#wash had absolutely nothing to do except act like an idiot for no reason and Be Crazy. leave him alone too

[carmarriage]

red vs blue restoration blew such huge chunks im actually mad. like completely enraged. and i wouldnt have it any other way. rest in peace you son of a bitch

[thesolferino]

Favor

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: angst, fluff

⤷ word count: 8.4k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: dream asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a day. things only seem to go downhill from there.

It started as a favor.

On a quiet night in your apartment when you stared at your phone for way longer than your eyes could physically take and rolled around on the bed, talking to one of your best internet friends, Dream, he asked you for a favor. His voice was muffled through the mic on his phone, the one connected to his computer way cleaner, but neither of you could bother getting off FaceTime and call on Discord instead - yet you still heard him loud and clear, because you burst out laughing right after.

“What the hell did you just say?” you laughed, turning on your stomach and opening the call, now entirely focused on the timer that counted every second you spent talking to him instead of your Twitter timeline.

“It’s embarrassing, don’t make me repeat it!” And for that sole reason, you wanted him to repeat it, loud and clear.

“Is this why you were so insistent on me coming down to Florida? So I could pretend to be your girlfriend at your cousin’s wedding so your family doesn’t think you’re a loser?” you laughed, finding the situation entirely absurd as he sputtered, words mashing together, trying to defend himself.

“No! No, I wanted you to come here because we’re friends and I-I wanna meet you, this is just a… benefit, of sorts.” he replied, and you couldn’t help but laugh even harder at his poor attempt of trying to save face.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” you chuckle. “What’s in it for me?”

“Whatever you want.” he responded, much too quick. Your eyebrows raised.

“Whatever I want?” you parroted.

“Yes.” he confirmed. “I’ll buy you something, if you want; I’ll even pay you-”

“Pay me?! I’m not a whore, Dream!” 

“That is not AT ALL what I was saying!” he cut in, yelling as you burst into a new fit of laughter. “It’s just… I sort of already told them I have a girlfriend and I was just hoping you’d say yes ‘cause it’s gonna be very awkward if I show up without the girlfriend in question.” 

You put your head in your hands and he sort of dryly laughed at himself when he heard your palm hit your forehead. “What is wrong with you, man?” 

“Listen, it’s not gonna be so bad! Just stay by my side for a bit, look pretty, we’ll get some drinks, and then dip. That’s it, I promise.” he reasoned.

“And here I thought we were gonna make out in front of everyone. What’s a fake relationship if we don’t make a show out of it?” you sarcastically snickered, and could practically see his eyeroll from miles away.

“If that’s what you want, then we’ll do it, by all means.” he replied and you laughed, shaking your head in mild disbelief.

“Alright, well, if you already told them, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” you huffed, pretending to be way more bummed out about it than you really were. “I’ll do it.” 

“Thank you so much, oh my God.” he replied and you chuckled at the sheer relief in his voice.

A few seconds of silence pass. “What’s the catch?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“How do you want me to publicly embarrass myself in exchange for this favor?”

“Personally, I think that forcing you to tweet that tweet about pissing yourself in bed again and also tweeting that everyone should subscribe to me isn’t “publicly embarrassing” at all.” 

“Maybe I should’ve picked a different fake girlfriend.”

“Sucks to suck, pissbaby.”

The weeks leading up to your meetup felt like years, with every treacherous minute of you two talking over muffled mics and shitty webcams feeling longer than it should, your empty apartment feeling emptier and emptier by the day. Was it even possible to miss a person you hadn’t even met yet? 

It turns out that it very much was, because as soon as the painfully long weeks were up and you were finally metres away from him, you jumped in his arms like a woman finally seeing her soldier husband after the war, standing on your tiptoes while he bent down the best he could to hug you back. His chest rumbled with a warm laugh when you turned your head ever so slightly towards his ear.

“Hello, boyfriend.” And just like that, the warm turned into a groan of faux annoyance while you burst into laughter and he pulled away, scanning your face with an equally annoyed look.

“I should’ve never asked you for that. You’re never letting it go, are you?” Yeah, you were kind of annoying with the amount of corny boyfriend jokes you threw his way - you had to give him that. But then again, he crafted his own fate and now he must accept the consequences.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise your majesty wasn’t appreciating the work I’m doing! I just won’t show up at that wedding, how about that?” you bit back, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re such an idiot.” he laughed. “Give me those bags.”

A blissful week had passed, and he hadn’t pissed you off in real life nearly as much as you thought he would. It took a bit of getting used to to his family calling him Clay instead of his beloved internet username, and you did get a couple of suggestive looks from his mother the first few times she visited - you had a couple of “eye conversations” in which she never exactly asked if you were his girlfriend, and you never exactly denied it, but you knew both of you felt the weight of the unspoken words yet you had to keep everything secret and ambiguous. Or at least you thought you did, before he revealed to you that he told his mom the two of you were dating already. Seems like the glances were knowing and not questioning. Maybe you weren’t as good at eye conversation as previously thought.

Living with him was fine, mostly because he had godly air conditioning and a house that was probably way too big for him, and also a very cute cat that followed you everywhere and made living with a man for a full two weeks way more bearable. Finding out that he can’t cook was one of the most bizarre revelations about him that you’d had in the years of your friendship, and you demanded he watched as you made chicken wraps. You complained about how he was 21 and couldn’t cook for himself, he complained about how it’s 2021 and he can just order from Chipotle or something, dude.

A week of goofing around and trying to hide the fact the two of you temporarily lived together from the internet had passed quicker than it should’ve, and for the first time in seven days, Netflix was turned off and the two of you were dressing up for the wedding, ready to set off with his parents and younger sister. He spent ages trying to convince you to match with him, which was quite literally impossible because he wore a black suit and you brought a red dress, which resulted in the two of you roaming around a local mall at 10 am, half asleep, looking for a reasonably formal black dress, because of course Dream always got his way.

An hour of arguing and your fashion tastes clashing later, you picked an off shoulder black dress with a high slit, along with a pair of pumps, both of which you forced him to pay for, and went back home, ready to glam both of you up as much as humanly possible because you were not ready to let him show up in some horrendous pair of shoes and claim to be your boyfriend. 

“Is this okay?” you questioned, turning from the mirror to face him and let him be the judge of your shimmery black and white eyelids, spending way too much time on a makeup look for a wedding of someone whose name you didn’t even know. He blinked at you as his judging gaze washed over you like a wave, scanning you up and down while you nervously cocked your head, leg tapping in faux impatient annoyance to cover up the fact that you felt like prey under his eyes. 

“It’s… yeah, it is. You look good.” Dream confirmed, nodding his head at you in a movement that was way too quick and snappy and you turn back to the mirror with a huff, watching him stare right back at you. 

“Too much, right? I should try something else.” You say, grabbing your makeup remover wipes, but he cuts in before you can even wipe a single smudge.

“No, no, it looks good, I promise. Really good. Don’t touch it.” Something way too sincere in his voice makes the air tense, more tense than usual, but you drop it, deciding to just take the compliment with a tight lipped smile.

“Okay. You ready?” you ask, and he nods, nervously straightening out his suit before looking back at you with an anxious grin.

“Yeah, I think so. Do I look fine?” 

He did. He looked more than fine. You’d never seen him actually dress up for something and put proper care into his looks - he was practically forced into doing it by you this time as well - so seeing him in an actual black suit, all formal and expensive looking, messy dirty blond hair properly combed for the first time in ages, made you gulp and look away. You sort of never understood the argument that women and men can’t be friends because you were never attracted to one of your male friends, ever. Dream was born to be an exception to every rule, it seemed. 

Realising that you abruptly looked away, you attempted to awkwardly clear your throat and smile at him.

“Yeah, you do. Let’s go.”

During the ride there, his mother seemed to finally explode and the words that have clearly wanted to pour out of her mouth for ages finally came out. You supposed it was better for the poor woman, and did your best to suppress a laugh when Dream dramatically sighed and leaned against the window when she nosily spoke up. 

“So… since when have you and Clay been together? He’s told us absolutely nothing!” She spoke up from the passenger seat, shifting to look at you, excited smile plastered on her face and you politely smiled back, mentally noting that you’d have to bully the shit out of him for acting like his mom is embarrassing him in front of his 8th grade crush.

“Ah, we’ve been friends for a long while, but we only started dating a month or so ago, because it’s hard doing long distance and all that.” you said, hoping it would sound believable enough because the two of you rehearsed this a few days ago, writing out a whole backstory from how you started dating to what exact words he used when he asked you out. There were a couple of arguments here and there, such as the fact you refused to say you confessed you’ve been in love with him for years and he refused to say he admitted he’s been your “bottom bitch” for 3 years but in the end, you somehow managed to agree on a cohesive timeline of events.

“Oh, does that mean you’re going to move here?” she questioned, and that one didn’t surprise you either, Dream having prepared a full list of answers to questions that people might ask in your notes app. He was a perfectionist to the point it got on your nerves, but that had its own perks.

“No, but I’ll definitely visit more often, and if it goes well, I might as well move here.” you smiled back at her and she nodded, going back to staring through the windshield. You and Dream exchange a relieved glance that you hope his younger sister doesn’t notice.

“Let me tell you, I was waiting for you two to get together! He always talked about you, I was getting tired of him, you know that?” she giggled and you widened your eyes at Dream who, snapping out of somewhat of a daze, immediately jumped to protest, light blush adorning his pale cheeks. 

“No, I didn’t! I did not, mom, don’t lie to her.” he argued while all she did was laugh.

“Oh come on, it’s not embarrassing now that you’re together!” she kept going, and his younger sister joined in, to make it even worse.

“Yeah, you do talk about her a lot, not gonna lie.” she spoke up and his cold glare directed her way told you everything you needed to know, hanging on by a thread not to burst out laughing. He refused to even look your way, turning back to the window as his cheeks started heating up. You couldn’t help but let out at least a bit of a giggle, placing your hand on his arm in fake comfort.

“It’s okay, you can admit it now.” your tone borderlined on mocking and he knew you’d make fun of him for days to come so he stayed silent while the rest of the car burst into laughter.

The wedding was truly beautifully set up, set in a hotel wedding venue, walls painted in pure innocent white with hints of gold here and there, and you nudged Dream as the two of you observed in awe, asking what sort of money the groom had to be able to afford this sort of expensive venue. Nudging him proved to be way easier now, because you linked arms - you originally made fun of him for suggesting to walk like that instead of holding hands like normal people, telling him you’d look like you were at your high school prom, but he persisted, and you didn’t end up looking as goofy as you thought. 

“He’s a doctor or something, pretty sure.” he replied, quick feet trudging down the long hallways, your own struggling to keep up with him, especially in your heels. He seemed to be in a rush to sit and get it over with as soon as possible so he could avoid any nosy family members, but bad luck followed him everywhere, it seems, because as soon as you two entered the place where the bride and groom would unite, at least three different pairs of eyes locked on you, and you immediately saw a fairly elderly woman get up with open arms, staring at Dream with a grin on her face. You saw him immediately tense up, and almost laughed right then and there.

“There’s my boy! Oh, you’ve grown so much, come here!” The woman looked to be in her fifties and Dream let go of your arm to nervously laugh and fall into her hug, the two rocking from side to side as she kept going on about how it seemed that he grew taller and taller every time she saw him. 

When the two pulled away, her eyes fixed on you, judgingly scanning from head to toe and you suddenly realised why Dream tensed up the way he did - old white women sure had a way to make you anxious. Thankfully, he stepped in. 

“Aunt Bessie, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is aunt Bessie, my mom’s older sister.” he generously offered the explanation you were so obviously lacking and you grinned, as if that information helped you in any way, and stuck out your hand in an offer of a handshake. However, she seemed to have different plans, because as soon as she heard the words “my girlfriend” her face lit up as if she won the lottery and her lips stretched into a smile, opening her arms for you the same way she did for him. 

“Oh my God, you finally got a girlfriend? Come here!” she said, shaking her head at your outstretched hand and gesturing you to return the hug which you quite hesitantly did, politely laughing as she hugged you tighter than you’d deem appropriate. Dream came from a family of huggers - that much was apparent from him, you guess, but you weren’t exactly prepared for this.

Aunt Bessie seemed to be way louder and screechier than expected, because the word “girlfriend” boomed through the room and off the snowy walls, and at least five other family members of his turned around to check who the lucky fellow that finally got a girlfriend was. Another one of his aunts seemed to notice the commotion and suddenly, another older woman with shoulder length, dyed blonde hair, along with her two younger kids, was hurling at you as well. 

“I always complained to him that it was about time he got a girlfriend! He’s a fine young man, no wonder you picked him, honey.” Aunt Bessie shot you a knowing look and you closed your mouth in a tight lipped smile in a feverish attempt to keep down the laugh that threatened to escape you. 

“Oh yeah, he definitely is.” you giggled, looking up at Dream again who looked like he wanted the earth below his feet to open and swallow him whole. Before you could nudge him in the ribs and tease him for hours to come, the other aunt suddenly spoke up.

“Clay! Oh my gosh, is that you?” she exclaimed, shocked grin on her face, and you briefly wondered if Dream ever even visited his family. He nervously smiled, obviously not really sure who this woman even is, but he hugged her back anyway, clearly walking the line between ‘happy to see his family’ and ‘insanely uncomfortable’.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, your dad hasn’t visited since we moved to Toronto! Look at how tall you are, you’re taller than my husband now! You used to be so tiny, whatever happened to you?” Upon hearing the word Toronto he seemed to realise who he was talking to as his eyes softened, and you wondered if he really was so expressive or you could just read him that well.

“I grew up, I guess.” He awkwardly laughed and she laughed harder than she should’ve before turning to you.

“Oh, and who is this?” She said, gaze periodically switching between him and you, a knowing smile on her face which told you she definitely knew who you were.

“Ah, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is… my dad’s cousin, Mabel.” He introduced, large hand landing on your back, and you felt like you were experiencing déjà vu at the way her face lit up at the mention of a girlfriend. 

“Wow, it’s so nice to meet you, Y/N!” She said, energetically shaking your hand, before turning back to Dream. “You never told us you got a girlfriend! You’re finally planning on settling down, huh?” 

