with Tony, jerking off until just on this side of orgasm in the shower... He made it a point to work himself up and then leave himself there. He'd read several articles that talked about edging and semen production, and they all agreed - the less you cum, the more you produce and retain.

So he went with it. For the better part of a month - he didn't cum.

Tony, initially questioned it - but with some solid reassurances, and promises that Peter had "something exciting" in store, he let up. Getting him on the edging process was fun too - enough spice to keep Tony entertained until Peter was ready.

And ready, he was.

•|||•

He decided on a Friday night - that way they'd have all weekend to recover (or continue, if Tony wanted).

He made a real spectacle of it, too - stocking them with water bottles and easy snacks, bringing in a bunch of clean towels and leaving them at the foot of the bed. He wanted this to be good for Tony, and part of that was being ready for anything.

He waited until Tony was finished with work to bring it up. He didn't want Tony to be distracted at all, and he knew exactly how much anticipation can hinder daily activities.

When Tony walked through the doors of the penthouse, he could tell something was up.

It wasn't like Peter to be so... Flighty.

He was walking circles around the bar, drink in hand. Tony couldn't tell whether or not it was a drink drink, but it didn't matter... If Peter was up and pacing like this, there was definitely something up.

"Hey baby, how was your day?" Okay, yeah, something's definitely up. Peter never asked - he always waited for Tony to start - always gave Tony the opportunity to either vent about, or forget entirely, the day he'd just finished.

Tony dropped his suit jacket on the bar chair, walking back to meet Peter where he stood. He grabbed Peter's face in his hands, kissing down from his forehead to his lips. Peter sighed into the contact, relaxing immediately. "It was okay. What's got you all tense like this?"

Peter exhaled sharply before responding. "You know how you... brought up that thing, a few weeks ago? That thing you wanted to try?" Tony hesitated, eyes narrowing. "I... Yeah. Why?"

Peter blushed under the scrutny. "I've... Well, you know how I've been working on that thing? Not... not coming? I wanted to surprise you... And I think today'd be a good day." Tony was confused now. "You... you wanna try it? Topping, I mean?"

Peter snorted. "Not just topping, silly. That thing you specifically mentioned - seeing how much I could make, for you? I've been keepin' myself on edge, saving up all my cum for you." Tony shivered, goosebumps forming down the entire length of his arms. Peter's breath left his hair on edge, his words burning straight through Tony.

"I... I remember. Are- are you sure? Like I said, I mean, we don't hav-" Peter cut him off almost immediately.

"If I didn't want to do it, baby, why would I bring it up? Why would I spend almost a month edging myself for you? Why would I spend a month intentionally eating semen-enhancing foods, hmm? You think I was doing all that stuff for the hell of it?" Tony blushed at the words, head dropping to Peter's shoulder. "No, of course not, I ju-"

"You need to stop making excuses." Peter pulled back, meeting Tony's eyes. "If I didn't want to do this, I wouldn't have brought it up. Wouldn't have spent so long making sure I was full enough, had enough for you. You know how long it's been since I've cum, T, baby? Twenty seven days. It's been twenty seven days of edging, of producing this-" he reached down, gently cupping his own balls through his shorts "- for you? All of this cum, just waiting for you, waiting for your pretty hole?" Tony shivered at the words. Fuck, Peter knew exactly how to work him up.

"I'm sorry, baby, I just- this is a lot. So much, Pete, you gotta know that." His vulnerability was aparent.

"I know, Tones. We can go slow if you want - we won't do anything. Just want to show you i'm willing." Peter's tone was gentle, reassuring. It helped Tony immesurably.

"I- okay. I want to. Try, I mean. I trust you, we just gotta.. Gotta go slow. I'm an old man, you know." Peter knew it was said in jest, but Tony would always have a soft spot in his heart. "Not that old," he poked.

Tony bit back with a kiss, forgoing words he wasn't sure he could find. It was slow, soft at first - a thank you for everything Peter did for him, for the whole situation.

Peter responded eagerly, taste of grenadine and carbonation on his lips. Thank god, he hadn't been drinking. Something Tony'd always appreciate - Peter's sober excitement. The energy he put into their relationship. The devotion. He balanced Tony out perfectly. 

Peter nipped at his bottom lip. It was sweet - playful, but it made the whole thing so much more intense. Tony responded in kind, licking into his mouth. He pulled a quiet moan from Peter, seizing the opportunity to meet the other's tongue. Passion always took a while to build with them - reverence and love always taking priority.

Today, though... Today was different.

Tony's mind was still going steady, trying to process exactly what they were about to do. Peter really wanted to try this with him. It was groundbreaking.

He felt the excitement burn low in his stomach. He'd always had a thing for cum - whether it was his inside someone, or vice versa - there was just something so visceral about it. Watching it slowly drip from someone's hole, sucking it out, sharing it. The idea of breeding someone, of being bred, having cum forced inside him over and over again, without consequence...

He'd tried to keep his love for it under wraps - Pepper had no real want for children, and god forbid he get wrapped up in a custody battle. He hadn't messed around with other men since his twenties, either, so the opportunity to explore this side of him just... never came up.

But now, with Peter - his most beloved supertwink with a refactory period of, like, -1, and his enhanced output... the possibilities washed over him.

He hadn't realized just how turned on it made him until Peter separated them, hands toying with Tony's waistband. The sudden lack of lips on his gave him the opportunity to express his appreciation - several broken moans escaping him. "Oh god, Peter, baby please."

He never claimed to be above begging, but he didn't do it often. It was a sight to behold, and with Peter being on a hair trigger...

Peter reached up, grabbing Tony by the throat. "What do you want, love? Use your words, tell me. Can't give you what you want if you don't use your words, Tony."

Tony dropped his head, gasping into Peter's neck. "Please, Peter, baby. I need you to fuck me."

Peter laughed, breathy. "Can't hear you, baby. Come on, come up and tell me what you want."

Tony looked up, shaky exhale falling onto Peter's lips. "I. Need you. To fuck me. Please, Pete?" His request was met with a smile. "Of course, baby."

Peter reached down and hooked under Tony's thighs, lifting him up like he weighed nothing. Tony often forgot about Peter's strength when they weren't in the field - feeling weightless like this, safe in Peter's arms? It was erotic, it was safe, it was everything. "Oh, god."

Peter took them to the bedroom, carefully setting Tony down on the bed.

Tony reached his arms up, snaking around Peter's neck. He brought them together for another kiss, not wanting to lose contact with Peter.

Peter chuckled, carefully peeling Tony away from him. "We can't do this if you don't let me get naked, T. Be patient." Tony rolled his eyes, allowing his fists to fall back to the bed. "Been patient, need you now." Peter tossed his shirt to the floor before dignifying Tony with a response.

"Don't talk to me about patient, mister. I've gone almost a month without coming, how do you think I feel?" He finished removing his jeans, leaving him in nothing but strained boxer briefs. Tony could see the outline of his cock, already leaking. He was nearly as hard in his own pants - which he was suddenly excited to remove.

Peter, perceptive as always, walked toward Tony and began helping him strip. Now shirtless, Tony reached up to place his hands on Peter's chest. He planted small kisses all over it, worshipping the man in front of him. Peter threaded his fingers through Tony's hair, enjoying the attention. "I thought this was about you, baby. Why you takin' your time with me?"

Tony looked up, smiling at the man above him. "Just thankful, is all. Love you." Peter cupped the sides of his face, reaching down and kissing Tony reverently. "Anything for you, baby. Anything. Now, let's get you out of those pants." Tony fiddled with his zipper, tugging the slacks down to his ankles before kicking them to the side. Now in a similar state as Peter, he felt so much more open, exposed. They were really about to do this. Peter had prepared for this. His dream was finally coming true.

He inhaled sharply, feeling the flush of arousal reach his cock. It was so intense, so much all at once - he felt high. This was definitely not an experience he planned on forgetting anytime soon.

Peter straddled him, shifting them back and up the bed. He met Tony halfway, sighing into the kiss. It was firey, full of hunger - neither really wanted to wait anymore.

Peter pulled back, meeting Tony's eyes. "Are you ready? You sure about this?" Tony nodded his head, mind too cloudy to use words right away. He was ready about this, so fucking ready.

His face must've said everything - Peter quickly helped him out of his boxers, sliding them down and tossing them next to the towels. He grabbed the bottle of lube he set out, wetting his fingers thoroughly before reaching down.

Tony'd opted to lay on his front, knees tucked under his hips for better access. Thank god for a nanite bed - they'd developed the tech to aid healing times and recovery after surgery and intense (battles) workouts, but quickly discovered the many sexual uses for it - one of which being added support for Tony's joints.

Peter traced over his hole, toying with him a moment. He very rarely topped in general, but he'd be willing to do it for the rest of his life if it meant he could see Tony like this. He was already so sensitive, gasping and rocking back into the attention. Peter laughed, gripping Tony's hip harder and steeling him before teasing his rim. He was so gentle - just barely dipping in with his index finger before massaging around and pulling back out. He wanted this to be good for Tony, not just a check off his bucket list.

Tony keened, hips pushing back into Peter's fingers. Greedy. "Relax, T. Let me do the work, okay baby?" All he received was a high whimper in response.

Peter laughed, rolling his eyes as he finally gave Tony what he wanted - he thrust two fingers in, careful not to go too deep to fast. Tony moaned, pitchy and high in his throat. It was so much better than he remembered.

Peter kneaded Tony's ass with his free hand, mouthing praise into his beautiful cheeks. Who knew he'd be such a service top? Peter certainly didn't, but he was definitely enjoying it.

He twisted his fingers, feeling around for Tony's prostate. When he found it he pushed, gently, redirecting his attention toward giving Tony the best prostate massage of his life. Tony instantly jumped, gasping into the sensation. Peter's fingers were just long enough to reach, just dextrous enough to keep him on edge. Tony fisted at the sheets, at Peter's shoulder - it was so much. Why did he ever stop bottoming?