Your head snapped in his direction at the speed of light when she mentioned settling down, and you could see him tense up as well as he nervously laughed.

“Yeah, we haven’t visited in a while, so nobody from the family really knew. And, uh… we haven’t really thought of that yet, we’re taking it slow and everything.” He said and you were almost in awe at how good he was at bullshitting. The woman did nothing but laugh.

“Ah, don’t lie to me, I see the way you two look at each other! It’s your wedding we’ll be attending next!” She winked, and just as Dream got ready to fake laugh once again, her family called her over and she excused herself, walking off.

The two of you hurried to your seats as well, sitting down next to his younger sister. 

“Your family is insane, man, holy shit.” You laughed in disbelief, staring at him as he shook his head, clearly as distressed as you were.

“Literally nobody in this family gives a single fuck if I’m single or not except the old aunties. And I seem to have a shit ton of those.” He muttered under his breath. “The way you look at each other - I literally didn’t even look at you properly that whole time!” 

You cackled at that one, hitting his arm. “She’s right, Clay. You’re one fine young man, eh?” You nudged him as he groaned in embarrassment, only turning your way to glare at you. 

You didn’t get to tease him for much longer, though, because the organ started playing and the bridesmaids and groomsmen lined up, the groom standing at his designated place. The bride walked in, arms locked with her father, thin white veil covering her face as she walked down the aisle, looking angelic in her puffy wedding gown. Silky brown hair fell down her shoulders, curled towards the ends, and you could see the hint of blood red lipstick beneath the veil. She looked beautiful - the groom seemed to think so as well, because you could see him tapping the corner of his eye lightly, wiping any stray tears.

She finally made it to the end and stepped to face her soon-to-be husband as her father moved away, sitting back in his chair. The wedding officiant stepped up, and held a speech much longer than it should be, which just led you to zone out. 

One day you’d be beneath that veil, wouldn’t you? One day, you’ll face your fiancé the same way she is, and you’ll let your hearts link with a string that nobody but the two of you could snap. Who would that be, though? Who could you even trust with your heart in their hands? And you’re not aware of how and why and when, but your eyes shot up at Dream, whose eyes also glinted in that way where you knew he wasn’t paying attention, and maybe he was thinking about the same thing as you. Maybe one day, you’ll be attending his wedding, forcing one of your friends to play a fake boyfriend as he wipes his tears, waiting for his bride to get to him. 

It was disheartening, the thought of being a bystander while he locks lips with somebody else. You supposed you just liked being the center of attention, so you let yourself pretend you were his bride in your daydreams. Separating daydreams from rational thoughts was mandatory, because you weren’t sure how you’d explain to yourself that you can’t stand seeing Dream marry someone else. 

Dream, the infamous hopeless romantic, still seemed out of it, maybe even a little emotional, despite not being that close with either of the two. He was probably thinking about his own wedding as well, thinking about his future, the face he’d see when he pulled back the veil.

Just then, his eyes darted to yours, and you realised you were caught staring, snapping your head back to the couple that started reading their vows by now. You started going red from the neck up, cheeks on fire as you could feel his gaze burning into you. He turned back after a few seconds, though, probably assuming you stared at him because you were bored, and neither of you spoke, even though you kind of wish you did. What even is there to say, though? 

By the time you snapped back, the “I do”s were already being said, and her veil was getting lifted, showing her beauty to everyone present, and as they kissed the whole room bursted into cheers and applause in support of the newlyweds. The two exit, teary eyed, their parents follow close behind, and that’s when Dream’s family rushes both of you to your feet, following the two into the reception hall where the actual party would take place. 

From then on, the wedding is the same as any other. The two have their first dance, they give a welcoming speech, and Dream lets you stuff your face with cake and repeatedly refills your wine glass as repayment for dragging you into this whole thing. At some point, he stretches his hand out to you and asks for a dance like a rom-com main character, and you’re not sure exactly why he did that because he’s mostly terrible at dancing, but you had fun letting him twirl you until you got dizzy anyway.

You also realised just how much he did actually need a fake girlfriend, because it seemed like every twenty minutes some sort of relative of his would walk up to the two of you and congratulate him on “finally getting a girlfriend”. You ended up bullying him for that as well, wondering just how long he’s been single for if they’re all this surprised that he’s got a girlfriend, to which he just downed the glass of water he’d been sipping for half an hour and asked you about the weather.

His family took a few pictures with the new couple - you even got to speak to the bride at some point, congratulating her and wishing the two of them well, but in the span of a few hours, the wedding was over and the newlyweds made a great exit, signifying the end of the party. The two of you were driven home by his parents, and you waved them goodbye as you stumbled to the front door, your heels insanely uncomfortable and the red wine in your stomach weighing down on you; you just wanted to get out of this dress and into a pair of pajamas and pass out on his couch in the living room. 

That’s sort of exactly what you did - you half-assed taking your makeup off, wiping down your face a couple of times, deciding that was enough before changing into some worn pajamas and plopping down on the couch next to Dream who already claimed his place and sunk into the cushion while a random movie played on the TV. The two of you basked in the comfortable silence that surrounded you, the exhausted, tired type. You both appreciated the quiet and fell asleep sitting next to each other, wedding already forgotten.

That night, he went from Dream to Clay.

The departure was bittersweet. You left two days after that, your hug at the airport tight, warm, filled with a sugary sweet feeling you couldn’t quite place and sour acid that ate away at you because you didn’t want to leave in the slightest. His arms were warm, inviting, whispering for you to stay but you left anyway, waving him goodbye, setting off to home. 

It seemed like all your problems came and went with him, because a week later, at 3 in the morning while you were up editing a video, you got an all caps message on your Discord from Sapnap.

“YOU’RE DATING DREAM?”

You blinked at your computer screen, white letters blinding you in the dark, brain trying to keep up with why he even thought that. Within 10 seconds, another message, this time from Dream.

“so i told george and sapnap that we’re dating”

“don’t kill me pls” 

Yeah, you weren’t going to kill him, per se, but he definitely made your life a lot harder than it should be. You opened Discord, Premiere Pro and the unedited video abandoned, typing back to Clay quickly.

“WHY”

He responded immediately, as one panicked man does.

“they’ve been making fun of me for being single for ages now :(“

“we already did this fake dating thing before and it went perfectly fine”

“just play along for a month or so”

“pls”

You audibly sighed. And as if he could hear you, he started typing again.

“i’ll promote you on my channel more”

“just pls do it”

“you love me, right” 

Another sigh fell from your lips before you could stop it. Of course you did, because if you didn’t, there’s no way you would be playing into this. You typed back.

“fine”

He messaged back immediately.

“THANK YOU”

“LOVE YOU <333”

With a shake of your head, you mumbled “idiot” with the ghost of a smile flashing on your face, switching back to your video, opting to ignore Sapnap for a little bit. He could wait. 

Fake dating seemed pretty damn easy during the first week - you thought you were killing it by sending corny tweets and staged selfies so he could screenshot them and send them to the groupchat, giggling on call about how oblivious they are and how you’re fooling them so good, both of you opting to ignore the parts where they claimed they knew the two of you were gonna get together eventually. It was fun, lighthearted, and an excuse to flirt with someone you had nothing official with.

As much as all your problems came and went with Clay, though, they came and went with his friends as well, especially that hopeless man Clay called his best friend. 

Because yeah, of course Sapnap was the one to accidentally spill to the public that the two of you were “dating”.

George was streaming at what was apparently a normal time in the UK, not so much for Florida, and Clay was sleeping while you were watching his stream while making some food for yourself. It was going fine, a bit of a chill stream, and you leaned against the fridge as your oven preheated, tired eyes following his Minecraft skin. 

“Sophie, thank you for the dono! ‘Hey George, I love your videos, just wanted to ask if you were speedrunning with Dream today?’” he read out, and you could faintly hear Sapnap join the stream through your headphones. 

“No I’m not, Dream’s… I don’t know what Dream’s doing right now, actually. He’s not responding to me, though. Probably talking to his girlfriend still.” he continued, exaggerating the last part mockingly, still playing into the whiny role of being upset that Clay was ditching the two of them for you. That majorly woke you up, though, as you stood straight on your feet immediately, because oh no, nobody was supposed to know.

You exited out of the Twitch app quickly, letting the stream play in the background as you tried to fish for Sapnap’s profile on Discord and text him as quick as possible, trying to warn him to not let anybody know, but before you could do it, you heard his laughter clear in the stream.

“Yeah, Y/N, his sweetie poo.” Sapnap said, causing George to laugh even louder, before moving onto the next topic, and your heartbeat picked up an insane amount, nails loud and probably damaging your phone screen as you typed as quickly as humanly possible to yell at him because this was not planned, at all.

You heard him go quiet after you shot him a couple of messages over Discord (“SAPNAP” “ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID” “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU” “NOBODY KNOWS YET” “IM GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU”), type something to George who then fell quiet as well for a few seconds, pure horror on his face, and then went back to streaming as if nothing happened while Sapnap profusely apologised to you on his and George’s behalf.

No apology could fix what had already been done, though, and you were left alone with the warzone that was Twitter who had already speculated the two of you were dating long before while Clay peacefully slept somewhere in his house at 4 am in Florida. You bombarded him with messages and waited until he woke up ‘cause what were you even supposed to do?! 

You chose to spend your time finishing the pizza you were originally supposed to make and almost burnt your whole apartment down because you forgot the oven was on for a whole hour while yelling at Clay’s idiotic best friends. You yelled at Sapnap, who kept apologising to you, you yelled at George, who yelled back that it’s not that big of a deal because people were bound to find out anyways, and you yelled at Clay, because he was the guilty one somehow for not being awake during your breakdown. 

He did eventually wake up though, to the shitshow that were his notifications with at least thirty messages from each of you, messages from his other YouTube friends who were fairly surprised, and his entire fanbase going ham on Twitter. He was surprisingly calm about it - calmer than you were, anyways, and sheepishly said over the phone that the fake dating thing may have to go on for a little longer since you couldn’t just date for a month and then break up, and you were sort of okay with that.

And of course, the business side of him awoke at that moment, and he giddily told you about the amount of views the two of you could pull if you did the same shit you do with George and Sapnap anyway, but on livestream. 

You rolled your eyes.

And then agreed anyway. 

And so, the charade began.

His Twitter statement was up shortly, telling the people that you’d been dating for a couple of weeks and weren’t planning to tell anybody yet until a certain someone spilled their guts live, and the fact Dream was dating someone, let alone another popular streamer, took the internet by storm. You expected hate, and you got quite a bit of that, but the people that had shipped the two of you before were certainly more than delighted and a lot of Clay’s fans were supportive. 

Now, both of you had excuses to do chill streams together and just hang out and you took the opportunity and ran with it. 

You’d sit and play Geoguessr or just try and speedrun Minecraft a bunch of times for hours on end, doing stupid bits and things you’d be doing offline anyways, with a little more flirting than usual, because that’s what made it interesting.

“Oh this is France, for sure.” you claimed one night, two or three weeks after the secret was officially out, chewing on the fries you bought for this specific occasion, streaming on his alt to a few thousand people. 

“You think so? It could be Belgium, too.” he responded, humming in thought as he looked around.

“I know so.” you responded.

“How?” 

“I just do. Gamer intuition, babe.” you said, and he wheezed at your response, repeating the words gamer intuition under his breath.

“No, seriously. It is France, I know it is, I’ve seen so many pictures of that place I know it like the back of my hand now. That’s Lyon, or something.” you continued, plopping another french fry into your mouth.

“You have? Why do you know so much about France, that’s so random.” he responded, opening the map and pointing to France, although he keeps looking around, unsure of his decision.

“I dunno, I like it there. I wish I could move there.” you replied.

“Why, though?” 

“It’s pretty and heavily romanticised! Just like me!” you joked and he laughed, before letting you continue. “I dunno, it’s the city of love. Be a little romantic.” 

“The… the city of love is whatever city the two of us are in.” he said, and it took a few seconds for you to process the joke before letting out a fake disappointed sigh.

“I can’t believe I’m dating someone as corny as you.” 

At that, he bursts into wheezes, and you follow along, enjoying the sound of his laughter coursing through your headphones more than you used to a few weeks back. It feels nice, feels right, acting like this. You like calling him your boyfriend more than you think you should. 

A few weeks go by, and it feels all too natural. It feels too natural, talking to him first thing in the morning when you’ve barely even had your coffee, calling him pet names, throwing sweet words at each other publicly like they mean nothing. It feels all too natural, and nice, and all too right, and you don’t even notice when the two of you cross the line between public and private, and you’re stuck making stupid jokes about making out when you first see each other when there’s nobody to witness them except the walls of your rooms, but you don’t like thinking about that, because you know it’ll bring nothing but confusion. The current this that the two of you have is perfect to you, perfectly lighthearted and funny and fun, and you intend on keeping it that way, refusing to think about it in any way past jokes.

That is, until you can’t anymore.

It’s late, again, and you’re staring at his contact name on your phone screen, lazily lying on the bed. It reminds you of a night from roughly 3 months ago, when your whole friendship seemed to change in the few seconds it took you to process what he’d asked of you, and it feels weird, but nice.

“My mom really likes you, you know?” Clay breaks the quiet that you’ve learned to appreciate in his presence, and you exhale through your nose, the noise just short of a chuckle.

“Yeah?” You laugh, and he does as well.

“Yeah.” He reaffirms. “She thinks you’re a great girlfriend. Apparently I seem brighter ever since we got together.”

You laugh again. “I am a great girlfriend, to be fair. She’s totally right.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t know that. If you’re as good of a girlfriend as you pretend to be, though, then you’re amazing.” He says, and words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them. 

“Yeah? You wanna find out?” The flirty nature is nothing strange to the two of you, but this time it feels kinda different, it feels like you’re stepping into dangerous territory that there’s no coming back from. You feel like you’ve ruined everything, for some reason.

He laughs, like normal, though. He laughs like nothing happened at all, and you’re so, so grateful for that.

“Sure, let’s do it. You’re about to unpack the full Clay boyfriend experience.” He snickers and you laugh as well. 

“That means I just unlock the dick as well as the personality.” you respond, quick as always, and the wheeze that escapes him is so loud that it makes you laugh too.

“...Unlock the dick…” he repeats through another wheeze and you nod, laughing.

“Yeah! I mean I’m literally experiencing the boyfriend experience without actually having a boyfriend, it’s fuckin’ great.” you say and he hums.

“You could have one, though.” 

The implications are crazy, his words are crazy, he’s crazy and everything that he could mean and couldn’t mean by that is driving you crazy too, brain faltering and heart seeming way too big for your chest to contain it. It’s silent.

“I could, I guess.” 

You choose to say, and he switches the topic naturally, like he never said anything.

Things are never the same again.

It’s not in a bad way. Sure, it is kind of a bad way for the feelings you’re trying to push down inside you, a bad way for hot nights when the unbearable heat forces you to stay up even when you don’t want to and you have no choice but to think about why you feel the way you feel as you melt into the burning sheets below you, a bad way for when he jokes about finding somebody else and you feel your stomach churning. A bad way for realising that this fake dating thing is really getting to you, but not a bad way in general.

Maybe it’s in a good way. Maybe the underlying implications whenever he makes jokes about making the relationship real are good, maybe the way he calls you in the middle of the night when he’s anxious and freaking out and defends himself by saying: “You’re my girlfriend, you’re always there for me, I just figured I could call you.” and you end up wondering if it’s possible to say jokes in such a vulnerable state or if he’s serious is good, maybe the way it’s been a few months and he won’t tell his own best friends that it was a joke the whole time is good, maybe the way you confronted him about it and he said he likes having you as his girlfriend is good. 

Maybe the way the two of you are always walking the line between joking and being serious, between being friends and something more, between lies and pranks and emotional investment and fear of committing, and the way you’re always trying to push the other off, is good. 

The fans love it. The fanart is incredible (serves especially well for those hot nights when you can’t fall asleep and you scroll, watching yourself fall in love with Clay in every universe, tales told by people who observe your story and find it worthy enough to retell in their own words, to take the love you pretend to have and turn it into something real), people love to gush over the compliments he sprinkles in at random times during conversation and the general flirty dynamic is loved by many, pulling in more views and attraction for you. 

And you suppose that’s good too, but at some point, the good warps into bad, bad warps into terrible, and you wonder if this is all even worth the sleepless nights, wondering if he feels the same way.

Those thoughts haunt you more and more often every day. When you wake up, and text him first thing in the morning, your brain acknowledges that the camera is off - nobody’s around, people aren’t listening, so why are you still playing the role of a girlfriend and starting up a conversation with him when you haven’t even brushed your teeth properly? When you’re editing in the middle of the day and he calls to keep you company, making more stupid boyfriend jokes, your stomach flips in a weird way that makes you hate him, hate the way he can joke about these things so freely, like it doesn’t hurt him. Like it doesn’t affect him like it affects you. 

But, as much as you wish you could hate him, you couldn’t bring yourself to, and that was the worst part. Because, in reality, whenever he laughed you’d smile without realising you did, whenever anything exciting happened to you he was the first one you went to, whenever you wanted to laugh or cry or sit in silence for hours or complain you always went to him, the one person who you know would listen. In reality, whenever he made a joke about giving up on the fake dating and making it real, you wished so bad that he was serious this time, that this was what it took and he’d crack and all of your suffering would end.

It eventually happens.

It’s a pretty chilly morning, birds chirp outside and the sun that slowly rises is covering the kitchen floor in a golden hue as you pour milk into your cereal with one hand and hold your phone in the other, letting Clay ramble about whatever it was this time, when he brought it up.

“So, when do you wanna come down to Florida again?” he asks casually, and you almost drop the gallon of milk in your hand. 

“What?” 

“I said, when are you coming down to Florida again? Last time you came was pretty fun.” he says, and an empty silence follows. There’s an unsaid “I miss you” that you don’t hear, and he’s too afraid of saying it. 

“Florida wasn’t exactly on my schedule this month, man.” you say, placing your phone on the counter for a second. Clay sure knew how to surprise a person.

“Well put it down, then.” he jokes, and you hum.

“What, you got another wedding coming up?” you giggle and he groans - you never really stopped making fun of him for that wedding.

“No, I don’t. Can’t a man just miss seeing his beloved girlfriend?” It’s unbelievable how quickly dread can wash over you as soon as he makes one of those jokes. You were convinced the mix of anxiety and butterflies that appears in your stomach was gonna kill you sometime soon.

“He can, he’s just being weirdly insistent.” you argue nonetheless. “But sure, I’ll consider it.”

You do more than consider it - in a few weeks, you’re back at the airport, and falling into his arms has never given you such an adrenaline rush in your whole life. Something about having him wrapped around you, close to you, the warmth of his body radiating into yours sent you spiraling, head clouded with nothing but love and the fact that you wish you could stay there forever. You wished you could press pause and cherish the moment, let yourself bask in that feeling of pure love, pure adoration that you helplessly drowned in. But you couldn’t, and you left his arms feeling oddly empty. 

Hiding the fact that you were unapologetically head over heels for him proved to be a hundred times more difficult when you were right there, next to him, talking to him, when you could just kiss him any second, feel his lips on yours and nobody would stop you - the opportunity was right there, looming over you, the devil on your shoulder taunting you, telling you to do it. 

You got to wake up in the same house as him, watch his hair stick out in different directions and his raspy morning voice as he complained about the smell of your coffee, watch his eyes glint whenever he talked about something he liked and observe as he carried around Patches like a little baby. You got to experience every bit of domestic without the consequences of committing, and you wondered just how far this would go. For how much longer would the two of you blatantly ignore the fact that you were a couple that slapped the title “fake” on it because you were cowards who refused to admit what this truly was. 

Not for long, apparently, because you grew tired, and decided to put an end to everything on one random Thursday night - and if he hated you forever for it, then so be it. 

You were sitting on his couch, watching a random movie together, drowning in one of his Dream hoodies while you chewed the popcorn he made. It was dark outside, just past midnight, and you could see the branches of a tree swaying calmly through one of the nearby windows - the silence while he scrolled through his phone lazily was comforting too, everything was lazy and serene and it would’ve been perfect if it wasn’t for the constant anxiety that gripped you by the throat whenever you were in his close proximity, the nervousness that killed you, the upset feeling of wanting to cuddle up with him but knowing you can’t because you guys are just friends, and nothing more.

The couple on the screen kiss while a violin plays in the background - how fitting. Maybe that’s what pushes you to the edge, or maybe you were just that sick and tired.

You were exhausted, beyond exhausted. Your eyes were tired, the anxiety was morphing into annoyance and anger and you were ready to give up on it all. If this ended the friendship, at least you two had a good run. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know, you still owe me a favor in return for pretending to be your girlfriend.” you say, and you sound gone, zoned out, more than you wish you were. You hear his phone turn off with a click.

“Yeah? What do you want?” Clay asks, and you blankly stare at the TV for a few seconds before turning to face him, eyes burning. 

“Kiss me.” 

It’s silent. The characters on screen are arguing. You hear the wind through one of his open windows.

“What?” he asks, voice cracking, and his expression falls. You’ve fucked it. Oh well.

“I want you to kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like someone’s watching and you wanna make it believable.” you say, eyes boring into his, your words having nowhere near as much of an effect on yourself as they do on him. Your eyes sting like they’re being lit on fire, and your throat is sort of closing up, but it’s fine. “Let me have this before I go, because once I leave, I don’t wanna do this anymore, Clay. I can’t pretend like I don’t want you to introduce me as your girlfriend and fully mean it. I can’t lie to your face anymore.” 

Silence. Deafening silence, once again.

“I love you.” he blurts out, and you don’t even register it at first. “I don’t want this shit to be fake either. God, I really don’t. It hasn’t been fake for a while now, at least not on my part. I’m sorry, it’s just- it was easier to keep this bit going than it was to actually admit that I’m… into you.”

And once again, the room falls into silence, much like it always does whenever the two of you share moments like these.

And then, you burst into laughter.

“So… so you mean to tell me, that both of us have liked each other this whooooole fucking time, and just refused to admit it and ‘pretended to date’ instead?” you burst into giggles, and he looks sort of hesitant to laugh, but he does anyway.

“I mean… yeah? I was waiting for you to call me out for doing all that when nobody was watching! Why did you never call me out?! Don’t blame me, I made it so damn obvious that I wanted you!” he protests, and you almost can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“Excuse me? You should’ve just fucking told me instead of making a million and one jokes about how I’m your girlfriend! We’re not in middle school, Clay!” you argue.

“Yeah, but I thought you’d catch on and talk to me about it at some point! You never called me out for anything!”

“So what, I’m supposed to just read your mind now? You’re fucking unbelievable.” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and turning away in annoyance. As soon as a warm hand lands on your shoulder, though, the annoyance melts like wax under fire, leaving nothing behind.

“I still haven’t returned that favor, you know?” he whispers in your ear, breath fanning your neck, closer than he should be. The hairs on your neck stand up as you turn back to Clay, who wore a mischievous grin and a glint in his eyes that suggested no good. 

You suppose bad can be good, sometimes. 

As his lips press onto yours, that theory is proven true, because he sends a flicker of fire burning down your spine, spreading into your limbs, making your fingertips electric as you pulled him in closer, hand snaking up to grip at his hair - the everlasting grin against your own proves, once again, to be no good as his hands slip under your hoodie and grip your sides, but you think you enjoy this sort of bad. 

They sneak up further, and you hear him chuckle into the kiss as your insides melt at his touch. The two of you silently agree that maybe he should ask for favors more often.

[canadadrye]

I saw you were asking for requests, so could you do an Adam Davenport fic where the male or gn(but preferably male) reader gets in an argument with Adam for some dumb reason, and Adam gets all pouty, so reader gives him cuddles and kisses as an apology?

MY BIG IDIOT

adam davenport x GN!reader

request: yep!

note: okay i might have gotten just a bit carried away with writing this one- but it was just so fun!!

warnings: none really except some small fighting over something minimal, and my language ofc

word count: 0.9k

you had finally gotten a moment alone with adam. no chase, no bree, no leo, no one. you decided to spent this time doing the only sensible thing you could think of; watching a bunch of movies and eating piza. you put adam in charge of picking out movies while you called in a pizza for the two of you. you hadn't eaten anything yet because you got incredibly carried away with your work and stuff, so you really needed this. you headed back into the living room to see which movies adam had picked out for you to watch; and you settled on 'captain marvel' as the first one.

flash forward to the end of the first movie, you reach your hand into the pizza box to find nothing. you immediately look up towards adam, and what you see was not what you were wanting to. him with the last slice already 3/4 gone, an absolutely clueless expression drawn on his face. "what? is there something on my face?" he asked you, still not clicking in his mind that you weren't exactly happy with him. "adam, i wanted the last piece! i'm starving and i haven't ate all day!" you guess it came out a bit more aggressive than you intended, because the next thing that came out of his mouth was unexpected. "well gee, i'm sorry i upset you! you know you could at least try telling me these things before you get all angry with me!" you were honestly thrown back by his response, your boyfriend was usually a huge teddybear to everyone other than chase, but especially you. he'd never acted this way around you before and it was really pissing you off. in the heat of the moment, it didn't even cross your mind that it could possibly be your fault for acting hostile towards him in the first place. you didn't even bother responding to him, you just stormed off to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it once in.

about 30 minutes or so had gone by and you were finally ready to confront him. you knew the fight was stupid and you shouldn't have gotten angry at him for something so small in the first place, but at the time it felt so big. you exited the bathroom and headed back to the living room, where you found a pouting adam sitting on the couch. you tried to approach him but when you entered his line of sight he just turned over to the opposite side. so when that didn't work, you just decided to sit down next to him. when you did, he stood up and made his way over to the kitchen and sat down at the bar. words couldn't make their way to your mouth, even if you wanted them to. you had no idea what to say, you hadn't ever gotten into an argument with him like this. you quickly made your way back to the bathroom, washing your face in hopes that some brilliant idea would pop into your brain. alas, that did nothing and you decided you'd just have to apologize the good old fashion way.

"look-" you still kept a bit of distance from him in case he was still upset. "-i'm sorry for the way i acted, okay?" you rubbed the back of your neck, hoping he would understand where you're coming from. "mhm, keep going" he had a sly smirk on his face, like he was getting some form of enjoyment from his. "and i was a complete jerkface-" he rolled his eyes "uh-huh, what else?" his smirk turned into a full smile at this point and it became exceptionally clear to you, he totally was getting enjoyment from this. "-and i'm sorry about being a big idiot, mkay?" he just laughed and shook his head. "well-" he made sure to extend the end of his words extra long, "-i can think of a few ways you could make it up to me" you exhaled out of your nose, shaking your head. "c'mere you dumbass" you knew exactly what he meant when he was talking about 'making it up to him'. "yay!" he exclaimed and pumped his fist up in the air victoriously. you pulled him over to the couch, allowing him to snuggle into you. you placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head, feeling yourself grow a bit drowsy. "you might be a big idiot-" he said sleepily "-but at least you're my big idiot" all you did was hum in return, a light smile on your face before you dozed off.

"you think we should wake them up?" leo asked to the others crowded around the couch. "no! let them sleep, guys" bree whined as she snapped a quick photo on her phone for later blackmail, but admittedly she was really enjoying looking at the passed out couple in front of her. "oh i so want to wake them up!" chase on the other hand, was having a very hard time not ruining the perfect moment. he really wanted to get payback on his brother for the most recent prank that was pulled on him. adam wouldn't admit it, but chase just knew it was him who did it. "he really pulled a good one didn't he?" mrs. davenport said as she passed into the kitchen to get something started for dinner. let's just say you guys woke up to an audience admiring the tooth-rottingly sweet moment in front of them.

[buckyownsmylife]

woman’s world - chris evans smut

The one where Chris pisses you off during a panel, but then finds a way to apologize

Warnings: age gap, famous!reader, oblivious Chris, smut, unprotected sex

Chris’ P.O.V.