He rediscovered his voice shortly after. "Fuck, Pete baby please, need you to fuck me now. Wanna cum on your cock, can't wait anymore. Please baby, please, need you." He was babbling, desperate and not willing to hide it anymore.

Peter, nearly as fucked out, conceeded. They were planning on going multiple times tonight, anyway, why not get the first orgasm out of the way? He pulled his fingers from Tony, wiping them off on one of the nearby towels. Good job, Parker.

Tony whined at the emptiness, still so unabashedly needy. Peter smiled to himself. He'd never seen Tony like this before, and he was so happy he was the one to do this to him. Tony was known for his stoicism and poker face - for Peter to be able to tear that wall down so easily? It was a pride point, for sure.

He reached for the bottle of lube again, coating himself in the cool liquid as he stroked. It didn't take much to get him ready - he felt like he'd been hard for eons, and wasn't thrilled with the whole "waiting" thing.

Peter rubbed over his hole again, smirking when Tony instinctively clenched around nothing. He sat up on his knees, easing himself into the man in front of him. Tony immediately dropped from his elbows, moaning as Peter sank all the way inside. It was so much better than he'd imagined - Peter wasn't particularly lengthy or girthy, but it felt like he was made for Tony. Designed specifically to fuck into Tony's hole, and to wreck him as he did it.

It literally brought Tony to his knees, arching back into Peter's touch and begging him to move. "Please, Peter, baby, give it to me. I can take it, whatever you give me, please, just please I need you to move. I need you to fuck me, baby, please."

it was enough to convince Peter. He pulled back, forcing himself all the way back with a quick snap of his hips. Tony moaned, broken and desperate. It was slowly becoming his mo - who knew Tony Stark was such a slut for his baby's cock, for his cum?

Apparently Peter'd been thinking out loud. He tended to do that during sex - couldn't keep his mouth shut, and whatever "filter" he had completely flew out the window. "Yeah? You like it when I fuck you, T? Like the idea of me cumming inside your pretty little hole? Wanna feel my cum leak out of you, baby? How much do you think i'll give you today, hmm? You do the math on it? I did. I did a whole fuck ton, just to see how much I'd give you.

"You wanna know how much cum I'll give you, T? Hmm? Math says it'll be 1000 mils the first time, can you imagine that? One thousand mililiters of cum, in your pretty little hole. Leaking out, drippin' all down your thighs? You're such a slut, can't even stay tight long enough to hold my cum inside. What a little cockslut, you are. Who would've thought?

"We already know how many times I can go. What was our max, like 8? Imagine eight of those fat loads inside you, love. Can you feel it? Can you feel me inside you? You're so tight, Tony, but you won't be when I'm done with you. No, I'm gonna stuff you full and leave you like this, leave you to feel as it runs out of you.

"Or maybe, maybe, I'll leave you here. I'll wipe you off, get you all clean. Then maybe I'll run over, grab one of our plugs. Plug your pretty little ass, leave you full of my cum. How about that? You like the sound of that?"

He did, by god Tony did. The sound of it, the sheer idea of being so full, so heavy with Peter's cum inside him... being plugged, and left to suffer..

It had him cumming embarassingly early. Tony typically prided himself on his stamina - stamina that was nonexistent with Peter's words.

He came, slack and broken, with Peter's name on his lips. He felt his own cum splatter on his stomach. It was pathetic, it was nothing compared to what Peter was going to give him. It was humiliating in the best way imaginable.

Peter groaned, gritting his teeth as he felt Tony tighten through his orgasm. It was too much, he was so on edge after waiting so long.

It was nearly painful when he finally came. He could feel his balls tighten, feel the fluid flowing through him and spraying out the other side. He felt like a fucking firehose, orgasm lasting nearly a full minute.

He felt like a popped balloon after, useless after being so thoroughly empty.

It was made perfectly fine, though, by Tony's rising stomach.

This might have been the first load, and it was probably going to be the biggest of them all, but Peter was still shocked at just how much of an impact it made. Tony's stomach grew, near a solid inch as Peter continued pumping into him. The more he thrust, the larger he got - Peter continued to thrust into him until it was painful.

When he pulled out, a healthy amount surged from Tony's abused hole, covering the sheets beneath them. Peter snagged a towel in time to catch it, not wanting it to soak through to the mattress. It took several to handle the mess in front of him, and by the time he was done Tony was nearly asleep.

Peter stood, walking over to their dresser. He opened the top drawer, removing one of their smaller plugs. There was zero resistence when he slid it inside Tony, preventing the rest of him from escaping.

Tony hummed, content. "When do you think you'll be ready to go again? Because I definitely need a nap." He hadn't opened his eyes, but he still blindly reached out for Peter.

He smiled, sinking down into Tony's arms. "Wake me up when you do. I'll be ready."

[mochamamii]

yandere!taeyong: monster.

part one  This is part two, click the link to catch up!

(a/n: I’m apologizing in advance for how terrible this is. I struggled writing the ending for this and I actually hate the way I ended it but I really wanted to get this out so I ended up rushing it, sorry... :/ Also, in the first part I mentioned that the reader was seven months pregnant already but for the sake of realism let’s all just pretend she’s just now reaching seven months, this is set months later from the first part.)

**disclaimer** This post features heavy elements of stockholm syndrome, self-loathing, emotional trauma, major character death, like the tiniest hint at a possible suicide at the end if you squint.

description: It’s been two months since your abductor Taeyong was arrested and apprehended, resulting in his death after he was gunned down by the police. (This is already super long and I didn’t feel like writing Taeyong’s death scene so I’m telling you now lol.) You return home to your family to soon realize that your life as you once knew it was over.

**

"We tried to leave everything exactly how you left it but the detectives were constantly in and out of here touching things. We hope it's okay."

It felt strange standing in your old bedroom, seeing the remnants of your former life. It didn't feel like your room anymore. It felt like you were standing in a stranger's bedroom, invading their space.

You turned your head towards the doorway where both of your parents stood nervously. They looked at you with anxious hopeful eyes as they awaited your reaction.

"It's fine." You answered.

You could see your father visibly breathe a sigh of relief.

"Well, we’ll let you get settled and then if you want, we'd like to have dinner together as a family?" Your mother hesitantly suggested,

"Only if you want to. If you'd rather be alone, we understand-

"I'd rather be alone for now." You responded as you took a seat on the edge of your bed.

Your mother frowned slightly but quickly recovered, “It’s okay. We won’t push you.”

The two of them quietly exited your room, leaving you to your lonesome. As soon as the door closed you were up on your feet and over to the door to lock it. You pressed your ear up against the door to listen as their footsteps descended down the hallway. When you were sure they were gone and the door was secure, you moved over to the window in the room, double checking the locks.

That’s how you spent the first few weeks back at home, constantly checking the locks and making sure the entire house was secure. It nearly drove you mad as you compulsively checked the locks on all the doors and windows, you could never convince yourself that the house was ever safe so you resorted to barricading yourself in your bedroom most of the time.

You had become a hermit, only coming out of your room when absolutely necessary. It angered you that this is what your life had slowly become. When you were still with Taeyong, you had all these grandiose ideas of all the things you would do once you reclaimed your freedom. When in reality, you ended up doing the exact opposite.

You had managed to avoid your friends and your fiancé for the first few weeks being home but inevitably over time news of your return had spread to everyone. You expected to have people lined up around the block waiting to see you. You were just a shell of your former self, but before life with Taeyong, you were someone that people naturally gravitated towards, you always had many friends.

Surely someone would come and see you, right?  

But truthfully, no one knew what to say to you and it was easier to just ignore your existence than it was to try and engage in conversation. You had been ostracized by your peers. You didn't know whether to be offended or thankful that people seemed to be avoiding you.

Of course, you still had a few close friends that would try and stop by and speak to you only for you to send them away before they could get a glimpse of you. After a while what little people were still trying to see you had gotten the message and left you alone altogether.

Your fiancé wasn't exempt from this treatment. He had tried numerous times to get you to come out of your room and at least let him look at you. At times it was tempting. You hadn't seen him the better half of a year and you wanted to see him badly, but you couldn't have him see you this way.

Not when you yourself were just starting to get acquainted with your new life that didn’t involve anyone or anything that knew the old you. You especially didn’t want your fiancé to see you because you were seven months pregnant now, carrying the child of your abductor.

It was easier to blame not seeing your fiancé on your pregnancy. It was easier for your mind to rationalize avoiding him that way. But you couldn’t lie to yourself, and you knew that it was really because you were certain that your relationship could never be the same once he saw you.

Seeing him, your fiancé, face to face would be confirmation that things were over between the two of you. Your fiancé was always horrible about masking his emotions and you didn't think your heart could take the way he would look at you when he saw that you were carrying another man's child.

You couldn't remember when but at some point, your fiancé had eventually stopped trying to get you to come out of your room as well. Occasionally he'd pop up again and make another attempt but deep down you knew that it was no longer about actually trying to get you to come out of your room and more about him feeling obligated to keep trying.

Spending so much time in your bedroom alone with only your thoughts for company gave you time to reflect on everything that had happened to you in the past year. Specifically, in the last few months since Taeyong had passed.

Images of Taeyong's lifeless corpse plagued your mind. The sound of him colliding with the pavement was permanently sketched into your memory.

You tried everything you could to shake the memories of him from your head but it seemed like everything reminded you of him. Sometimes you'd have hallucinations of him sitting right there beside you that were so vivid you had begun to question your own sanity.

No matter what you did you couldn’t get away from thoughts of Taeyong, you felt so out of sorts. You felt like you were slowly losing your mind. You were finally free of him in an earthly sense, but why couldn’t you get him out of your head?

You grew extremely frustrated with yourself as Taeyong continued to monopolize your conscious, you were so frustrated with things that you often cried yourself to sleep. Sometimes randomly through the day you’d just start crying out of sheer annoyance with yourself.

You desperately wanted this feeling, whatever it was, to leave you. But it seemed like the more you tried to ignore it the more intense it got.

Your doctor chalked it up to hormones but you could feel in your bones that this was different.