The panel had gone well, or as well as it could go when everyone was trying to push the idea of Y/N and I together. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to pursue something with her - quite the opposite in fact. I was completely infatuated with the young actress, but the problem was just that: she was young. Too young for me, probably. So it was becoming harder and harder to deal with everyone commenting on how great we would be together when it was already all I could think about, and there was nothing I could do to make it come true without looking like an absolute predator.

Still, there was no denying that my favorite part about this particular press tour had been getting to spend time with her. She was just the perfect company, especially in a situation like this, which frankly could easily become tiresome and irritating. She just had this way of being able to read me and know what I needed, so she’d easily take over when she noticed an interviewer was getting on my nerves or overstepping some boundaries. 

She was quickly becoming my favorite person, but unfortunately, the rest of our cast had noticed as much. And so that meant that for the last day or so, I’d forced myself to pull away from her, deliberately sitting as far away as possible and not even glancing her way whenever there was a camera around. I even managed to have a quick reaction when the panel moderator joked about us being the perfect couple, and I was proud of how my cry of “She’s a kid, for God’s sake!” had made everyone laugh, even my friends who had been keen on insisting I should ask her out. 

So needless to say, I was in a good mood. Such a great mood, in fact, that I’d decided to ask Y/N to come back to my room so we could grab a beer and watch some movies. Asking around for where she had gone, someone pointed in the direction I thought I’d seen her head to, and after a couple of seconds, I managed to see her in the middle of the sea of people. Then it was just a matter of smoothly dodging everyone trying to lure me into pointless conversations and then she was already within ear reach. 

Or so I thought, at least. I tried calling her name countless times, but she didn’t look back once. In fact, she even quickened her step, and soon enough I had to physically run so I could follow her into the elevator that could take us to the floor where we were staying. 

I didn’t think too much of it, considering she probably thought I was someone else and was doing the same as I was: trying to dodge anyone who wanted to make us stay a bit longer on the crowded floor where the convention was taking place. But then we were inside the elevator and she didn’t even turn to look me in the eye. 

More importantly, when I reached out to rub my thumb on her wrist, to signal that I wanted to hold her hand, the response I got was a harsh, “Is this your way of subtly hinting that you want to hold my hand? Because it’s quite cute, but I’m not in the mood for that at all.”

The attitude caught me by surprise in such a way that I was only able to snap out of it once the elevator’s doors opened, but before I could ask what the fuck was going on, she had ran out of it, walking towards her room with determination.

Oh no, she wouldn’t. There was no way I was letting her hide in her room, angry at me, when I didn’t even know what I’d done wrong. I sprung into action, running after her and managing to hold the door just before she was able to slam it in my face.

“What’s going on?” I cried out, pushing my way inside the room as she just stared up at me with hurt eyes and a pout on her lips. “What did I do?” Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms while looking away from me, before I managed to pull her closer by her wrists when I pried her arms open again. “Talk to me, c’mon.”

She glanced at me with furrowed brows, quickly averting her eyes before looking back again with an unamused expression. “You’re really gonna act like you don’t know.” Anxiety coursed through my veins at a scary pace. It was clear that I’d hurt her, but I had no idea how!

“I really don’t know!” I cried out, begging her to answer me, so I could make this better. I couldn’t bear the thought of offending her, of possibly losing her… and her friendship. Since that was all I could get from her, I was gonna fight with everything to keep it. “Please, let me make it up to you.”

For a second, it seemed like she would relent. But when her eyes met mine again, it was clear that whatever she saw on mine reminded her of the reason that she was mad, because just when I started to smile, she caught a second wind, pulling her hands from me and turning her back. 

“I don’t know why you’re so adamant about making me feel better. I thought I was just a kid to you.” And then, suddenly, it made sense. Flashes of what had happened not even an hour earlier played in my head, this time her face being the focus of it all. Perhaps it wasn’t perceptible for everyone else that her smile faltered when I shouted that idiotic thing, but to me it was.

To me it was, and still, back then, I didn’t see it. I chose not to see it, because I was so scared to deal with the truth. Instead, I ended up hurting her. And that was literally the last thing that I wanted. 

“I-I’m sorry,” I immediately offered, raising a hand to scratch the back of my neck. “I just… I didn’t want them to start creating any narratives about us two together, you know? I mean… You know how they can get. And I can’t be… We can’t be... associated… like that.”

I knew I had screwed up even before it became clear that she wouldn’t answer. Despite how cautiously I’d tried to phrase it, it ended up sounding weird even to my own ears. And when she didn’t turn around to look me in the eye again, I didn’t know what else to do. I felt myself deflating, my heart beating desperately against my chest, terrified of losing her simply for being my stupid self.

“C’mon… You know what I mean,” I breathed out, trying to approach her and resting a hand on one of her shoulders, but she simply shook it off. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t be like that.” I made myself flinch with just how poorly I was handling that situation.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I didn’t know what to do or say. Don’t be like what? “Like a child?” I asked, my tone icy enough to layer the tension in the room with one more level of awkwardness, and I didn’t need to see Chris to know that he was a mixture of nervous and confused, at the very least.

I knew it because I was, too. I was completely thrown off by my own behaviour, as weirdly as that sounded. I didn’t know why I was so defensive, except that I did. I did know it, I just didn’t want to admit. 

“Well, this child wants to be left alone. I’ll talk to you later, Chris.” And I stormed off into the bathroom, only stopping to take a breath when I was sure the door was locked behind me. I needed to put some distance between myself and him, otherwise I was gonna lose it - even worse than I already did. 

But it was too late to keep on ignoring my feelings. I was forced to deal with the reality of them, at least with myself, since I knew - especially after today - that there was no way I would ever get to reveal to Chris that I’d fallen for him.

To him, I was just a kid, and that’s all I would forever be.

Weirdly, I didn’t feel like crying as I took off my clothes and stepped into the shower, decided to wash away all of the bad feelings that this day had brought me. I just felt… disappointed, like a kid who’s been dreaming about a Christmas present only to find out they’ve been given socks. I’d been hopelessly trying to ignore my feelings for Chris, but at least a small part of me still fed into the ridiculous idea that he could possibly reciprocate those sentiments.

Now that it was obvious it would never be the case, it was like a small part of me had died on that stage.

By the time I got out of the shower, some twenty minutes later, I decided to put on a loose shirt I had kept around from some ex and take a nap until it was time to be social again. Certainly my friends would want to hit the bars or at least grab some dinner, and it would provide me with the perfect occasion to apologize to Chris.

Yes, that was perfect. That would get me a few more hours where I could manage to fabricate some resemblance of control before I had to see him. And then it would all go back to the way it was: me, pretending I don’t have a crush, while he kept seeing me as a kid.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t even notice the massive body hidden beneath the covers in my bed until I went to uncover it so I could slide in.

“What the hell are you doing here? Get out of my bed,” I chastised, but Chris only gave me those annoyingly effective puppy eyes that had me groaning. “No. You don’t get to do this. I’m still mad at you, go to your room and we’ll talk about it later, but for now, just let me wallow in peace.”

But still, he didn’t let up. I tried to climb on the bed, but he was now smack down on the middle of it, still pouting with those perfect full lips of his. 

“Get. out. of. the. Bed.”

“Not until you tell me what I can do for you to forgive me. C’mon, baby girl, just let me make it up to you.” When I didn’t answer, making sure to avoid his eyes, he simply reached out and grabbed me by my hips, forcing me to sit on his lap. “Please?” He quietly begged, one hand cradling my face while the other maintained its grip on my hip. 

The movement had caught me by surprise, and my mouth fell open as I realized that because the shirt had ridden up, I was sat panties glued to Chris’ jeans. And if that wasn’t enough to throw me into a ridiculously horny state, the fact that I could feel just how hard he was certainly did.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Don’t be shy,” he pressed, and my eyes snapped up to meet his, finding a hazy lust that reflected mine and a very, very naugthty smirk that didn’t help my current about-to-get messy situation. “Tell me how I can make it up to you.”

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as I took a sharp inhale, thinking about what I was about to say. Could I really do this? Should we even do this? I still wasn’t completely sure about what the hell had happened, but one thing I was certain of, and that was that I really wanted him to, “Kiss me.”

For all the reservation I expected Chris to have about this, he didn’t hesitate a single second before pulling me to meet his lips, and it was everything I thought kissing him would be like. His lips were soft and as patient as he seemed to try to be, there was an undeniable edge of neediness in the way his tongue swiped my bottom lip, begging me for entrance.

“You’re not gonna let me in, honey?” He whispered against my lips, warm breath making me shiver in his arms before I was able to gather my thoughts.

“I don’t think you deserve it.” I shrugged, but by Chris’ teasing smile, I knew I had just given him exactly what he wanted. In a quick move, he had me sprawled on the bed underneath him, while he hovered over me with dark eyes that I never thought I’d get to see outside of my dreams.

“Let me show you why you’re wrong.”

Chris’ P.O.V.

I started by rubbing the outside of her thighs until she opened her legs enough for me to settle in the space between them. I paid close attention to the way her breath hitched even with the softest of touches, incapable of stopping the grin that made its way into my face.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sensitive, baby.” She whined as I lowered myself to replace my fingers with my lips, slowly making out with the delicate skin of her inner thighs. “You see? This is why I was scared to reveal my feelings for you. It’d be so easy to ruin you.”

By the way she bit on her lower lip, I knew I had reached my goal of making her even more bothered with what I had said, and slowly, I ran my hands up her legs and grabbed her hips to pull her further down, closer to my mouth. I ran my tongue over her lower lip, just barely gathering the excess moisture, and despite how clearly affected she was, Y/N managed to grab my hair and whisper, “I think you’re full of it, Evans.” It made me smirk, but before I could even offer a comeback, she just continued, “But even if you’re right… I’d like nothing more than to be ruined by you and only you.”

A sharp inhale later and a competition of stares, I pounced on her, devouring her little pussy like I’d wish to do so many fucking times before. She was sweet, but her moans were even sweeter, and the combination of sounds and taste and smell only served to intoxicate me, make me even more thrilled about finally having this gorgeous woman underneath me.

As her juices dripped from my jaw on the bed, she kept caressing my head, keeping me closely connected to her like I would ever dream of stepping away from this moment. I wanted to stay right here forever, away from people’s judgements and the overwhelming fear that she would think this was a mistake after it was over.

And right here, as my nose brushed her clit as I plunged my tongue as far as it could go inside her hole, she came right before my eyes, her honey dripping onto my tongue as I came up to toy with her clit before at last parting with her taste.

“You’re so fucking sweet,” I pointed out, stealing her lips with mine so I could share her taste with her, so she’d know I was right. “You’re sweet all over. Shit, I really want to fuck you.” My voice became nothing but a whisper, and soon her hands were cradling my face, thumb playing with my bottom lip before I sucked it. It was true. I craved to feel her from the inside, know what it was like to possess her in that way, too.

“Then fulfill both of our wishes. I really want to be fucked by you.”

Godfuckingdamn. This girl was just perfect. I knew right then, I’d made the right choice by deciding to stick around. When she appeared wearing nothing but that shirt, I forgot all of the reasons that were holding me back from simply taking her, and even now, they didn’t seem all that important anymore.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Your wish is my command.” I heard the words and braced myself to finally feel his cock inside of me, but still, the second that its head managed to fit, a long, drawn-out moan revealed just how impossible it was for me to restrain myself as Chris stretched me open around his member.

“Fuck!” Chris shouted, and it surprised me so much that it made my eyes widen as I stared up at him, hands still holding tightly on his muscular shoulders. “Sorry! Sorry.” He repeated as he bottomed out, forehead resting against mine as he seemed to catch his breath. “I just… I imagined your moans, but hearing them is a completely different thing altogether.”

The sentence had butterflies flying in my stomach and the reality of the situation suddenly hit me. I was lying in bed completely naked with a still fully clothed Chris Evans on top of me, and his cock was filling me in ways I’d never been filled before while he kept releasing these breathy little moans that had my heart skipping a beat every damn time my mind registered them.

“Good to know I’m not the only one who has been dreaming about this,” I settled for whispering in his ear before sucking on his earlobe, and a shiver passed through his body, making me giggle.

“Yeah,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss me quickly before deciding to do it again. “But I’m even more glad that this is actually happening right now.” What could I add to this? I didn’t think there were any combination of words possible. So I resigned myself to feel it, memorize every single thing about this moment when Chris started to pull out only to push back in again. “Let me take care of you,” he whispered, and in that moment, I’d let him do anything to me, just as long as he kept fucking me like this.

His thrusts felt like waves washing over the shore, bringing the tide of desire higher and higher and I could feel it reaching the point where it all changed, the point where my life would turn upside down because I would know what it felt like to cum around Chris’ cock, and the anticipation was enough to have me writhing on the unmade sheets of the hotel bed.

“Shit,” Chris chuckled, and I opened my eyes to find him staring at me with a soft look on his. “You’re unbelievable, sweetheart.” I could see the desire in his darkened pupils. I was sure it mirrored my own. “So beautiful, and you take my cock so well.”

Hearing him talk dirty was everything I’d always wished for, and I could feel myself getting even wetter around him, whines and whimpers escaping my chest as I held him closer to me.

“Fuck, I really wanna buy you a collar with my name on it. Make sure everyone knows I own you now.” The words, paired with the warmth of his breath had me clenching around him, and I fucking melted when I heard him meanly chuckle at my state - the state that he had caused me. “You want it too, huh?”

I really, really did. I’d never been one for external marks of possession, but something about this, about Chris and I, really had me going crazy for his proposal. Maybe because a part of me thought he would never want to admit this had ever happened. I thought he would try to deny it, and so to hear him wishing to boast about it… It really had me going crazy under him.

“Say it.” His voice cut through the haze, making me realize I was actually about to cum again. It took me a while to understand what it wanted, just enough to have him ordering again, in a tone of voice that made every single part of me tingle, “Say you want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

“I do. I want everyone to know I’m yours and only yours, Christopher.” I don’t know if it was the desperation in my tone, my use of his full name or the fact that I came again, but that finally had him losing the control of his movements, quickly pulling out of me and jerking himself off until his cum was painted all over my stomach.