You were grieving.

It nearly made you vomit when you had finally put the pieces together as to why you had been feeling so strange.

You were grieving because of Taeyong.

Without disregarding all of the trauma and torture he had put you through you couldn't fight the desolate feeling that consumed you whenever images of him popped up in your mind. Most of all you felt shameful. Shameful for mourning the man that had single-handedly destroyed your life.

You would never be the same person because of him, and here you were shedding tears over him.

There were small pockets of time in which you were able to be completely honest with yourself. In those moments you realized something catastrophic, something that you made you question the entirety of your being. You weren't just mourning him...

You missed him.

The realization only made you ache further. You missed him so much. You missed his voice, you missed his smile, his scent. It only added to your stress that you had to silently deal with these troubling emotions by yourself. You had cut off everyone, there was no one left to confide in.

What would your parents say if you told them that you missed Taeyong?

Your head hurt at the thought of what they might do or say.

They were already treating you like a fragile piece of china. If you told them your true feelings you feared they might think you're unstable and that you needed to be admitted in a hospital somewhere.

In the midst of trying and failing horribly to deal with all of your emotions and stress you couldn’t help but wonder what life might’ve looked like if you had listened to Taeyong all along?

What would it have been like if you actually had tried to build a life with him after getting pregnant?

Would it be any worse than the way you’re living now, the life of a scarred hermit?

Could it be that Taeyong was right along?

Maybe I was destined to be with him..

**

(a/n: I’m so sorry that this is so bad, I really tried y’all lmao. Thanks for all the love on the first part.)

[libra-kirishima]

Could I request some angst-to-comfort with Mirio? I've had a rough past few weeks. Feel free to make it as soul crushing as you want. Also, absolutely love your blog!

Your rough couple of weeks probably long since past by the time I'm getting around to this, but I hope you're doing better babe! Had more fun with this than I'd like to admit. Gender of the reader wasn't specific in the ask so I just went with fem reader. Hope that's ok!

Also includes the very slightest hint of manga spoilers but not to the point where it makes a difference.

You knew you shouldn't be alone.

All you wanted was to be alone, but as you heard the sound of footsteps gaining on you as you walked alone at night you knew you shouldn't be alone. You tried to walk faster, just hoping to make it that last stretch until you were safely back on campus, but you could tell it was no use.

"You shouldn't be walking alone at night like this." The person following you spoke, quickly catching up to walk by your side. You let out the breath you were holding when you saw that the person following you was just your boyfr-

Your ex-boyfriend. It was Mirio all along.

"It's not safe for you to be out this late. I don't want anything to happen to you, you know." He added, approach closer until your bicep touched his. His tone was surprisingly warm, with no hint of condescension. It took you off guard. You could tell that he really cared about you, and that realization hurt more than it should have.

"Get lost." You responded. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say to me.

"I'm not letting you walk all the way back to campus by yourself."

"Oh, now you care what I do?" You rolled your eyes at him stepping away so the two of you were no longer touching. Despite your anguish, you still longed for his contact again after you pulled away. "How did you know I was here anyways? Or where I was going for that matter."

"I saw you sneaking out by yourself, so I followed you."

"So you're stalking me?"

"No! Well, in this case yeah, but-"

"Why?"

"I told you that I didn't want anything to happen to you." You were clearly feeling argumentative, but he spoke back to you with a casualness that honestly made you jealous. You rolled your so hard that he was surprised they didn't fall out of their sockets.

"No, not that. Why do you always feel this weird need keep tabs on me in general? Following me around, pairing up with me for group projects, trying to sit next to me at lunch or in the common rooms, calling me and texting me constantly even when I said I never wanted to hear from you again."

"I just wanted the chance to talk to you." He admitted. "I want to tell you everything but you haven't even spare me a second glance."

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say." You repeated, turning away in hopes of ignoring the holes his stare were burning into your skin. You noticed that he drifted closer to you, so you were once again shoulder-to-shoulder. Despite retaining your anger, you allowed his touch to linger this time.

"Why?" He asked you sincerely. It was the first time he spoke to you in a way suggesting anything other than his typical optimistic nonchalance. You chose not to answer him, instead allowing the few steps to the front gate to be silent. You reached out to pull it open, but found it locked.

"Fuck me-" You groaned. Mirio moved to try the gate himself, though it still wouldn't budge.

"(Y/N)," He spoke again. "Please just talk to me. If you still hate me afterwards I understand. I know I hurt you. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself knowing that I hurt you irreversibly." For the first time since you noticed he was following you, you allowed yourself to really look at him. You felt the love he still had for you in his eyes. It was a gaze you missed, knowing that it was all for you. It made your heart ache with every second you stared at it. He wasn't yours anymore and it hurt to remember. You knew you shouldn't cave this easily, but you would allow yourself the indulgence for tonight.

"I'm going to try to find another way on campus. You have until I do to say whatever you need to. No exceptions. And if nothing changes when you're done you have to agree to leave me alone. Deal?" He nodded eagerly, chasing after you like a lost puppy as you began walking along the campus border.

"I- um- uh, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be." He scratched the back of his neck nervously. You shot back a sarcastic 'Is it?' to which he nodded. "I didn't think I'd get this far." He admitted. You shot him a bewildered look, watching the way he fiddled with his hands. Things you'd seen Amajiki do countless times but it was a strange look on Mirio. He was confident, bold, self assured even at his weakest points. It dawned on you that you must really mean something to him to be allowed to see this side of him. In the near three years you'd dated him, you'd only experienced him like this a handful of times. "I'm sorry." He finally spoke after a while.

"That's what you followed me out here to say?"

"I can't tell you enough times how sorry I am."

"You've told me that you're sorry countless times but do you know what you're sorry for? Do you care? Or are you just telling me what you think I want to hear?" You asked, too weak to continue making eye contact with him. You busied yourself feeling along the bars of the fence, no longer looking for anything in particular. The silence that passes makes you assume that you were right.

Part of you knew that that was the case all along.

So why did it hurt so much?

Would you seriously rather hear empty repetitive apologies? Did you really want to continue to be told what you wanted to hear without depth or meaning? No. It had nothing to do with anything he said. What you really wanted more than anything was your boyfriend back. But you wouldn't let yourself be used again. You didn't want to feel the sort of pain he put you through again. Your tears threatened to overflow right as he spoke.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you. I know I hurt you in so many ways and I can't take back any of them. That kills me to know, and I can't tell you how bad I feel about it. I'm sorry I pushed you away for so long. I was so afraid to tell you what I was feeling in the moments leading up to when we broke up. How much I hated myself for letting Eri go. How afraid I was that I couldn't save her. How hard it hit me after losing Sir Nighteye. I wanted to shield you from all of it. I was so afraid of losing everything that I pushed the most important person in my life away. I thought that keeping it all to myself would make things better for you, but they only made both of us feel worse." His way of speaking was a lot more composed than you would expect of him. He'd been thinking about all of this for so long. You stopped trying to keep yourself from crying. "When we broke up, in a way I did lose everything." He admitted sadly. "I'm sorry I didn't let you see me when I was in the hospital after I lost my quirk." He continued after a while. "I figured that you would think it was better than it actually was if I kept everything from you. I wanted so badly to keep you from being involved that I ruined the connection we had to each other. On that regard, I'm sorry I never told you that I got my quirk back. I figured you didn't want anything to do with me at that point since you wouldn't listen to me telling you I'm sorry. I didn't think that maybe you wanted to start with a normal conversation. I know you still care about me."

"I do." You said between sniffles.

"I know you do. And I took that for granted for so long. I'm sorry. I can't take that back but I can promise that I'll be better. I'm so glad that you still do. That's why I never stopped trying. If not now then I'd try to tell you I'm sorry until you stopped loving me."

"I can't." You confessed. It wasn't until now that you realized you were sat on the concrete crying. He had sat himself next to you, not fully hugging you but still rubbing soothing circles into your back.

"I'm sorry I threw away almost three years of our relationship so easily. And I'm sorry I spent so long blaming you for it. I should never have blamed you for refusing to put up with the pain I was causing you anymore. I'm sorry I didn't tell you all this sooner."

Mirio kept himself at a distance from you. A choice you appreciated and respected, but at that moment all you wanted was to be held. You leaned over and wrapped your arms around him, sobbing freely into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry too."

"For what?"

"I'm sorry I cut you off. I'm sorry I was so mean to you. I'm sorry if it seemed like I was trying to turn your friends against you with the way I talked about you. I'm sorry I never listened to you. I'm sorry you had to go through these lengths just to talk to me. I love you so much and I didn't want to be hurt anymore. I didn't know what else to do but I shouldn't have done that. I missed you so much that the only way I could think of moving on was to convince myself that I hated you."

"I miss you too." He whispered, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. "I miss being the one that has to wake you up in the morning. I miss being the first person to see your beautiful smile every day. I miss letting you pick the movie and then falling asleep on my chest halfway through. I miss you coming to dinner at my dad's house. I miss you sneaking into my dorm when you get lonely. I can never stay mad at you for long when I see you, even though you wake me up at 2 in the morning." You scrunched your nose up, but laughed softly at his words. "I miss that too. The way your nose would scrunch up like that. I miss hearing you laugh and making you smile. Knowing that I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy."

"Can we start over?" You asked wearily. He nodded, wiping his own tears away before flashing you the smile you loved so much.

"Yeah, I'd like that." He whispered.

You smiled into the crook of his neck before pulling away, leaning in to kiss your boyfriend once more.

[freakie-deakie]

Lucas // How To: Kill an Idea

i have been really struggling with feeling numb lately and i super projected that onto this character. i really do apologize if it doesn’t make for the most interesting read. i may or may not end up rewriting this when i’m feeling better.

Warnings: emotional numbness and detachment

Masterlist

THIS IS PART 2!!! Read part one here: How To: Hurt My Feelings

Lucas x Reader (angst // 7.3k words); ft. stepbrother!Johnny

The way the lights reflected off the water brought only distant memories of the Han flowing through the city of Seoul and mirroring the life around it. The bustle of the city, the calm of the river banks. The things that you neighbored so long ago.

You could become so lost in the remnants of the past - that you would forget to lose yourself in the readiness of the moment.

You owed the Garonne. After tirelessly looking over you for months on end, you owed her your presence at the very least. How dare you look at her in all of her beauty and only think of another.

She smiled at you nonetheless. The Garonne sat with you one last night and told you how much she would miss you - how much all of Bordeaux would miss you. She told you that the stone buildings, the ones in the alleyway that you cut through every night as you return to your dorm, didn't know what they were going to do without you. She told you that the little birds that had nested outside of your window had practiced a sadder song to sing after you left. She swore that the lights in the city shone brighter than they ever had before when you landed and that they would fade upon your departure.

She made you promise that you would come back to see all of them: the buildings, the birds, and the lights. On your own accord, you promised you would come back to see her.

The Garonne waved you off that night, sending you to bed and wishing you a restful slumber and a safe flight in the morning.

Tired and stiff, you limp out of the terminal with your laptop clutched to your chest and a yawn escaping your lips. You mindlessly followed the crowd of other travelers to baggage claim and patiently waited for your suitcase to be sorted onto the conveyor belt.

"Pardon me, Mademoiselle," a familiar voice reached your ears, "I believe a poor boy has been waiting far too long to see you here."

You spun on your heel, a bright smile suddenly overtaking your features. "Lucas," you call quietly as you envelop him in a tight hug. You had barely moved for sixteen hours straight, but once in his arms, every desire for motion ceased. It seemed that he agreed, as he latched onto you and refused to let go.

"I missed you," he admitted before placing a kiss on the top of your head and moving to grab your bag off the belt.

"I missed you more," you answered softly.

He took your hand and kissed it before leading you through the airport and down to the parking garage where your brother was waiting, leaned up against his car, and dusting the cigarette ashes off of his sleeve.

"Hey there, Miss France," he says as he moves to envelop you in a hug of his own. "How was your flight?"

"It was fine," you answer simply. "Long, but fine."

"Well, you have an hour-long car trip to give us the highlights of France, if you're not too tired. We could stop by a late-night diner too if you're hungry."

You nodded along as you climbed into the car, enjoying the banter after your long trip. But as you rode in the passenger seat home (funny, you thought, that you still called it home), you took in things about the city that you never really appreciated.

The locals that ignored the do-not-cross signs, the billboards that were so shrouded in smog that you could barely read them, the stray cats that freely wandered the city like it was their own personal playground. All the things that you used to neighbor.

And when you got to the bridge that you'd longed to see since you left, the Han welcomed you home with as much love for you as it had six months ago. You made it a point to tell him about the Garonne sometime. You think he would enjoy hearing about her.

"The pastries," you say simply. "It was France; of course the pastries were the best."

Johnny dropped you back at your apartment and your boyfriend opted to stay the night, helping you settle back into the space that you could once again call your own.

Another tenant had contracted your apartment for the time you were away - there were a few more cuts and bruises than you remember leaving, but it was nothing you couldn't patch up. The bed wasn't where you had it, the shower knobs had been replaced, and an empty curtain rod rest stretched along your window seal.

"The stuff you left with us, it's still back at the frat," he chuckles awkwardly.

"That's okay." You offer him a small smile and plop down on one of the only four pieces of stand-alone furniture left in the space, the old black sofa in the same spot it's always been. "At least they didn't take my couch."

"Y/N, darling, I don't know if I would lay on that if I were you."

His words took a moment to register, but when they did your eyes shot open and you were out of your seat comically fast. "Oh God, ew..."

He laughed again and pressed a small kiss to your temple. "Let's take a shower and then we'll figure things out, okay? And you know, you don't have to sleep here tonight. There are no sheets on the bed or anything, so you can-"

You cut him off with a quick kiss and lead him to the bathroom, ready for a warm shower to take away all of your travel pains.

"Not really," you answered honestly, rolling your head to the side to look at your boyfriend. You'd been looking at his ceiling for a while, head resting on his thigh while he played with your hair. It felt nice, you thought, to get a chance to live in your memories - specifically the memories you had left with him here in his room, the ones that always waited for you while you were away. "All of my days in France were spent doing something or another. By myself, with the people that I met. So no, it never really got mundane. I didn't think that kind of life existed for anyone over the age of nine." You let out a small but heavy breath. "I guess I had to experience it for myself to understand."

Lucas doesn't say anything for a moment. Instead, he focuses on gently detangling a knot that his fingers had caught on. Your hair was longer now than it was.

"I'm happy for you," he reassures you. He doesn't quite know what he's reassuring, but he reassures you nonetheless.

"Lucas?" you ask softly.

"Hmm?" he responds, his gruff voice sounding tired.

"What would you have done if I didn't come back?" His finger stop working in your mess of locks and all of his attention is focused on dissecting what you just asked him.

"I don't know what answer you want me to give you," he says smally, glancing down at you before retraining his gaze on the ceiling, its texture nearly lost in the dark.

"There isn't a certain answer I want. I'm just curious."

"I don't understand the question," he almost interrupts, suddenly a bit tenser than he was only moments ago.

"I don't mean anything by it, Lucas. It's not a loaded question." Your soft voice is enough to lul his hand back to its comforting motions. "Would you have gone after me or would you have let me go?"

"I would have gone after you without a second thought. Definitely, I would have."

"I thought about staying you know."

There's a pause, a small silence of thought on both ends.

"Why didn't you," he asks with genuine curiosity.

"It wasn't home. You weren't there."

A wolf whistle follows you into the kitchen the next morning and you feel the need to suppress your groan.

"If I knew you were staying the night, I would have held a cup against the door."

"Oh, gross, Jaehyun," you sneer, turning to jab your elbow into the older boy's side.

"What? Not everyone gets to tour France." You can't help but dramatically roll your eyes and threaten him with a punch.

"Do you want a cup of coffee? I was about to put on a pot."

"Sure," he smiles gratefully. "And you can tell me about Bordeaux while we wait."

"Oh, it was beautiful," you think back as you prepare the grounds. "As the sun was setting, the sky would turn golden. If there were any clouds that evening, they would turn all different shades of pink. The lights over the water - words wouldn't do it justice."

Jaehyun chuckles before yawning out, "Well, that's a first."

"Jung Jaehyun, if you are trying to say that I talk too much-"

"That's not what I'm saying," he defends. "I mean you always have a way with words. It's your thing, ya' know. Words."

You hum, turning back to your task. "I guess I hadn't thought about it that way - at least not for a while."

The door to the kitchen swings open and another boy ungracefully stumbles into the kitchen. Haechan is clad in a plain T-shirt and dark shorts (if you could call them that). His hair is no longer silver; it's now a dusty brown, curling up into the picture of a sandstorm blowing about his head. He looked healthier, or maybe just more mature since you last saw him. He'd filled out a bit, and grown into those long limbs of his.

"Man, what's will all the commotion in here? It's Saturday and- Y/N?" The boy immediately perks up upon seeing you. "Oh my gosh, Y/N! You're back!" He hugs you and sits down at the island beside his older friend, suddenly as energetic as a child on Christmas morning. "Great, because I made a list of pranks we're gonna pull together. Jaehyun, since you're here, I guess you can help us too. Okay, first of all, we're gonna shove a bag of chocolate powder mix down the shower drain. I'd like to make sure that one gets Mark because he blamed me for breaking Johnny's lamp."

There were things you would have to readjust to in Korea. Things that you didn't think would catch you off guard, yet still managed to turn you around every now and again. The wet bath was one of them; you were going to miss your tub. You also suddenly found bowing a bit more strange than you originally had, as well as keeping personal space when you greeted someone altogether. Most prominently, the language barrier that you weren't so sure you'd ever really overcome in your first life in Korea.

Words were suddenly weird to you again. Ideas that could manifest themselves in one language but not another. At times, there were no proper parallels, nor were there ways in which to express everything going on inside your head.

Though you tried your hardest, what little French you learned simply wouldn't translate properly to English, or the English wouldn't translate to Korean, or the Korean to French, or the French to Korean, or the Korean to the English. The words just never came out the way you wanted them to, and in a way, it was like a piece of you fell away from the rest, lost somewhere between all of your different lives.

Lucas noticed how much quieter you seemed since you'd returned.

You made it a point to generally avoid contact with everyone while you were away. You occasionally checked in with them to let them know that you were alive, but other than that had kept your space. You became more dedicated to learning about yourself and how to care for your well-being. You began making decisions of your own, from what you would eat every night and how early you would wake up every morning to what debacles were worth your time and energy. You decided that most of them weren't. You decided that pondering your life was taking years off of it, and that you didn't like to eat snails. You decided that you weren't so bad after all, and for that matter, no one else was either. You decided to live.

"Hey, can I see something on your Instagram real quick?" you asked softly, setting your bowl of fancy ramen on the coffee table in front of you. "I think one of my friends just had a baby and I wanted to see if she's posted any pictures yet."

Without giving it much thought, Lucas hands you his phone and turns back to his meal. "What happened to your Instagram?" he questioned.

"Deleted it," you quip, pulling up your friend's account. He hears you coo before you shove the device back into his hands, urging him to look at the baby. He thought the child, redfaced and wet, looked like an alien, though he'd never tell you that.

"Why'd you delete it?" he pursues.

You simply shrug and cover more of your legs with the blanket that rested on the both of you. "Didn't need it." He gives you an unsatisfied groan, but you can't think of a better answer. It was simple - while you took plenty of photos to document your life, you no longer found it necessary to post them.

"Okay," he tries, "what about your Kakao Story?"

"Deleted."

"So you no longer use Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Skype, Instagram, or Kakao Story? What if someone needs to contact you?"

"I still have Kakao and Discord."

"Okay, what about my posts? Or your other friends'?"

"If they have something to tell me, they will," you sip your hot tea and lean into his side.

"It’s like she doesn't want to talk to me. She doesn't want to talk to anyone," groans Lucas as he sprawls out on Mark's bed. "She doesn't talk nearly as much as she used to."