For a second, it was only our labored breaths in the bedroom, staring at each other like we couldn’t believe this had really happened. “Still think I’m a kid?” I had to laugh, biting my lower lip while trying not to show that I actually was really nervous about his reaction now that we were done. But his eyes softened, a quick kiss deposited on my lips before he cradled me in his arms, cum and all, and answered, “You’ll always be my little girl. I just want to do some very adult stuff to you.”

[mythiccheroacademia]

Can you please do a fic where kirishima and kaminari turning into babies and reader have to take care of them but kaminari dont like reader for some strange reason and them resolved it🤩 sorry for bad English 😅

A/N: this was such a cute request! the characters as babies just makes my heart 😚🥰😍 I hope y’all enjoy this one! and your english is great btw!

Warnings: cuteness overload? and some cussing bc bakugo’s here. what do you expect?

Kirishima Eijirou: 

when you woke up to bakugo banging on your door, you knew it was going to be a weird day 

bakugo was notrious for being an early bird, but he usually kept that to himself. so why was he screaming outside your door at 6 in the freaking morning?

“y/n! you have ten seconds to open this fucking door before i—“

you swung the door open with the meanest glare you could muster, ready to cuss him out

“what the hell do you want—“

your voice catches in your throat when you see a sleeping black haired child, no older than two, curled up in his arms 

you stare at the baby

then you stare at bakugo

bakugo stares back in confusion

then it clicks

“IT’S NOT MY FUCKING BABY!!” he explodes

“LANGUAGE BAKUGO!”

“STOP FUC--I MEAN FREAKING ASSUMING THINGS”

you didnt get a chance to respond before he shoves the baby in your arms and tells you it’s kirishima who got hit by a quirk during his internship 

the teachers knew and left him with katsuki, but he couldnt take care of him today bc he had to go to his intership, and he didnt trust anyone else with the child

so that’s how you ended up alone with baby kiripima 🥺

you find out very quickly that kirishima was as energetic as ever, even as a baby 

the minute he wakes up, he nearly jumps out of bed and declares to the entire room 

“g’ mornin’!” 

then he glomps you with the biggest hug 

“y/n! we swol too-day!!”

you figured out that he knows who you are but that’s the extent to which he does 

either way, he’s very excited to spend the day with you 

he’s still extroverted even as a kid and loves being around his friends

when you took him around to meet everybody, he just gobbled up the attention. most importantly, he just loved your attention

he such a show off for you omg 

he’ll be “ultra manly” and clean his mess all by himself 

or when you try and help him wash his hands, he’ll stop you with a determined pout and go “i can do it!” and concentrate really hard on scrubbing his hands clean 

when you’d praise him for eating all his food he’d give you the biggest shark-tooth smile and cutely blush from your words

he still kind of stumbled when he walked but whenever he saw something cool, he’d take your hand and basically drag you with him, excitment in his steps 

and when you showed him the gym?

he was in L O V E 🤩

you may or may not have taken a couple pictures when you saw him attempt to lift a five pound weight 

bath time is fun and easy bc he’s too busy pretending to be a shark to really think about the fact that he’s getting clean

when you tell him it’s bed time, he doesn’t wanna sleep at first. but then you make a sad face and he instantly drops what he’s doing and hurriedly says,

“okay! okay! i sleep! see!?”

goes and gets his blanket and curls up in your bed bc he’s the goodest boy and it’s unmanly to make a pretty person sad!

he looks so small and fluffy that you literally wanna bawl your eyes out 

ahhh he’s just the cutest!!

you lie next to him and decide to take a nap too bc it’s been a long day 

before you fall asleep, you feel the small boy nuzzle into your chest and wrap his arms around your neck 

“night night. luh you,” he whispers before he starts to snore 

like 🥺🥺🥺

you could seriosuly die happy 

the next day, you wake up with a heavier arm around your shoulders. it’s so heavy that you can barely move and it confuses you 

when you open your eyes, you see that kirishima has gone back to normal 

and usually you’d be freaking out bc you may or may not have a small crush on him and now that he was normal sized, you were staunchly reminded of it

but when he pulls you in closer to his embrace, you can’t seem to care rn

for now, you’ll just enjoy this moment

Kaminari Denki:

“Y/N!! watch out!”

you were all kinds of confused when kaminari jumped in front of you to protect you from a villain’s quirk and he disappeared

and just when you were about to freak out, you heard small whimpers and cries 

you looked to the ground and saw that kaminari hadnt disappeared

your best friend just turned into a freaking two year old child 

and you dont think he likes you 

at all 

once you two were brought to safety, it was like denki finally took a good look at who was holding him and just

flipped shit 

he gives you a firm (but cute) frown that makes you blink in confusion

then he suddenly pushes his hands against your chest to try and get away 

“no! stop! i wanna go!”

at first, you thought he was scared so you attempted to soothe him but it’s no use

he’s admant on throwing his tiny temper tantrum

although, when recovery girl takes him to go get checked, he instantly calms down and smiles as she tells him how cute he his 

you can’t say you didnt feel your heart break just a little 💔💔💔

but youre determined to win over his affection bc wth? you’re supposed to be best friends! 

(read: you had a crush on older denki and you couldnt handle the fact that these might be his true feelings towards you and he might actually not like you)

so the entire day, you’re doing everything you can to make the kid at least acknowledge you 

right now, it’s the bakusquad that’s collectively taking care of him for the day, but you’re there to help

you try to tell him jokes babies could understand and he’ll just look at you and turn away 

mina told you that food was the best way to a guy’s heart so you made him his favorite (soft) food as a peace offering

and you were absolutely crushed when he stiffened up and refused to eat it until bakugo scared him into eating 

he turns away and you just 💔😞

after that, you sighed and gave up

you sorrowfully accepted the fact that denki just didnt like you :(

at least you now know your chances of being with him was nonexistent

you made up some excuse to leave the room bc you coudlnt take the heartbreak

everyone pretty much bought into it

all except denki who might have been a child, but he was still as perceptive as ever 

unbeknowest to you, denki didnt really dislike you 

the reason he was acting like a jerk was bc you put yourself in danger during the mission and he was so angry about it 

he didnt know how to confront these feelings so he just ignored you 

but when he saw the silver tears line your eyes, he felt so bad 😭

he didn’t know how to emotion™️

pls don’t leave him :(((

the emotions overwhelmed him so much to the point that he bursted out in tears and wasn’t cosoled by anything 

“come on, bro! what’s wrong!?” sero anxiously asked 

“y/n! i want y/n!”

he didnt have to say it twice 

the group basically shove him in your arms and youre confused when denki latches onto you like a life line bc did he just hate you three seconds ago?

despite your saddness, you comfort him by whispering sweet nothings in his ear and denki is instaneously consoled solely by your voice 

the crying takes a lot of energy from him and he can barely keep his eyes open

but before he sleeps, he softly says, “i wa’ scare-d. sowwy y/n”

again, you’re confused, but you were too tired to think about it so you decide to go to bed and deal with this tomorrow

it’s the next day and your face-to-face with a normal kaminari who’s obviously been awake for some time and looks petrified 

now that he’s older, you’re reminded of everything he put you through and you’re salty af about it

“you still hate me?” you sassily say 

denki’s face erupts in an embarrassed blush and youre surprised when he buries his head in your neck, holding you close to his chest 

without looking at you, he explains his true feelings for you in a really round about way

you pull his face back to look at him and as he sputters out apologies to you, you kiss is nose 

“you idiot. i like you too if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

denki stares before short-circuting and you just laugh as he mumbles happily to himself 

[hermannsthumb]

I've read fics where Hermann disapproves of PDAs but what about the reverse? As in he's so stunned at winning the most amazing man in the Shatterdome (6 phds, literal rockstar, gorgeous Newt) that he deliberately provokes contact and shows of affection. Just to show off to people and send a clear back off signal. And Newt just dotes on him obliviously.

ok this one is another super old prompt and when I was writing it this week it KINDA got away from me. but I hope everyone enjoyyyys. partially inspired from conversations with @k-sci-janitor 👀 totally sfw, except for one brief reference

anyway, a fic about hermann being all affectionate with newt and also discovering what relaxation is 

——————————————-------------------------------------------

The day after the world doesn’t end, Hermann brings Newt breakfast in bed.

Honestly, it surprises Newt more than the whole world not ending thing. Up until the previous evening, after all, Newt was pretty damn sure the guy absolutely hated him, and that if Hermann was gonna do something as out of character as bringing him breakfast, it surely meant he’d spat in it first. Or maybe poisoned it. If hated isn’t the right word, Newt would say Hermann at the very least barely tolerated. And then the whole sharing the neural load thing happened. And, after that, hugging, not once, but twice, and then falling asleep in bed together. And now Hermann’s perched on the edge of his bed (which they shared while they slept) and handing him a plate.

“You had quite the busy day yesterday,” Hermann says kindly. Hermann has never spoken to Newt kindly before. Atop the plate are two pieces of toast, a soft-boiled egg, and a mug of coffee. The coffee and toast (Newt notices) are exactly the shade he prefers. He wonders if Hermann picked up on it before or after the whole mind-melding thing. Before wouldn’t surprise him—Hermann has always been weird about noticing details like that. The egg, however, is something purely Hermann in taste. “I imagine you could use a nice spot of breakfast,” he adds.

Newt shoves his glasses on and blinks at Hermann groggily. He struggles to sit up, partially tangled in his sheets, and then takes the plate. A little bit of coffee sloshes down onto one of the slices of toast. “Are you wearing my sweatshirt?” he says.

Hermann smiles and looks down at the ragged old MIT sweatshirt he’s tossed on. He may have a few inches on Newt, but he’s still one skinny motherfucker, and it hangs almost comically off his frame. “I am,” he says. “I poked around in your closet, I hope you don’t mind. My clothing was in a rather sorry state.”

Sorry state is an understatement for both of them. Newt’s surprised they haven’t been formally ordered to burn the shit they wore to the bone slums yet. Blood, dirt, and kaiju guts aside, Newt’s, at least, reeks to high heaven with sweat. “No worries,” Newt says. He picks up the coffee and blows on it. He wonders where Hermann got coffee that smells this good. It’s been hard to find anything decent and non-instant on the base these days, and (thanks to limited rations) chain shops like Starbucks cost an arm and a leg for even a small. He also wonders what people thought when they saw Hermann strutting around the base with bedhead in a sweatshirt that obviously wasn’t his. Newt almost wants to blush on his behalf. Scandalous.

Before Newt can so much as take a sip of the coffee, Hermann is suddenly unbuckling and shucking off his grey slacks. “Dude!” Newt yelps, flushing bright red to the tips of his ears. Hermann blinks at him innocently. “What are you doing?”

It’s not so much that Newt is upset as it is that it’s so wildly out of character for Hermann that he feels he owes it to Hermann to act at least moderately scandalized. In all his years of knowing and working alongside Hermann, he’s never so much as seen Hermann’s bare wrist before. Now he’s in Newt’s goddamn bed flashing calves, and thighs, and neatly-pressed little white briefs… Hermann rolls his eyes and tosses the slacks (unfolded!) onto Newt’s desk chair. “Making myself comfortable,” he says. “Would you like me to stop?”

Does Hermann iron his underwear? It would be at odds with the rest of his clothing if he did, which is usually in various stages of frumpy to outright wrinkled, but Newt can’t think of how else it would look like that. He wonders if Hermann’s stitched his name on the inner waistband. It seems like the kind of thing Hermann would do. Newt suddenly realizes he’s been staring at Hermann’s briefs (and, worse still, considering how cute Hermann looks in just them and Newt’s sweatshirt) for an uncomfortably long time, so he quickly shakes his head and drags his eyes to Hermann’s face. One of Hermann’s eyebrows is quirked up. Newt hasn’t been subtle. “No,” he says. He clears his throat. “No, dude, you’re—all good.”

He chokes down a too-hot sip of coffee to have something to do with his mouth.

Hermann smirks.

The bedcovers are drawn back. Hermann slips under them and drapes an arm across Newt’s chest, his hand curling protectively over Newt’s hip. With his other hand he snags Newt’s coffee from his grasp and takes a sip. Newt watches his jaw and throat work as he swallows it, a funny feeling blooming in the pit of his stomach. The mug is handed back over, Hermann’s fingers brushing against Newt’s, which make Newt feel even funnier. “Newton,” Hermann declares. “I think we ought to have sex.”

“Oh,” Newt says. “Can I finish my breakfast first?”

“Certainly,” Hermann says.

Newt’s heart pounds as he spreads a little packet of margarine across one of the pieces of toast; he can feel Hermann’s eyes on him, never straying once. Hermann’s hand draws little circles on his hip. Newt drops his toast twice to the plate before he can successfully take a bite, and even when he does, he doesn’t taste it. Hermann’s fingers dip under the hem of his t-shirt. Newt swallows his toast. “Why?” he says.

Apparently it’s the right question. Hermann nods, like he’s pleased Newt has asked. Like they’re talking theories or something. “I came to the conclusion while I fetching your coffee,” Hermann says. “It occurred to me that I wouldn’t have gotten up at seven in the morning to get coffee for just anyone. Then, of course, there is the whole drifting business—”

“You realized you wouldn’t have done that for just anyone too, huh?” Newt says with a smile. Hermann’s hand on his hip stills, and his cheeks go pink. Newt’s relieved to have gotten some ground back here. “Hermann, that’s sooo romantic.”

“The world was at stake,” Hermann sniffs.

“It’s okay,” Newt says. “I won’t tell anyone the great Dr. Gottlieb has feelings. So, what, you realized you have a big ole crush on me?”

Hermann takes the unfinished piece of toast from him and sets it down on his plate. He pulls Newt’s glasses off, kisses him soundly, and then puts Newt’s glasses back on. His mouth tastes like toothpaste. “On the contrary, I’ve always suspected it,” he says. “It’s just that now I have the time to confirm it.” He reaches up and strokes at Newt’s hair. “We have the time for lots of things, now, Newton. Whatever we’d like.”