Mark's hand didn't stop relaying notes to his journal as he talked with Lucas, translating as many of his lyrical ideas onto paper as he could keep up with.

"She's not the same person she used to be, Lucas."

Lucas had trouble making sense of it, why Mark sounded so sure about that. It almost hurt his pride that one of his roommates was telling him something about you, his girlfriend.

"Who is?" Lucas rubs his eyes. "We've all grown up since then."

Mark's hand halts. "Since then?"

"Since-" he sighs. "Ya' know, since... Since we..."

"Don't hurt yourself," Mark chuckles. "Maybe," he offers, "this chapter of your life is written in a different style. Did you even notice? That your life hasn't been going the same since she got back?"

"Of course it's not the same," the elder defends. "It's infinitely better."

"Spare me. Look, I'm just saying, the less she talks, the more dialog you're putting in your own book. And I think it's better this way. I mean, I can't tell you how to write your life, but I can honestly say I think you're doing better now than you were before. You started using your words instead of acting on impulse. That's not easy, man. Words are hard."

Words: your staple, your foundation, your life. They were your nothing anymore.

And Lucas didn't know how to understand.

He tried not to take it personally, but soon you fell into almost complete silence both with him and his friends. When you joined them for a Smash Bros competition, you didn't exclaim your victories nor mourn your defeats. When you dressed, you didn't ask for his opinions on the color of your lipstick nor the type of heel you should wear. When you laid in bed with him and watched his fan turn above your heads, you refused to humor his desire to hear your voice. And he took the fault upon himself.

He felt guilty asking anything of you anymore because you never opened your mouth to ask for favors in return.

"Y/N, will you come cuddle with me?" he calls with as much endearment as he can shove into his tone.

This was for your own good, he reminded himself.

You hadn't watched the news in months, and he knew that. You, ever the stickler for meaningful conversation, had devoted large portions of your time to staying up to date before. As of late, however, you preferred "to watch the world crash and burn around you from a first-person point-of-view rather than a third-person point-of-view."

He hoped that sitting you down to watch the news for a while would spark a fire in your opinionated soul. So imagine his reaction when you crawled into his arms and fell asleep, paying absolutely no mind to the colors or words on the screen.

His next plan was to plant your favorite novel in the hands of your favorite philosopher.

This was for your own good, he reminded himself.

He shoved the book into Doyoung's hands with a stern "fix her." Needless to say, Doyoung had the book read within a couple of days and Lucas invited you over as soon as his friend flipped through the pages for the final time.

"A piece of modern art," he suggests. "A sorrow lost to the sands of time and a meaning forgotten by society."

Lucas watches in amazement as you sit and nod along to everything that Doyoung says. You didn't interject your ideas even once. You just listened.

He was running out of ideas. So his last plot was his last hope that there may be a bit of yourself left inside of you. He would take you on a date - the best date you've ever been on - and thrust so much happiness and gratefulness onto you that you wouldn't be able to contain it so silently. He knew it was a dirty trick, but how else was he to make sure that you were okay if you would no longer tell him anything about yourself.

This was for your own good, he reminded himself.

Really, he should have asked you out first, before he came barging into your apartment (tidier than he'd ever seen it before and reeking of cleaner) with a bundle of flowers and demanding your attention for the evening.

Surprise.

He was about to push open the door to your bedroom when he heard a soft sniffle from inside. His eyes widened and his shoulders fell. His heart broke when he heard a small sob fall from your lips.

He peeked inside. It was dark, mind the laptop that sat on your desk and illuminating your shaking form. You laid your head on one arm and used your other hand to rake through your stringy hair. Your glasses had been tossed to the shadowy void and your cheeks were wet and sticky.

The header of your philosophy paper stared you down as you unraveled before it. The rest of the blank page was absolutely daunting. Your acceptance of the world around you had drained away your ability to have a coherent cognitive thought about it, forget about writing one.

To some extent, you missed the days when you were confident in your ability to build empires out of words. Now, you couldn't even build a ten-page paper, especially not by 11:59 pm that night.

To a greater extreme, you couldn't understand why you would want to return to your opinionated ways or your charismatic skills that abused fact until it bent to your will. What purpose did fact or, more importantly, idea have anymore, other than to aid your ability to charm others to abide by your purpose?

It felt wrong to write a definitive philosophical thesis, especially when you couldn't bring yourself to definitively believe in anything particular.

"Y/N," you jumped at the sound of your own name and quickly wiped your cheeks with the back of your sleeves, sitting up straighter and making yourself more presentable before you turned around to face him. Lucas saw it all. He watched you put your mask back on right before his eyes, and he realized that you were hurting in ways that he couldn't see until now.

"Lucas," you cursed your shaky voice. "What's up? Why are you here?"

He takes a few quiet steps until he's standing before you and kneels to look into your eyes. There are things that he wants to say, 'you're scaring me' being the most prominent, but he knows he should choose his words more carefully.

"I want to know what's going on. I want to help." He slips his hands into your own and rests them on your knees.

"I just don't think you can," you answer simply.

"Can you tell me what's the matter?"

You shake your head and the tears come rushing back to your eyes. "I don't know what's the matter." It's honest. You don't know why your head can't wrap around your assignments, or your conversations, or your own thoughts as of late.

All that time spent with yourself taught you how to understand yourself and your own needs. You feel that you have exchanged your understanding of the world around you for a simpler version of life. Did that make you selfish? You didn't know.

All Lucas could do was watch you as you fell back into your frustrations. It didn't take long before your brows were knitted back together, your nose was running, and your eyes had glazed over as you retreated back inside of yourself.

"Y/N," he softly called. Your eyes only met his for a second before they were cast somewhere else and your attention ran away from you once again.

"I think," you started, unsure of every word that slipped past your lips. "I think you should go."

You didn't know how to explain to him that you were afraid of what he might think of you at that moment, or that you didn't want to hurt his feelings any more than you guessed you already had.

"I don't want to go. I'm tired of leaving you alone." He stood, gently pulling you to stand with him, and led you to the edge of your bed with a delicate touch. "You don't have to sleep. You don't have to talk. Just lay here with me for a little while and let me be close to you."

"You know," Lucas started as he tossed the noodles in the pan. He'd tucked you into the couch earlier that evening and told you to forget the paper you'd been stressing over. You happily complied. "I don't know how to say this any better." You listened keenly as you pulled a throw pillow into your lap and wrapped yourself around it. "I know that this is probably the last thing you want to talk about, but I did something very wrong to you. I'm still sorry, and I hope you know that. But..." He cast you a quick glance over his shoulder before reaching for the seasoning in your pantry. "I don't think I ever gave you the chance to yell at me. Or like, to be mad at me - ya' know?"

You thought for a moment, front teeth chewing on your thumbnail before you shook your head softly and answered, "I don't want to yell at you. I don't want to be mad at you."

You heard a repressed sound of discouragement before looking to see him dishing your dinner plates. "I wish you would. I wish you would yell at me and tell me what I did was wrong. I wish you would be angry with me for a little while. I wish you would just tell me something about how you feel about it."

He handed you your plate and watched as you ran back inside of your own head. He watched your eyes glaze over as you replayed his words, and yet you made sense of almost none of them. You didn't understand what he was asking of you.

You toyed with your food as you tried to process his request. You didn't even notice when he took his seat beside you, nor did you notice the burning gaze he watched you with.

"Y/N," he called, shaking you out of your trance. "I want you to yell at me." You looked at him like a deer caught in headlights - big black eyes staring down a deadly light. "How did you feel when it happened? Shout something horrific at me about what was going through your head at the time."

You took a small bite and swallowed, training your eyes on the coffee table before you. "I don't remember."

You looked so small, so helpless, and so distant. You were there, right next to him, and yet you were so far away. He was having trouble finding you.

"Yell. Break something. For fuck's sake, please."

The more pressure he applied, the further you seemed to slip away. Before he knew it, you were gone.

"That's not her anymore." He found himself on Mark's bed once again, tucked into the younger boy's covers and pouring out his heart. "She's not all there. She just looks so empty now."

"Dude, I don't know why you come to me for this sort of thing. It's not like I'm just great with girls," the younger quips from his desk chair. "And Johnny would know more about her than I would-"

"No. He absolutely cannot know that I broke his sister."

Mark hummed in thought for a moment before he laid his pen down in his textbook and turned his full body to his friend. "Lucas, be honest with me about something." Lucas nodded. "Did you see anyone else while she was in France?"

Lucas shook his head as he took in his friend's words carefully. He had no right to be mad at the accusation, so he kept his temper in check until a particularly vile thought trotted across his mind. He sat up immediately. "Oh God, do you think that she did? Do you think she considered it a break and she slept with someone else?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying- hey- Lucas, stop." Lucas was already to his feet and out the door before he could finish. "So not my fault," he grumbled to himself.

Finally, it all made sense to him. You couldn't be mad at him if you were also guilty. You couldn't yell at him for committing a sin you'd also committed. He was going to redress the scale. He was going to make you the word again. He was going to be the action.

The solid thuds against your wooden door made you jump up from your floor. Adrenaline spread through your fingertips and you took a step back towards your bedroom.

"We need to talk."

Lucas sounded angry. You pushed and pulled with your memory, but found no trace of experiencing this feeling before: fear of him. You moved against your gut to let him in. You barely opened the door before he pushed his way inside, rattling off accusation after accusation.

"Did you think we were on a break? Because we weren't on a break."

You just listened.

"Did you just forget about me while you were there? Did you just ignore the fact that I was waiting for you? I was stuck here, waiting for you every day while you were in France."

You didn't speak.

"So you just got to do whatever you wanted while I had to sulk here? You just couldn't control yourself, huh? Do you know how hard it was to keep control of myself while you were gone?"

'It was hard?' you thought.

"How about we take another break then? How about this time, I get to sleep with whoever I want? Well? Aren't you even going to open your mouth to defend yourself?"

You didn't.

"Am I wrong?" He prompted. "I didn't think so. Now we're on a break. Now you can fuck around with whoever you want."

Shocked couldn't begin to describe the state he left you in. You stood there, clambering for answers as to what could have sent him on a warpath to your apartment in the first place. His seemingly unprompted fit of jealous rage couldn't really have been sparked without a cause, you figured.

Maybe he'd seen pictures of you with your male friends in France. Maybe a rumor had been spread about you. Maybe he was just tired of you and feeding himself a rotten narrative as an excuse to break up with you.

You didn't want to know. You opted to rather accept his decision, and all of your own emotions that came flooding back with it.

"Hey man, have you talked to Y/N lately? She took one of my classes last year, and I wanted to see if I could get her notes before semester tests." Haechan asks his elder who lay sprawled on the couch.

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p.'

"What?" Haechan asked, looking up from his phone. "What do you mean you haven't talked to her?"

Lucas lazily yawned and reached for his soda can beside him. "It's not like she's my girlfriend or something. I'm not her keeper."

"Shit, Lucas, you didn't," Mark groaned, rubbing his temple.

"No, you were right. She was sleeping with other guys while she was in France. She didn't even try to deny it."

"Hang on, I never said that. You conjured that one up all on your own, buddy."

Haechan frowned as his frat members debated. He was focused on a much bigger issue at large.

"When did you break up with her?" he asks cautiously.

"Hey, we're just on a break. Don't go getting any ideas-"

"Jesus fuck, can your ego get any bigger?" Lucas crossed his arms and refocused his attention on the television, jaw clenched tightly. "You're so annoying," Haechan mumbled under his breath, already moving towards the door and shooting your brother a message telling him to meet in front of your apartment.

"Damn, you got called annoying by Haechan. How does that feel?"

"Can it, Lee."

You could feel it all, the swarm of emotions swirling and twirling around inside your chest, and yet you couldn't begin to name any of them. All you knew was that it hurt and you wanted it to stop.

You laid in your bed and watched your ceiling fondly. You liked how it didn't move. You didn't struggle to keep up with it. And it was dependable; it would always be there.

You didn't move when the knock at your front door finally registered in your ears; you were tired of playing doorman in your own residence.

You were just tired actually.

"Y/N," Johnny called, lightly pushing open the door to your bedroom. A strong sense of deja vu winded you. You knew this scene, you'd lived it before. "It's me and Haechan. I'm sorry we didn't call first." You didn't know how they managed to get inside, nor did you care. You just wanted to sleep.

Johnny took a seat next to you on the side of your bed. He brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes in an attempt to capture your attention. That's when the smell hit you. The heavy stench of cigarettes washed over all of your senses causing you to retract from his touch. He looked shaken at first, scared that he might have hurt you.

"You didn’t smoke before," you recalled. It was almost a feat in and of itself to remember the bitter past, but the small victory was stifled by the thick, wet air of the bitter present.

His eyes softened before he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack he'd bought just a few days before. "I started a few months ago while you were away. I knew you wouldn't be happy about it."

"I don't care," you answered promptly before slowly pulling yourself to sit up against your headboard.

Haechan watched from the doorway. He wondered if he'd ever seen someone in this state before, or if he ever would again. He looked at you and almost failed to see the human being in front of him. He watched you move like a frightened animal, stiff and weary. He watched your untrained gaze flicker between your brother and your brother's outstretched hand. 

This couldn't have just been the work of Lucas, he concluded. There were more deeply rooted implications here. There was an unresolved issue before your idiot boyfriend played to his own role.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"I don't know," you answered honestly.

Johnny looked to Haechan for support, but the younger could offer only his presence in this situation.

"That's okay," your brother soothed. "Haechan," he turned to your mutual friend, "can you call Ten and Yuta and see if they've, uh, noticed anything weird lately about..." He gestured to you. Haechan excused himself to place the calls. "Food? Food always helps, right?" he tried with a dry chuckle. You paid absolutely no mind to him.

"I can't take this," Ten muttered to himself, excusing himself from your bedroom. Five boys had soon found themselves huddled in your doorway, watching your every move intently as you resisted every attempt your brother made to move you.

You felt like a lab rat, being looked at from all angles as Johnny poked and prodded to see what would make you tick. It felt humiliating.

"Let's just go for a drive," he tried again, gently pulling your arms away from your chest and trying to guide you out of bed.

"No," you answered again, pulling yourself away from him and settling further back into your bed.

"Maybe we should just let her be for tonight," Jaehyun suggested, moving to stand beside your brother whose head was fallen in defeat.

"I can't just leave her like this, Jae. I still don't understand what's going on."

"Just give her some space," Jaehyun tried again. "This clearly isn't very effective."

Johnny sighed but ended up in compliance as everyone except for Jungwoo moved to your living room. They quietly deliberated as Jungwoo read allowed one of your favorite novels from the end of your bed, hoping against all hope that it would in some way bring you back from the void in which your mind seemed to currently reside.

"Honestly, we had planned to just come and cheer her up," Haechan had said. "We didn't know we'd find her like this. But I can't say it really surprised me, she's been off for months now."

"I thought something seemed weird. She hasn't said much to me in a while."

"Me either."

"Yeah, same."

Everyone generally agreed with Ten's statement.

"Do you guys think something happened in France?" Jaehyun suggests.

"Or maybe things haven't been going so well between her and Lucas for a while?" Yuta offers.

"Everything just feels like it's spinning," you said, cutting off Jungwoo's reading of Mary Shelley's finest work. He was just happy to have heard you say anything at all. "Everything is going so fast around me. I just wanna take a nap, sleep for a while." As you relayed your simple disposition, you found yourself moving to lay on your side, plenty warm but unwilling to relinquish your comforter. "I don't feel like I belong here, so I'm going to sleep instead."

Jungwoo set the book to the side and laid himself down at the end of your bed. "I don't feel like I belong here sometimes either," he relates.

"But you do," you say, looking over his features and seeing every sharp and jagged curve for the first time.

"You do too," he promises.

Hours of hushed worries bled into the night, and you awoke alone in your apartment in the morning. You had no initial intention of getting out of bed. It was the hardcover copy of Frankenstein standing upright on your bedside table that stirred your aching joints into motion.

Then you remembered.

How could you ever even forget?

The Han River smiled when you arrived, taking a seat on his bank. He asked you why you'd been such an unfamiliar face as of late, to which you had no reply. He thanked you for coming to visit him nonetheless and told you about how much Seoul had missed you while you were away. He told you about the alley cats and how they missed the treats you would occasionally leave for them on your way to classes. He told you about how much the sky cried about you spending spring away. He told you that the city lights drowned out the stars while you were gone, but let them peak back into the city when you returned.

You had no beating heart to pour out into his water, so instead, you gave him your soul. The Han understood and sat with you until you bore no more faults on which to complain. He told you he missed you. You told him that you missed him too. You told him about the Garonne and how much you thought he would like her. Then he sent you off into the afternoon bustle of the city with a watchful eye.

You wondered the streets for a while. Not a penny in your pocket, and still you found so many little joys in all the cracks and crevices of Seoul. You pet the stray cats; they'd always been particularly fond of you. You walked around an antique shop making wild guesses about the past lives of every item in sight. You climbed a tree in the park without a damn to spare the onlookers. By sunset, your feet had taken you back to your campus and directly to the front door of your apartment.

"How about some tea?" you ask yourself as you push the door open, not half expecting to be ambushed by a group of concerned young men demanding to know where you were.

"Would you all like some tea too?"

It was still a struggle to hear your voice most of the time, but visible relief settled over those who'd seen you cowering from your brother in your bedroom only days prior. They all continued to check in on you frequently, as they still had difficulties coaxing you away from your apartment.

"Lucas," Johnny had finally caught him lurking in the kitchen around midnight. He was beginning to grow irritable with how troublesome he had become to locate.

Lucas froze, cup ramen clasped in one hand with chopsticks in the other. Busted like a child with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Look, I'm sorry about your sister," he started without really knowing where he was going. "I know that I kinda jumped the gun-"

"I don't want to fight with you again," the elder said. He had kept his calm since the situation had arisen. The last time you and your boyfriend had a falling out, all hell broke loose in their dorms. He had landed a good solid punch on the more-than-deserving idiot and held the belief that he probably deserved a few more. However, he'd rather not have everyone in a frenzy once more, turning against one another. "I just need you to tell me what was going on before you left."

Lucas's shoulders slump and he sets his late-night meal on the countertop. "I was just so frustrated. She always let me into her head before - but when she came back, she just stopped talking to me. She shut me out," he relayed. "I tried everything I could think of. I tried to make her really happy, I tried to make her really mad. She wouldn't talk to me."

"She won't talk to me either," Johnny said, resting a reassuring hand on Lucas's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he responds, taking some measure of the blame upon himself. He felt that maybe if he'd had more patience with you, he could have helped you to get better. Now you were detaching yourself from not only him but your other friends and family as well. "Do you think she would want to see me?"

Your brother shrugged but a small smirk played on his lips. "I dunno. Maybe you should go find out tomorrow."

Needless to say, Lucas felt displaced and burdened by heavy guilt as he stood in your doorway, looking down on your fragile body. The last time he came knocking on your door in the most awful hours of the morning, he begged and cried on his knees for you not to leave him. He felt himself resist the urge to fall to the ground and repeat his mantra of pleas.

You didn't ask him why he was there so early in the morning, nor did you ask him if he wanted to come in. Your stare made his skin feel cold. He cleared his throat to dispel some of the awkward tension that he felt clawing at his airways.

"Can I come in?" Without a word, you moved to the side. "Thank you. Were you asleep?"

"No," you say simply, trailing behind him as he steps into your kitchen.

He lets out a low chuckle as he glances around the room. It looked so surprisingly unhomely and clean. Not a single dish in the sink, nor a potted plant out of place. "I keep messing up pretty badly, don't I?"

He hated the empty way you looked at him. It was as if you didn't know him. It was as if you had just let a complete stranger into your apartment.