Newt finishes off his coffee quickly, not even caring when he burns his tongue, and then tosses the remainder of his breakfast to the floor. His egg spills onto the massacred skinny corduroys he wore yesterday. Whatever, Newt’s burning them anyway. “God, get overhere already, man,” he says, tugging at Hermann’s borrowed sweatshirt. He needs to help Hermann confirm his crush or whatever, pronto.

--

It’s a few days before Newt and Hermann finally drag themselves out of bed and to the lab to tackle what little work remains for them to do—cataloguing what are apparently the last kaiju samples known to man (Newt), recording and backing up their drift data (Newt’s solo drift, and then their joint data), drawing some random scribbles on the board and pretending they’re important calculations about the possibility of the Breach reopening (Hermann. Okay, whatever, maybe they are important). Unfortunately, the delay isn’t for any sexy reasons, as much as Newt would’ve liked it to have been. The events of the last day of the war caught up with them pretty quickly after that morning in Newt’s bed, and they mostly just slept, ordered out dinner, popped ibuprofen for their various aches, and avoided medical at all costs. (Rumor had it the medical staff on base were looking for him and Hermann so they could do some brain scans. Apparently drifting with a kaiju brain is potentially dangerous, who knew.)

A rancid smell washes over them the second they push the heavy lab doors open, and Newt spots several hunks of kaiju organs rotting away on his workbench. Hermann clamps a hand to his mouth. “Oops,” Newt says, turning to Hermann sheepishly. He can’t help but cower as he does. He and Hermann got along swimmingly the past couple days—it’ll be sad to see all that hard work go down the drain over this. “Guess I forgot to clean up the other day. In my defense—we were kind of busy.”

But Hermann doesn’t snap at Newt, or thump his cane on the ground, or call Newt an idiot, or even look annoyed; he lowers his hand from his mouth and laughs. Albeit a terse laugh, but still. Newt gapes at him. “We were rather busy,” Hermann concedes. “So long as you clean it up in the next ten minutes, I—what, Newton?”

“Nothing,” Newt says, quickly. “I’m gonna—um—deal with it now.”

Hermann disappears from the lab while Newt is digging around in the storage closet for extra heavy-duty trash bags. When he comes back an hour later, he’s holding a cardboard tray of small plastic cups, and Newt has just hefted his last spoiled sample into the lab’s airtight biohazard bin (a bit mournfully, if he’s being honest, since he’s sure there’s still more to learn about the kaiju from them). Newt squints at the cups in the tray while he rips his messy disposable work gloves off. “What’s that?” he says.

“Iced coffee,” Hermann declares.

The gloves slap, wetly, into the biohazard bin, and Newt lets out a low whistle. “Dude. No way. From where?” He’s not sure when he gave off the impression that the way to his heart was good coffee, but maybe it’s true. Then again, Hermann could probably win him over with a cup of lukewarm tap water. Not because Newt is desperate or anything. He just really likes Hermann.

“A little shop a bit away from the base,” Hermann says. “I took the bus.” He draws back his chair and sits down with a soft sigh, setting his cane against his desk. Then he draws out a small brown paper bag from his parka pocket. He tosses it to Newt; Newt catches it with one hand. “They had these funny little cakes on sticks. I thought you might like one.”

“Cake pops?” Newt says.

“I presume,” Hermann says. While Newt inhales the little chocolate-dipped cake pop (which is so good, oh my God, Newt hasn’t had dessert that didn’t come from a vending machine in plastic shrink wrap in years), Hermann adds, “I wasn’t sure what sort of iced coffee you liked, so I made sure to get a variety.”

“Sick,” Newt says, spewing crumbs on his shirt. “Um. But, like, why though?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hermann says. “I suppose I wanted to do something kind for you.” He carefully slides a straw out of its paper wrappings and pokes it into the lid of one of the coffees. Once he crumples up the wrapper and tosses It into his train bin, he grips his cane, and uses the handle to nudge Newt’s desk chair towards him. “You worked awfully hard cleaning the laboratory.”

Newt preens a little, even as he privately wonders why Hermann’s acting so weird. Well, nice. But nice is weird for Hermann, so they’re basically the same thing. Is this part of his whole deciding whether or not he digs Newt thing? Newt just assumed the awesome morning they spent together would be proof enough of that. Then again, Hermann’s pretty thorough. “I guess,” Newt says. “It was kind of my mess, though.”

Hermann pats at the empty chair with a smile. Hermann’s smiles are so rare—crooked, and stupid cute—that Newt’s heart gives a painful little twist at the sight of it, and he realizes he doesn’t actually give a shit about why Hermann’s being all weird, actually. “You’ve earned a break,” Hermann says. “Besides, I’d like to spend time with you.”

Newt’s too stunned to argue with that one. When he sits down, Hermann inches their chairs together until their knees are touching.

--

They don’t necessarily fall back into their usual habits by the next week, but the better ones they’ve picked up (being a little kinder to each other, a little more patient, a little more respectful, and also the fact that Hermann can’t seem to stop touching Newt) all but fall into the background as Newt throws himself into his work with renewed determination. Unfortunately, his desire to get it all done as soon as fucking possible speaks less to his awesome work ethic, and more to the fact that he’s just not sure what else to do with himself now, and he likes that work gives him the excuse to not think about it. Hermann said they have all the time to do whatever they like now. Well, Newt likes working. He knows working. Relaxation is a foreign concept to him, and it was a foreign concept to Hermann up until recently. While Newt is toiling away over his decaying kaiju samples in the lab, Hermann is out—

“Where?” Newt says.

Hermann gives Newt the most serene smile Newt’s ever seen cross his face. “I took a bath,” he says. “It was very nice. I bought some nice soaps, and lit some candles, and looked online to see how to do one of those mud masks. It was very relaxing. You ought to try it.”

“Try bathing?” Newt says.

“Yes. Well, no. I mean taking a bath. Is there something you’re not understanding?”

Newt tries to imagine Hermann with a mud mask on his face and cucumbers over his eyes and fails miserably. Hermann hates messes. He would never stand for mud, let alone on his skin. Where’d he even find a bathtub? Did he break into the rangers’ locker room again? Aren't candles banned on base for being a fire hazard, anyway? “Yeah,” Newt says. “Pretty much all of it.”

Hermann shakes his head with a snort, and Newt catches a whiff of something floral and fragrant—his fancy new soap or oil, he guesses. “I’m not surprised. You know, Newton, you are awfully tense.”

Hearing that from Hermann of all people, the king of having-a-massive-stick-up-your-ass, is probably the funniest thing that’s ever happened to Newt. He laughs out loud and plunges a bare hand into his kaiju sample with a gross squelching noise. “Sure, dude.”

He’s almost too engrossed in his sample to feel Hermann sidling up behind him and setting a hand at his waist. He definitely feels Hermann nose a kiss behind his ear, though, and the hot flush that spreads down across his neck from it. Newt’s hand goes sweaty around his scalpel. One thing he definitely wasn’t expecting from a post-no-apocalypse Hermann is how free he is with affection in any and all forms. “Give it a rest, love,” Hermann murmurs. He nudges at the heel of Newt’s boot with the end of his cane. Love? “Why don’t we head back to my quarters and watch a film? You can pick.”

“But.” Newt fidgets. “I have—my sample—”

Another little kiss. The soapy-oil smell is stronger now. Newt thinks it might be lavender. He wonders if the mud mask left Hermann’s skin all soft. “It won’t be going anywhere, Newton.”

Newt sets down his scalpel.

When they they pass by a group of LOCCENT staff in the hallway, Newt makes to drop Hermann’s hand (which Hermann had laced together with his own before they left the lab), but Hermann holds fast, maybe even faster than before, and looks at him with his stupidly sweet set of big eyes. Newt waits until they round the corner to say anything. “Sorry,” he says, lamely. “Um. I thought—you wouldn’t want—” Hermann continues to stare at him. His iris is still ringed red like Newt’s. “I just mean I know you’re weird about stuff like that. Public stuff.” Hermann has been a closed and tightly-bound book for as long as Newt’s known him; he can’t imagine that would suddenly change and he would start broadcasting his emotions far and wide in the course of a week just because he’s a little less stressed.

Or, you know. Maybe Newt’s totally wrong on this. “Ah,” Hermann says. He nods, very seriously. “Yes. I have been considering that as well. I see no reason to hide recent developments in our relationship.” He squeezes Newt’s hand. "In fact, I see no reason to not be quite, er, proud of them. You’re quite the catch.”

Newt remembers the stolen sweatshirt. Maybe Hermann wearing it out to get them breakfast was more calculated than he realized. “So if I made out with you against the wall right now you wouldn’t be mad?” Newt says.

“Well,” Hermann says, inclining his head to his door, "seeing as my quarters are right there, it seems a rather unnecessary inconvenience.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Newt smiles as Hermann leads him in. “Can I really pick the movie?”

“Within reason.”

[spencers-renaissance]

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.6

it leaves me cold

Chapter Five

This is the sixth chapter in my ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Last Chapter: Penelope ambushed Spencer in his apartment, proved herself the best friend ever, and finally got him some psychiatric help.

In This Chapter: Aaron — furiously angry at the team and convinced Spencer wants nothing to do with him — finally has enough and goes to visit him. Even Penelope can't prepare him for what he'll find.

TW: same as usual — except this time the depictions of depression are representative of a major depressive episode. Spencer requires help with bathing/washing/personal care.

Word Count: 4.7k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

AARON

I can't exactly describe how I feel, but it's not quite right. And it leaves me cold. — F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Love of the Last Tycoon

Aaron has spent the last three weeks in shock, floating through the days absently as he goes through the motions of his daily routines. Guilt has been throbbing through his veins with each painful heartbeat, only exacerbated when every one of his attempts to reach out to Spencer is rebuffed. He can’t exactly blame him, though: he hasn’t let anyone down this badly since Haley’s death, the least he deserves is the silent treatment.

It doesn’t matter that objectively he knows his life has been far too hectic to notice something Spencer was trying so hard to conceal, because when he runs over every interaction they’d had in his head, he can’t believe he missed it. Spencer’s misery was staring him right in the face and he was too blinded, too self-absorbed in his own problems to help the man his heart won’t shut up about, no matter how hard he tries to convince himself of its impropriety.

Penelope had taken yesterday off to help Spencer with a few things, and Aaron couldn’t have been quicker to grant her the leave. If Spencer doesn’t want him around, he can at least rest easy with the knowledge that he was allowing someone to help him. And there isn’t anybody better at caring for other people than Penelope Garcia. That doesn’t help much, though. Not when he spends every moment she’s gone wishing he was the one looking after him, fulfilling his every need and want.

Honestly, he’s just glad they don’t have a case on at the moment. For one, he has a mountain of paperwork he needs to catch up on — including finding Spencer’s replacement, a necessary task no matter how painful — but he also knows he’d not be much use in catching America’s Most Wanted in this mindset.

He looks up from his blurred-over gaze at the paperwork on his desk when Dave taps on the doorframe. “Got a second?” he asks, already making his way into the room.

Aaron sits back in his chair, running a hand across his face as he takes in Dave’s concerned expression. He’s been avoiding him the past few weeks — he’s been avoiding everyone the past few weeks: he works with profilers who are paid to figure out what’s going on in people’s heads and he knows he’ll be read like a book if he lets himself get close enough. Not to mention his desire to lay blame at the feet of his co-workers. As far as he’s concerned, they should all be consumed with guilt even stronger than that which is eating away at him; they all let Spencer down, and emotional turmoil is a small price to pay for such a heinous crime.

“How’s the hunt for a new team member going?” Dave asks, and Aaron resents his easy, honest body language as he sits with his knees apart and shoulders relaxed and open. It’s alright for some, he supposes.

He sighs and reaches for the pile of applications to his right, thumbing through them half-heartedly. “A lot of people want to join the BAU,” he says, after a moment of reaching for something to say.

“Well,” Dave raises an eyebrow as a knowing smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, “have you even started looking through those?”

Aaron looks up at him from under his dark eyebrows, leveling him with a steely gaze. He leans back in his chair again a few seconds later, clasping his hands in front of him. “What do you want, Dave?”

He sighs at that, looking down for a moment before meeting Aaron’s eyes with a determined look of his own. “You’ve been avoiding the entire team since Spencer left,” he says frankly, “and as private as you try to be, Aaron, I know you. I know how you feel about him. You’re torturing yourself.”

“Well, maybe I deserve that torture,” he bites back angrily, the words tumbling from his lips before he can stop them. “I failed, Dave, we all did. And sometimes I think I’m the only one who actually cares about that. I know everyone’s sad Spencer’s gone, but how can all of you feel that way and not hate yourself for contributing to the loss of this unit’s best asset, both personally and professionally?”

Dave looks puzzled at that. “Spencer left of his own accord, Aaron. That’s got nothing to do with the rest of this team.”

Rage — furious, agonising rage — sparks in his chest and he closes his eyes for a moment as he pleads with himself to keep his cool. It’s not his place to share with the rest of the team why Spencer left, but he’s also furious that Dave can apparently use his profiling skills to work out he’s half in love with Spencer, but not apply them enough to realise how much pain their youngest team member was in.

“I suggest you think about the last year long and hard,” Aaron murmurs, low and bitter, and he knows he sounds passive-aggressive but he doesn’t care. He’s too blinded with fury at himself and the rest of this team to care about professionalism right now. “Maybe you’ll understand, then.”

He doesn’t watch Dave leave the room.

Penelope comes into his office that evening, dropping off files he had asked for.

“Come and sit down, Garcia.” He’s exhausted and human contact is not what he really wants right now, but Penelope has information about Spencer he longs to hear. Burying himself in his paperwork again can wait a few minutes.

“Sir?” She looks a little puzzled as she obeys and takes a seat across from him, her bright yellow dress bringing a little colour to his day.

“How’s Spencer doing?” he asks, bone-weary tiredness seeping into his voice as he meets her gaze.

She casts her eyes downwards, her fingers fidgeting in her lap as she considers how to answer the question. “I took him to the doctor yesterday,” she starts carefully, “but he’s hurt. And miserable. He thinks we all hate him, that we’ve excluded him on purpose… he was telling me how he’s been feeling for the past year and it broke my heart. Sir, I’m only being this honest with you because I know you’re aware of Spencer’s mental state, but the others aren’t. And it’s not our place to say.”

“I agree,” he reassures her, nodding. “I’m glad he has you, Garcia. You’re a good friend.”

She pauses for a moment, but she must see something in his face because she eventually musters the courage to say what’s really on her mind. “I hope I’m not overstepping, but Spencer… he needs you, Hotch. I know that he’s been over to see you and Jack a few times and from what I hear that’s the only thing that kept him going for those last few months working here.”

“Garcia, he’s not answering my calls or texts,” he sighs, wishing with every bone in his body that Spencer really does need him the way Penelope says he does; the way Aaron needs him, but he thinks there’s probably a better chance of the sky falling in. “I’ve got the message. He definitely doesn’t need me, I can promise you that.”

“Sir, I know you’re my boss,” she says evenly, averting her eyes slightly, her tell that she’s trying to stay calm, “but you’re being really stupid right now. Spencer is in a lot of pain, I’ve seen it first hand this last week, and I’m in a much better position to say what he needs than you. Communication is overwhelming and exhausting for him, and he’s feeling guilty about leaving you and me. I feel as guilty about all of this as you do, but you can’t let your emotions dictate how you act right now. You’ll only end up hurting him further. If you turn up at his place, I can promise you he will let you in.”

She takes a breath in before meeting his relaxed, open gaze. “I love you both very much, but you are both being idiots,” she huffs before levelling him with a stern glare and storming back to her own office.

With Penelope vacating the room, Aaron is left alone with his head reeling. He knows how close Penelope and Spencer are and he can’t think of a reason for her to lie, especially with Spencer being in such a fragile state, but he simply can’t wrap his head around the possibility of what she’s saying being the truth. He’s so desperate not to get his hopes up; he isn’t sure he can take another heartbreak so soon after losing Haley.

When he turns his phone over, he sees two messages from Penelope: He took today off to recover from yesterday. He’ll be home. Under the files she’s left in his office is a key and a pretty, pink piece of note paper with the code to Spencer’s building printed in dark purple gel pen.

🌧

Aaron can’t believe he’s doing this. He’d spent most of the drive over convincing himself he wasn’t — he absolutely was not — going to use the key Penelope had slid into his office without him noticing. She wasn’t far from begging him when she walked into his office and that’s the only reason he even considered it in the first place. But that innocuous ‘considering’ had landed him here, standing outside Spencer’s apartment, trying to work the courage up to actually go inside.

God, there are so many reasons not to do this. It feels wrong to even be thinking about someone other than his dead ex-wife, but he also knows she’d want him to be happy, and when he really thinks about it those sparks of emotion he wasn’t able to put his finger on were happening long before Haley passed.

“Spencer is in a lot of pain.” Penelope’s desperate words to him earlier wouldn’t stop rattling around his head. Knowing what his heart is longing for now, and knowing what Haley would have wanted for him and Jack, he was finally launched into action.

He can’t believe he’s doing this. That’s true. But he is also absolutely going to do it. He slides his key into the lock on the front door of Spencer’s apartment and pushes it open gently. The living room is dark but tidy; Penelope had told him she was helping him around the house, and he walks in just enough to close the door behind him, its soft click the only sound to be heard.

Gingerly, he makes his way through the lounge and kitchen, heading towards the bedrooms at the back. Two of the doors are open, one obviously the bathroom, the other seeming to be an office of sorts, but one of them is closed. There isn’t any light coming from under the door despite it only being 7, and if he didn’t know better he’d assume nobody’s home.

He does know better though, and not just because of Penelope’s earlier text. He knows Spencer is fighting depression, and he knows he’ll be exhausted both physically and mentally from his day yesterday. That only leaves two options: Spencer is laying completely silently in the dark, or he’s asleep. Considering the time of day, Aaron isn’t sure which of those is better.

“Spencer?” he calls quietly as he pushes the door to his bedroom open. There’s a Spencer-shaped lump hidden under the blankets, but he isn’t moving, so he flicks the hallway light on before making his way towards the bed. The light casts a pretty shadow across Spencer’s face, but Aaron is more focused on the tear tracks staining his cheekbones. “Hey, Spencer?” He touches his arm gently, rubbing a little when he doesn’t flinch. Relief flashes across his chest as soon as he starts to move.

“Aaron?” he asks sleepily, sounding confused. He doesn’t spring upright though, simply burying deeper under what he suspects are very comfortable, warm blankets.

“How are you feeling?” He tries to keep his voice soft and careful, but he can hear the naked, unadulterated fearful concern he feels for Spencer bleeding into his words.

“Tired,” Spencer sighs, and as soon as he admits it, a fresh tear drops from his eye straight to the pillow. “Sad.” Aaron watches as he blinks to try and stop any more tears from betraying how he feels, but it just makes things worse. His heart aches as he watches Spencer curl further into himself as he tries to fight the emotions welling up inside him.

“Hey,” he says gently, “it’s okay.” He reaches out to tenderly touch Spencer's cheek, fingers so light he barely makes contact. He has no idea what he’s doing, but he honestly doesn’t care. Everything inside of him is screaming to take care of the man lying in bed as he falls apart. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

Surprisingly, that actually seems to work. Spencer relaxes slightly and lets the tears fall, uninhibited. The defeated expression on his face still eats Aaron up inside, but the pain is mixed with relief that Penelope might actually have been right. Maybe Spencer does need him. As much as it kills him that Spencer’s even in this position to begin with, he’d much rather he be going through the darkness with him at his side than alone; he’d much rather actually be able to do something to ease the pain than sit in his office feeling helpless.

“Have you eaten anything today?” He caresses Spencer’s cheek with a bit more confidence, and his heart clenches tightly when he feels the younger man lean into his touch. Emboldened, he reaches his other hand under the duvet and clasps one of Spencer’s cold hands in his own, threading their fingers together. He swears he can hear music when Spencer holds his hand tightly, clutching at it as though it’s the last connection he has to the real world.

“Don’t think so,” Spencer murmurs, letting his eyes droop closed again.

“Do you think you maybe feel like eating something now? If I made it for you?”

Spencer squeezes his eyes closed at that and clasps at Aaron’s hand even tighter. “No, please don’t go,” he begs, sounding as desperate as Aaron feels.

“Hey, hey, okay,” he says soothingly, holding Spencer’s hand tightly in his own as he lays his other palm flat against his cheek, noticing how the firm touch seems to relax him. “How about if we ordered something? Then I don’t have to leave.”

He waits patiently for Spencer’s hesitant nod of consent before pulling his phone out and quickly ordering from the curry house he knows is his favourite. Later, he’ll stop to think about all the little pieces of information he’s stored up on Spencer over the years; he’ll consider why his brain thought small things like his favourite foods and the way he smiles every time a Sarah MacLachlan song comes on were important enough to store away for moments like these.

Right now, though, all his focus is on the man in front of him.

“Can you…” Spencer starts hesitantly, voice cracking, “can you come up here?” He refuses to meet Aaron’s eyes as if sure he’s going to refuse, and he doesn’t know how to tell him just how unfounded his fear is. He’d lasso the moon and wrap it in ribbon if Spencer asked for it.

He climbs onto the bed carefully, surprised when Spencer immediately moves to lean his head against his chest, burying into his warmth. Aaron can hear his pounding heart in his ears and he knows there’s no way to conceal its fast-paced rhythm from a man with his ear to his chest, so he simply forces himself to relax into the bizarre position he’s somehow found himself in, and it slowly starts to calm down.

“Aaron?”

God, he loves it when Spencer uses his first name. It’s so personal, so intimate, and it fills his chest with something akin to euphoria every time it graces his ears. “Yes?”

“Why did you come?”

Well. Isn’t that a question. Truthfully, it’s because it feels like there’s some magnetic pull between Aaron’s heart and Spencer’s; like anywhere Spencer is, Aaron needs to be. The feelings he’s been confused by — the ones he’s been trying to ignore, the ones he’s pretending not to understand despite his subconscious longing for Spencer’s company, his touch, his love — are more prominent and undeniable than ever before. But above all, he came because Spencer needed him. And he’d do that no matter what his brain was screaming at him, or what his heart longed for.

This isn’t exactly the time for a bold, terrifying declaration of love, though, is it?

“You needed me,” he says simply, after a long, telling pause. “And there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.

Spencer nods, pressing impossibly closer to Aaron. Tears are still making their way down his cheeks, wetting the fabric of Aaron’s shirt, but he doesn’t care. He’ll be anything Spencer needs, and if that’s a hug and a good cry, then that’s perfectly fine. He wraps his hand around Spencer’s waist, hugging him closely and he feels him relax even further. The feeling of his small frame pressed against his own is unparalleled, and he has to breathe deeply to keep himself calm. He’s so far gone.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks when he feels another sob wrack Spencer’s shoulders.

“I’m exhausted, Aaron,” he replies, voice thick and eyes droopy. “I’m mentally and physically exhausted and I’m lonely. I’m afraid… I’m afraid I’ll never be happy again. I’m tired like I’ve never been tired before, and I just— I can’t keep going like this, you know? I’m never going to get the things I want.”

He presses closer as he says his last sentence and, distantly, Aaron wonders what it is that he wants exactly. A small voice in his head suggests something so preposterous he has to push it aside violently. He might have these feelings for Spencer, but expecting any kind of reciprocation is only going to end in heartbreak; getting his hopes up is simply irresponsible no matter how many stupid, reckless, hope-ridden inklings he might have.

“Spencer,” he starts, but his voice catches and he has to take a moment to compose himself. “Why didn’t you say something? You could have told me, I— I would have helped you.”

“Aaron, you had — still have — so much on your plate, I couldn’t burden you with my… feelings.”

At that ridiculous notion, he reaches for Spencer’s hand and takes it, holding it gently in his own. “You, Spencer Reid, are never a burden to me,” he insists, moving his hand from Spencer’s waist to his short hair, caressing his head soothingly. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You are so incredibly important to me, I’m so unbelievably sorry that I ever let you forget that. That we — that this little family ever let you believe you were anything less than crucial and adored. I’ll never forgive myself for not noticing how much pain you were in sooner.”

“You don’t need to—”

“Yes, I do,” Aaron interrupts him. “We let you down, Spencer. There are no two ways about it. I will spend the rest of my days apologising to you for not seeing how much agony you were in, no matter how well you were concealing it. You work with profilers, and not one person spotted the burden you were carrying. I can’t imagine how much that must have hurt.”

Just like that, the quiet, steady flow of tears Spencer had been crying since Aaron woke him up turn into loud, heaving, heart-wrenching sobs. He turns his face to bury it flat into Aaron’s shirt, rolling so he’s almost on top of him as he searches desperately for purchase in his imploding, grieving state. He holds Spencer as tight as possible, letting him scramble and grip at whatever he can as he completely falls apart, sending little pieces of himself into the atmosphere until he’s nothing but a shell of himself, a broken skeleton with nothing left to give.

It takes almost ten minutes for his violent sobbing to subside, and by the time it does Aaron’s crying too, heart breaking clean down the middle as he tries to hold a broken man together with just his hands. The raw, hopeless, unrestrained emotion in Spencer’s sobs cuts straight through his soul, as if every one of this godforsaken earth’s weighty, miserable grievances have been spilled by one man’s tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs again as Spencer collapses against him, exhaustion palpable as he allows his boneless body to be cradled by Aaron. He has to push aside his self-hatred in order to comfort the younger man — the wrath at himself and the rest of his team can only be unhelpful right now — but he can’t help it from swelling in his chest.

Their food arrives minutes later, and Aaron carries Spencer to the sofa in the living room, internally cringing at how ridiculously easy it is to pick him up, even with his own, albeit mostly healed, injuries still flaring up from time to time. He flicks on the lamp and tucks him in a blanket before running out to get their food. When he returns, Spencer’s staring at nothing as he lays on the sofa, looking so utterly defeated Aaron feels it himself.

“Hey, how do you feel about some food?” he asks softly, perching next to him on the sofa. “Maybe just a little naan? Or some poppadoms?”

Spencer stares at the food Aaron’s laid on the coffee table, a stray tear running down his cheek. He doesn’t even think he’s even crying anymore, it’s just his body doing what it’s used to. Aaron recognises pretty quickly that he’s not up to making any sort of decision, so he plates up a small serving of food: a little naan, half a poppadom, some pilau rice, and some onion bhajis. “Try this.”

Spencer takes the plate obediently and brings a bite of naan to his lips. Aaron gives him some space and serves up his own food before checking the kitchen for some drinks. The naan and some of the rice have disappeared from the plate by the time he gets back with two glasses of water, and he doesn’t even fight the small smile that makes it onto his face at the sight. He’d prepared himself for a hunger strike.

“Let’s watch a documentary,” he suggests, reaching for the remote and flicking the TV on. “How does that sound?”

Spencer actually brightens a little at the suggestion, breaking off a piece of bhaji and sitting up a bit taller. He takes the win and sets the TV to the history channel, catching the beginning of a documentary on European castles.

“Did you know that Wales has more castles than any other European country?” Spencer offers quietly, and Aaron’s heart flip flops happily in his chest — hearing Spencer talk about something he’s interested in, hearing a fact fall from his lips feels like some sort of progress. It’s like seeing a little piece of the real Spencer through the cloak of sadness he’s been shrouded in for so long now.

“Really? Why?” He tries to sound as casual as possible, but he knows his eagerness to keep him talking is showing. “Isn’t it a tiny country?”

“It’s one of the smallest in Europe, but it was a contested territory for centuries, especially in the Medieval era, so countries would set up fortresses and castles to stake their claim,” he explains despite his weariness, before picking another bit of bhaji off. His face isn’t lighting up with quite the same level of enthusiasm as it used to, but just explaining a bit about his knowledge on some obscure topic is enough for Aaron.

When he doesn’t explain beyond that, Aaron simply smiles and reaches for the food on the coffee table. “Do you want any more?”