"I don't understand, and I'm really trying to. I know that you know that things have changed since you got back. I don't know what that means yet, but I do know that I still love you. And that I'm stupid. I know that too."

You hummed along, a thoughtful expression overtaking your blank features.

"And I know that I’m sorry. I let a stupid idea get into my head and I let it hurt my own feelings. I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. Please don't leave me."

You didn't offer an answer, instead opening your arms and inviting him back into your embrace. He placed a small kiss on your lips, something he felt like he hadn't done in ages, and wrapped himself around you in an effort to keep you by his side forever.

"Are you happy here in Seoul?" your boyfriend asked, picking at the grass in front of his crossed legs. He looked at you as you looked down at the water. "I mean, I know you don't want to go back to (country), and I have a feeling that you don't exactly want to go live with my family in China. But like, would you rather be in Bordeaux? Or would you rather stay here?"

"I don't know." He hummed and waited for you to elaborate, but you made no real effort to.

"I know that we're still young and we don't have to make any decisions about where we want to live yet," he cooed, looking up to watch the sun set behind the large city towers, "but would you stay here in Seoul with me for a little while?"

You nodded, reaching over to take his hand in your own before pulling him to lay in the grass with you.

"You know, you're not the same person that you were before you left. I've realized that," he said with a sad smile as he looked over at you and placed a small kiss on your chin, pulling a small giggle from your lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I can't wait to get to know you again."

[wienerbarnes]

Witch Bitch

Pairing: Bucky x Witch!Reader

Word Count: 3,943

Warnings: witch stuff, burning at the stake 😳

A/N: this is heavily inspired by american horror story: coven bc i recently watched and ive been binging all of it lately but its not necessary to know anything about ahs lol i kinda just used their fancy magical terminology and concepts bc they were cool🤪 

MAIN MASTERLIST

The best time of the day was breakfast. It was the time when Bucky, Sam, and Sharon were most often together. Sometimes training overlapped and they missed lunch. Sometimes missions ran long or friends were in town and they missed dinner. But the morning? They were all early birds, all awake by seven. They took that shared characteristic and shared breakfast together whenever they could. Bucky usually took care of the coffee, Sam usually took care of the eggs and bacon, and Sharon usually took care of the bagels, toasting them to perfection before slathering on a layer of cream cheese.

It was a moment of peace in their day. Quiet before the noise of the gym or the conference room or the jets or the private trainings or the interviews with prospective agents or anything else they do on a daily basis. It was a time for three friends to just sit and eat and enjoy each other's company as though they are just that: three friends. Not super soldiers or captains or special agents. Just people being normal. Normal doesn’t last long, though. It never does for them.

Bucky’s on dish washing duty this morning while Sam and Sharon chat idly behind him, waiting for him to finish so they can all leave together. A soft voice interrupts them, though, making the three of them stop what they’re doing because no one has access to this floor except for the people that live here - meaning them three.

“Who’s in charge here?” You ask.

“Who the hell are you?! How did you get up here?!” Sharon asks, ignoring your question.

You were in a long, flowy black skirt, slit cut in the left side exposing your leg, and a long-sleeve black shirt, tucked beneath the waistband. Think black boots cover your feet and a black hat sits on your head to complete your look. Bucky almost doesn’t notice the folded black umbrella underneath your arm as his eyes trail down the multiple chains and necklaces around your neck, falling between your breasts.

“I’ve been trying to find someone to help me but the people in this building are not very helpful. I figured I’d find who’s in charge myself, something that you all don’t seem to want to help me with, either.” You explain.

“The only way to even enter this building is through strict appointment and background checks, and no one’s even allowed past the nineteenth floor.” Sam explains.

“Why are you entertaining this? I’m getting her out of here.” Sharon says, moving to walk towards you to take you out of the building herself.

As she nears closer and closer, you wave your hand lazily, without taking your eyes off Bucky, the only one who hasn’t said anything this whole time, and Sharon collapses on the floor soundlessly.

“Jesus!”

“What did you do!”

Both Bucky and Sam panic as they rush to Sharon’s body on the floor. They frantically run their hands over her body, looking for the point of injury that made her collapse the way she did, but they find nothing. No holes, no blood; she didn’t even make a sound.

“She’s not breathing and she doesn’t have a pulse, what the fuck did you do to her?!” Sam yells at you.

You roll your eyes, “Okay, you got me. I don’t need help finding who’s in charge, I already know it’s you. I still do need your help, though.”

You’re ignored as the two men hover over their friend, unsure of what to do or what even happened to her.

“Oh, alright, move.” You order them, stepping over Sharon’s body.

You stand before her, lifting your hands to hover over her body before closing your eyes and letting out a deep and long exhale. Bucky and Sam watch as it takes only about seven seconds for their friend to suddenly gasp for air, jumping back to life. The boys crowd her once more, checking her eyes, her pulse, everything to convince themselves that she’s actually alive like that, and if she was even dead in the first place.

Sam finally looks back up at you from the ground, as though he just remembered that you’re there, “What are you?”

You smirk in response, ready to finally get what you came here for.

…

“So, you’re a witch?” Sam asks, the four of them now occupying a private conference room for some privacy.

“A witch who killed me.” Sharon adds.

“And a witch that brought you right back.” You reply, leaning back on your chair, leg crossed over your knee, slit exposing your thigh. Bucky’s eye twitch to look at your bare skin for a second before returning to meet your eyes.

“So… what do you do?” Bucky asks.

You smile at his innocent curiosity, “All witches don’t have one universal power. Some are clairvoyant, some do voodoo, some dabble in pyrokinesis, divination, transmutation, descendum,” You glance over to Sharon, who’s still pouting at you, “Resurrection.”

“And can you do all of those?” Bucky asks.

“Almost all of them, but I’m not here to talk about me.”

“Why are you here?” Sharon asks.

“You guys hunt the Nazi’s, right?” You ask, aiming your question towards Sam, knowing he’s the Captain in charge.

“Hydra, yes.” He confirms.

“Well, your Nazi’s somehow got a hold of my magic. And they are playing with very dangerous fire,” You begin.

Bucky interrupts, “We’re all for taking down Hydra, but, don’t you think you’re a little more… powerful than us?” He asks.

“Bucky!” Sharon slaps his arm, as though she’s shocked that he would ever admit such a thing.

“I am. But I’m not that powerful, either. Not anymore, at least. A group of those Hydra invaded the coven my sisters and I were at. I was the only one that escaped.” You tell them.

“Did Hydra take them?” Sam asks.

“No, they killed them.” You respond, growing irritated as the subject grows touchier and touchier.

“Can’t you just bring them back like you did me?” Sharon inquires.

“No! I can’t. Like I said, I’m not that powerful anymore. Maybe I’d be able to bring back a house full of dead girls when it was me and twelve others but it’s just me now. I wouldn’t come all the way over here if I had other options.”

Silence grows over the group as they process what you’ve gone through. Surviving through the massacre of your fellow witches and not being powerful enough to find the people that did it on your own. You’re vulnerable.

“So what can we do?” Sam asks, ready to join forces with you.

“Help me locate the men who did this so I can handle the magic part.” You tell him.

“What magic do they have?”

“Although witches control most of the magic, sometimes it can be taken on in… physical forms. Specifically blood. The blood they retrieved was from a witch that was skilled in Vitali Vitalis.”

“The alive within the living.” Bucky translates.

“There are two worlds: the living and the dead,” You begin to explain, “Vitali Vitalis keeps the balance between these two things and it’s one of the most difficult powers for a witch to master. Oftentimes it’s used to give parts of your own life, health, and energy to someone who needs it. But it can also allow you to take life from someone and give it to yourself.”

“Like immortality?” Sam questions.

“Not quite. Any witch can be killed with a knife or bullet. This kind of magic keeps you from dying of age. I’ve only ever known one witch who mastered it.”

“What happened to her?”

“She used it for evil, like this. Took the souls of hundreds in order to allow herself to live for almost three centuries. Until she was killed, of course.” You finish, a small smile on your lips knowing that she got what she deserved.

“What, you burn her at the stake?” Sharon jokes.

“Yes, actually. We did.” You tell her matter-of-factly, becoming more and more irritated at the fact that she doesn’t seem to take this is as seriously as you are.

Bucky interrupts, sensing the rising tension between the two girls, “So when we find these guys, you’re going to burn them at the stake, too?” He asks.

“Yes,” You say, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “The consequence of using magic like this for evil is death by fire. I hope you all don’t think the rules will change on account of these men being Nazi’s?”

“Well, we just have a different way of doing things -” Sam begin to defend

“Yes, I’m aware. The countless destruction caused by you and other militaries, the millions of innocent lives lost yearly, not only in the constant war and irresponsible handling of your nuclear and alien weaponry, but by incorrect prosecution. Not to mention the billions of dollars spent on your ridiculous prison systems that don’t work when actual bad people escape and the death penalty practices in certain states. I just figured my way was easier. And cheaper.” You reply.

Silence crowds over the four of them once more as they think over all their options.

“I’m in.” Bucky speaks first.

“Me, too. Even if I don’t like you.” Sharon follows.

“Feeling’s mutual, dear.” You smile at her.

The three of them look to Sam, waiting for his commitment as well.

“Alright. Let’s get to work.”

Plans were made, theories of location were thought of, and plans to execute the mission were put into place, all of which included you. A temporary room was given to you when the information of your lack of a place to stay was brought to light. Only for the duration of this mission, is what Sam told you, but you can spot the amount of love and light in his heart from miles away.

It was later that night, and you’ve since cleansed the room, going as far as to place a protective spell on the entire floor. You’ve lost too much already, and you’re not about to risk anything.

A knock at the door sounds and the visitor you’d been expecting has finally arrived. You walk towards the door, still in your clothes from earlier but now you’ve removed your shoes, and open the door to reveal Bucky.

“I was waiting for you.” You tell him.

“How’d you know I’d come?” He asks, stepping through the door when you step aside, silently gesturing to him to enter.

“I can hear your thoughts. You've been debating whether or not to come see me for the past thirty minutes. Your mind is very loud.”

“Tell me about it.” He mumbles to himself, thinking about the countless nightmares, voices, and all the other reminders of just how loud his mind was.

“You can ask all your questions, you know. I won’t take any offence. You’re just curious.” You tell him, settling on your bed, hoping he’ll join you and stop hovering near the door.

Luckily he takes the hint and takes a seat across from you.

“I’ve never met a witch before. A real one, I mean. Like, someone born a witch. Like Salem witches -”

“I understand.” You chuckle lightly.

“You don’t seem… afraid of me. Or, hesitant, rather.” You tell him, thinking about how he’s received your presence here compared to his colleagues.

“I was wary when you killed my friend, but… you just need some help, is all. I’m sorry, by the way, I’m not sure if I said it before, but, I’m sorry for what happened to your friends.” He tells you.

He’s very polite. But you supposed that’s not abnormal considering he got his manners from the 1920’s. You like it, though. You give him an appreciative smile before giving him the okay to ask you whatever he wanted.

“So you said that witches can master multiple powers but have one specialty; is yours resurrection?”

“Yes; it was the first power I ever exhibited when I was a teenager. I was about fourteen or fifteen. My next mastered skill is descendum and then clairvoyance, where I was in my twenties, or so.” You tell him as he looks at you with pure fascination in his eyes.

“What is - what is descendum?”

You pause, “The power to descend your soul down into the afterlife - to hell. And return alive.”

His eyes widened, not even knowing that was something someone can do; not even knowing that hell existed in the first place, “So, you’ve been to hell?”

“Yes. I’ve also been able to retrieve people from hell, their soul. A variation of my power of resurrection, I suppose.” You explain, not being too fond of that power; descending to hell.

Bucky sits in silence for a few minutes, and you let him. You can hear the question lingering around in his head; what he’s thinking. But you let him build up his own courage to ask it. You know he’s only scared of the answer; the answer you know he’s not going to like.

“What is hell like?” He whispers.

“It doesn’t matter what my hell is like. Everyone has their own personal hell they experience when they die.” You tell him.

Confusion clouds his features as he registers your answer.

“Is there… Is there no heaven?”

You smirk, “It’s nice that you’ve remained religious after all this time.”

“Yes, there's heaven. But only for the purest and most innocent of souls. And rarely do people escape life without sin. Everyone has evil in them.” You tell him, knowing it’s a harsh truth that no one wants to hear.

The people Bucky’s killed, the crime he’s committed, the families he’s hurt; it all passes through his mind. Everyone has evil in them.

“What was your hell like?”

“I’m not telling you that.” You tell him quickly.

Bucky ponders what his own hell will be like, after seeing the way you’re clearly shaken up about your own. The fall from the train. The man in a lab coat sawing off the rest of his arm. The needles poking through his skin in the middle of some facility. The chair.

He doesn’t realize that he’s looked away from you until he snaps his thoughts back to the present and sees he’s looking down into his lap. He glances up to see your face, your soft features and kind eyes staring at him. He glances from your eyes to your lips and back up again before clearing his throat, not realizing how close he got to you during his time here sitting on your bed.

“You know, I, uh, I should go. Thank you for, uh, answering my questions, but we head out pretty - pretty early tomorrow, so,” He trails off, standing and patting down his shirt to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles in a nervous habit.

He makes his way towards the door and his hand touches the knob when he hears your voice, “Hey, Bucky?” He turns slightly to face you again, a hum to indicate for you to continue.

“Thank you for coming to see me. And thank you for all the kindness you’ve shown me. You’re a very good person.” You tell him sincerely.

He gives you a nod of you’re welcome before exiting.

He’s not sure if you told him that because you truly mean it, or if it’s because of the state of anxiety and existential crises you’ve put him in now that he’s going to be thinking about his personal hell, but he appreciates it, nonetheless.

He thinks you’re a pretty good person, yourself.

…

The mission goes off without a hitch. The combined skill of the Avengers’ stealth, spyware, and experience along with your magic and witchery makes for an easy capture of the men who killed your witch sisters and stole your magic.

It’s not long before the facility they were at was shut down and cleared out, arresting any officers and rescuing any prisoners or hostages, and the five men specifically responsible for the destruction of your coven are in separate custody. What’s left of the blood is returned to you, as well.

That’s where the group of you stand now, a decision to be made about the criminals you’ve captured. To be put in the maximum security prison floating in the ocean, or to be put to death by fire.

“I don’t believe in being the executioner of people.” Sam tries to convince.

You can’t help but let a laugh escape you, “Do you know who you work for?! Do you know who you are?!” You remind him.

“Those guys can’t escape the Raft.” He tries, referring to prison in the middle of the ocean you’ve heard about.

“You did.” You respond, knowing about when Steve Rogers took him out of that prison, along with other superheros.

You see Bucky and Sharon look between the two of you, torn between how these Hydra criminals should receive their fate. Staring into the hot depths of flames or rotting alone in a cell? Both seem to be too merciful, in Bucky’s opinion.

“This isn’t just running the facility or experiments, Sam. This is different. They were using dark magic to commit crimes. Maybe they should face the consequences of a dark-magic-punishment.” Sharon offers.

You don’t have time to be shocked at Sharon agreeing with you and picking your side before Bucky agrees and Sam is outnumbered. He stares at you and gives a single nod, allowing you to do this your way.

You smile, a silent thank you for giving you the closure and opportunity to serve justice to those who did you harm. “Off to Massachusetts, then.” You tell them, and Sam takes his seat in the pilot's chair, Bucky accompanying him in the front of the jet.

You take a seat, making yourself comfortable for the flight to Salem and you feel a body take the seat next to you. You glance up to see Sharon looking at you, but you notice she has something in her hand, offering it to you.

You look down to see a small plastic bag of fruit gummies. But not just any fruit gummies, you realize. Halloween themed fruit gummies. The pictures on the outside show the various options inside: witch’s hat, a broom stick, a melting pot, a vial, and a magic wand. Hilarious.

You take the gummies, though, accepting her attempt at a truce.

It’s not long before you and your temporary teammates find themselves standing before a large, empty field, multiple wooden stakes standing about fifteen feet tall scattered about with plenty of space in between.

You lead the walk to a group of them standing tall in line, so the men can be burned at the same time, as opposed to one by one. A group of large, burly agents lug the Hydra operatives along, behind you and the rest of the team.

Bucky hangs around your left, as to not be in the way of the black umbrella held in your right hand, and Sam and Sharon trail behind you. You can sense their uneasiness and tune out their worried thoughts. Everyone’s first burning is always an experience; they’ll get over it.

Bucky doesn’t seem worried, though. In fact, you can’t hear his thoughts this time around. But he still stands tall and straight, walking with confidence, so you make a safe assumption that he’s okay.

None of the men’s cuffs or shackles are removed, but thick rope is tied on top of it, around the wrist and looped around the waist, tying them to the stake. The cuffs are special grade - high tech Avengers vibranium - and they can be retrieved later once the fire burns out.

“Any last words?” You ask, more for tradition than whether or not you actually care.

They look scared, obviously not expecting their fate to look anything like this. You remember seeing Bucky tackle one of them in the facility, prying his mouth open to rip out a tooth, or what looked like a tooth, like a dog caught eating something it wasn’t supposed to. A cyanide pill.

Silence comes from them, except for one of them, “Hail Hydra!” He yells, as if that cowardly and pathetic phrase would change anything.

With a raise of your hand, seemingly with no effort, you wave it and the stakes all begin to rise up in flames. There’s nothing to spark, no twigs, no gasoline, nothing, and Bucky watches as the flames rise, growing stronger as they engulf the five men. They begin to scream, and Bucky looks over at you, as if to confirm you didn’t bring gasoline or something with you, and he sees a smile slowly grow on your lips.

They haven’t stopped screaming; they’re still alive when you turn and begin to walk back the way everyone came. Bucky follows, and eventually Sam and Sharon do, too, the other agents staying behind until the end to retrieve the cuffs and shackles that will survive the fire.

“So, now what?” Sharon asks, the air quieter as the screams have slowly stopped in the distance.

I can’t imagine what kind of paperwork follows this, “Back to the tower.” Sam responds.

“The coven’s only a short walk from here.” You say, not needing to elaborate much more. The men have been caught and brought to justice, but you still have a broken, battered, and beaten down coven to fix.

A friend of yours was meant to go by and retrieve the… bodies. Which you’re grateful for. But magic won’t help you fix the walls, the floors, mop the blood, or find other witches in need of an escape and a place to improve and master their powers. You have a lot of work to do.

As the view of the jet gets closer, you prepare to bid your goodbyes to the Avengers, your thank you’s as well. Regardless of your attitude towards them before, you couldn’t have done this without them.

A metal hand engulfs yours, pulling you back a bit as Sam and Sharon continue on.

“Do you need any help?” Bucky’s warm and gentle voice floods your ears, hand still in yours.

“You guys have been more than enough help, now, really.” You try to tell him, but he has none of it.

“You may be tough, but you can’t fix up that house by yourself,” He tells you, “I can be pretty handy, fixed up a few things back in my day.” A soft smile grows on his face.

You glance over his shoulder as Sam and Sharon wait by the entrance of the jet, “Don’t you have to go back?”

“They won’t miss me.” He tells you, not even looking back to confirm with his teammates, hand dropping to run it through his hair.

You giggle at him, before giving him a shy nod in answer to his offer to help you fix up your big house.

“I’m going to hang out here for a few days.” He yells over his shoulder.

“We figured.” Sam calls out, and Sharon throws you a wave as they board the jet, the opening close after them.

“Lead the way?” Bucky offers you, taking your hand once more, interlocking the fingers this time.

And so the two of you are off, one of your hands still clutching the umbrella, holding it above your head, and the other hand interlaced with the one of a handsome and kind super soldier. This wasn’t the way Bucky expected the last two days to transpire, but he’s glad they led to holding the hand of a very pretty witch.