“Uhm— some more naan?” Spencer sounds almost shy, and it takes him back to when he first joined the bureau, so shy and unsure of his role in the FBI and the world in general. Aaron had felt that flare of protectiveness from his first day in the department, and it’s only grown stronger over time.

“Sure.” He breaks off another piece of naan and hands it over, and the thankful smile he receives in return feels more gratifying than solving any case ever has. The circumstances might not be ideal, but in that moment it strikes him that he wants to spend every evening for the rest of his life like this, watching something that interests and inspires Spencer while they share a take-away on the couch.

Just days ago the thought would have terrified him. Tonight it’s oddly comforting.

As soon as they’ve finished eating and the documentary’s finished, he leads Spencer into the bathroom and makes sure he’s brushed his teeth and washed his face. “Do you want me to help you with the shower?” he asks tentatively, but Spencer shakes his head. “I’ll wait outside, okay? Call me if you need anything.”

He leans against the hallway wall while he waits, but after ten minutes goes by, he knocks on the door. “Everything okay, Spencer?” He calls out a few more times but left with no reply he pushes the door open and finds Spencer sitting on the floor of the shower, staring motionless at the wall as tears stream down his face. “Oh, sweetheart.” The nickname falls from his lips before he can stop it, but that’s the least of his worries.

As he grabs the clean, fluffy towel from the hook on the back of the bathroom door he finds himself, not for the first time, thanking the heavens for Penelope Garcia. He steps forward and turns the water off, grabbing Spencer’s attention, hushing him as he wraps him gently in the towel and lifts him out of the shower. He sits him on the closed toilet seat and dries him the best he can. It’s not like he’s a trained carer, but he does his best. Only his absolute best for Spencer Reid.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says through his tears, “I can’t stop crying. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, there’s no need to apologise. Let’s focus on getting you ready for bed, okay?” He brushes the tears from Spencer’s cheeks before continuing to dry him off.

When he’s dried and dressed in a clean t-shirt and boxers, he carries him — at Spencer’s very adorable insistence — back to the bedroom, tucking him under the duvet and making sure he’s warm and comfortable before he stands upright.

“Stay,” Spencer whispers, grabbing Aaron’s wrist.

Conflicting emotions wage war with one another in Aaron’s mind as he considers such a request. On one hand, it feels majorly inappropriate, even though he’s not Spencer’s boss anymore. He doesn’t want to take advantage of his vulnerable emotional state and they haven’t had a proper conversation about how they feel. But on the other hand, Spencer’s miserable, and if having someone close to reassure him he’s okay is going to make him feel even the tiniest bit better, then he doesn’t know how to say no.

After all, he promised himself that tonight, he would be whatever Spencer needed.

“Are you sure?”

“Please.” His expression is so sincere and earnest that he can’t help it when he slides under the duvet next to him, a warm body immediately cuddling up next to his own.

9.30 is far too early for him to go to sleep usually, but he finds his eyelids drooping only minutes after Spencer’s breathing evens out. The subtle magic, the heady cocktail of desperation and anticipation mingles deep in his heart as he feels himself drop off to sleep, and it’s far too easy to ignore the screaming voice in his head telling him all the awful ways this could go so terribly wrong. Because maybe, his heart whispers, this could go so gloriously right.

Chapter Seven

If this chapter brought anything up for you, hotlines are in the endnotes of the AO3 version of this fic. Bigger countries are listed and a link is included if you live somewhere else in the world. I love you <3

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban–gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @marvel-ous-m @oliverbrnch @sbeno22 @aaron-hotchner187 @thataveragenerd (add yourself to my taglist here)

[makeste]

Are there any headcanons that you would like to share? About anything you want.

anon in the absence of specific guidelines I have managed to make this post pretty much entirely about Bakugou. I apologize if you really wanted to know all of my headcanons about Kouda or something lol. but all joking aside he really is the character I think about the most and so probably like 80% of my headcanons are about him, including close to 100% of the headcanons I actually have a solid enough grip on to put into words. anyway here goes.

he does not know how to tie a tie. he was a rowdy little free range knee-scraping grass-staining run-don’t-walk child whose parents only ever managed to wrestle him into formal attire a handful of times for special occasions when he was younger, and then he went to a middle school that used gakuran-style uniforms so he never learned then, either. his dad offered to teach him when U.A. rolled around, but he was all, “fuck off dad, I know how to tie a stupid tie,” because by that time he had grown into a cocky little brat confident in his own skill and naive as to the reality checks of the world, and he genuinely believed with the conviction that only a fifteen-year-old can muster that when the time came he would just magically know how to do it. on the first day of school he got as far as draping the loose tie over his neck and holding one end in each hand before staring at the mirror and abruptly realizing the hole he’d dug himself into. and so rather than admit defeat, he just straight up decided not to wear it. which became a permanent life choice once he got to school and saw how badly Deku’s tie was tied and realized there was no way he could ever risk that kind of humiliation.

in a similar vein, I know there’s a popular fanon that because of his parents’ influence Katsuki has a good sense of fashion, but my own personal headcanon is that this could not be further from the truth lol. it’s not that he has a terrible sense of style, mind you; it’s just that he doesn’t care about it at all. he’s a nerdy jock who spends all his free time studying and lifting weights. this kid literally only wears one color, and that color just so happens to be the easiest possible color to coordinate. he owns like three pairs of shoes max. he wears his pants three sizes up and they drag so much that the hems are all frayed from him constantly stepping on them (literally canon, and one of my favorite details from chapter 218). he just doesn’t give a fuck, so long as the clothes are comfortable and don’t look stupid. he has about a million things he’s more concerned about than what he or anyone else is wearing. in fact I’m 90% sure that his mom still buys most of his clothes, and about 70% convinced he does not even know what size he is.

he’s good at household chores (because he’s good at everything), but hates doing them. aside from cooking, which he enjoys, he will bitch and whine nonstop if forced to do tedious-yet-necessary things like washing dishes and folding laundry. that said, he is a perfectionist, and he also has a lot of experience because his mom made him do chores all the time during the seven trillion times he was grounded while growing up (that’s his estimate, btw, so it may be slightly exaggerated. he was not an easy kid to raise. when your kid’s fuse is about a millimeter long and he has a tendency to literally blow up whenever he throws a fit, you end up with a lot of objects in your house that have been replaced at some point), so if you do actually manage to get him to do the chore, rest assured that chore is getting fucking DONE.

when he was very little he watched an Avengers Endgame-style All Might film where a bunch of bad guys attacked earth and various assorted heroes tried and failed to stop them. then at the climax of the film, All Might showed up and said “I am here”, and everyone got super pumped up and excited because they knew the heroes were going to win with All Might on their side. this scene remains Katsuki’s favorite scene in anything. not the fight -- just the moment where All Might shows up and grins and the audience knows right there and then that he’s going to win. this is the feeling that inspired his dream. he wants to be the one who shows up and everyone is like, “we’re good now; Katsuki is here.”

when he was six or seven he got into a big fight with an older boy over that scene because he said it was fake and that there was no way All Might could have beaten those guys in real life. Katsuki insisted he definitely would have because All Might never loses. the other boy replied that everyone loses sometimes. Katsuki kicked his ass and got suspended for a week.

ten years later, Katsuki watched All Might battle All for One at Kamino and realized two things. one, that the other boy was right and that anyone can lose. and two, that he, the one who had so proudly defended All Might back then, was going to end up being the reason why he finally lost.

for a long time afterwards, he couldn’t bring himself to watch that movie again.

when he and Izuku were three years old their moms sent them out on a first errand (google Hajimete no Otsukai if you’re unfamiliar with this tradition, I promise you it is the cutest fucking thing you’ll ever see) to buy ingredients for katsudon. Izuku was full of bouncy childish enthusiasm and could rattle off the full shopping list of ingredients front to back, but when the moment finally came his confidence wilted as soon as their parents were out of sight. Katsuki also had a moment of panic when they first rounded the corner and he couldn’t see his house anymore, but rallied once Izuku burst into tears and he realized that he had to be the one to take charge. he proceeded to morph into an absurdly over-the-top caricature of his own mother for the duration of the errand, to the point where in addition to telling Izuku to stop crying he also ordered him to stand up straight and tuck in his shirt. the two of them went on to complete the errand flawlessly and their moms were PROUD AS FUCK and took a billion pictures. Izuku and Katsuki have only a few scattered memories of this milestone in the present day but it’s enough to send both of them absolutely reeling with embarrassment whenever they’re reminded of it.

he and his mom don’t often get along but sometimes they’ll bond over roasting a mutual target. they have watched many a trashy reality TV show together for this purpose. Masaru lives for these moments but never comments on them lest he spoil the rare moments of peace.

Katsuki is perfectly capable of using keigo (i.e. normal polite Japanese with no rude language/cursing), otherwise he would not be one of the top students in his ivy-league high school. code-switching is a thing guys! anyways his teachers are aware of this, because all of his essays and homework assignments are written normally. he merely chooses to go about his daily business acting like a wannabe yakuza stereotype because that’s just his personality, and he’s not about to start censoring himself and acting like some weird little goody two shoes robot person just to please people he mostly doesn’t give two shits about. but if you put a gun to his head and told him you’d pull the trigger if he said “fuck”, he would probably be all right; he’d just have to concentrate.

when he was little he went through a phase of collecting cicada shells and leaving them EVERYWHERE -- in the bathroom sink, on his mom’s pillow, you name it. Mitsuki often tells people this is when she started getting gray hairs. one time she opened a box of cereal and there was one in there and a little bit of her soul died that day.

he generally doesn’t care who calls him Kacchan. it doesn’t particularly bother him and it never occurred to him to pretend like it did just for appearance’s sake. also secretly for some reason the thought of Deku ever calling him anything else really bothers him. he’s not sure what it would mean if that ever happened, or what he would do.

all of his workouts are designed to strengthen his arms and back and shoulders because those are the parts of his body that take the most abuse from his quirk. other than that he avoids building up excess muscle anywhere else because the more weight he puts on the harder it is to fly around. for this reason he is never going to end up being a big bulky guy like All Might. one day Deku is going to surpass him in muscle, but he doesn’t care because he’ll still be a match for him in firepower and speed.

he’s one of those kids who will not so much as take a sip of alcohol until he’s twenty-five. partly because he’s experienced enough concussions that he doesn’t particularly want to give hangovers a try, and partly because he’s a control freak and honestly afraid of getting drunk and making an idiot of himself somehow. the rowdier members of class A try virtually every trick in their wheelhouse and then some to try and persuade him over the years, but not even the reverse psychology “aw, don’t worry, it’s okay if you’re... scared :)” thing works, because that’s only actually effective when he secretly wants to do the thing.

then one day he just wakes up and is all “you know what, I’m gonna try it”, and for the next few days his google history is basically just “how many drinks does it take to get drunk” and “how to avoid getting drunk” and “how to prevent hangovers.” somehow word gets out through the grapevine (he probably told Todoroki, who is the one person in class A you’d think wouldn’t be a big ol’ gossip but in fact IS) that Bakugou is finally going to get his drink on that weekend, and pretty much EVERYONE shows up at the izakaya that Friday night excited as FUCK.

Katsuki proceeds to drink a grand total of two beers over the span of several hours, and drinks like five glasses of water in between, and literally nothing happens to him at all except that Kaminari almost fights him out of frustration. the rest of class A never fully gets over their disappointment.

he actually knows like 90% of class 1-A’s names by this point. there are still a few people he doesn’t and will never know, though. twenty years from now Aoyama will still be “that weird fucking french kid” in his mind.

he had no idea who Eri was until the Christmas party. sometimes he’d hear the other kids talking about someone named Eri, and from context clues he somehow ended up thinking it was one of Aizawa’s cats. when Eri came to the party he had a brief moment of curiosity wondering if she was Sensei’s niece or something, and then he heard someone say her name and he was all “THAT’S ERI?!” and his entire worldview was briefly shaken up.

he pulled Kirishima aside to ask him and Kirishima basically gave him Eri’s whole entire life story which was way more than he actually wanted to know. he’s now kind of terrified of ever being in the same room as her for fear of having to interact with her because he’s pretty sure he’d do or say the wrong thing. most of the time being intimidating is something he strives for and puts a lot of effort into, including when he’s around kids (who are basically just smaller, sloppier adults in his mind), but he doesn’t want to be the guy who scared an abused kid, so he basically just hopes the others will have enough common sense not to ever go “oh hey you know who should totally interact with each other?? Eri and Bakugou!”

that being said, if circumstances ever arose which forced Katsuki to protect Eri, the two of them would totally bond and they would have a really sweet relationship in which Eri looked up to him just like she looks up to Deku and Mirio and the rest, and where Katsuki was constantly trying to be on his best behavior around her, like genuinely, sincerely trying, and kind of failing at it a lot but still being sweet in a gruff sort of restrained-disaster way.

...and after sitting there for a while trying to think of more I couldn’t come up with any so I guess that’s it! basically most of my headcanons are about how secretly boring Katsuki is. honestly if it weren’t for him having the vocabulary of a 52-year-old sailor whose foot was caught in a bear trap, he and Iida would probably be best friends.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Happy Birthday, Lucifer~!

(( This is a little one shot to celebrate Lucifer’s birthday, that is based on today’s event, but with some...More personalising to it!

Also, Lucifer’s smile, like Satan’s, looks like a kittens, and it kills my heart <3 ))

Diavolo gathered us in the big hall, the same place as when I was brought to the Devildom to this exchange student program, which is when the Devil Prince, holding the same type of mischievous glint in his eyes as usual, grinned widely at us, telling us that the reason for gathering here was Lucifer’s birthday the next day, and his wish to throw him a party.

Unfortunately, it seemed like some of his brothers completely forgot about his birthday...

But it was much worse that Lucifer was so busy that he may or may not forget his own birthday.

“Hey, Diavolo, why don’t we throw him a surprise party? Nothing necessarily big, just...Something with us, the people closest to him. I think he would appreciate it.” I suggest, making the man gleam with happiness. “I like that. It’ll make his heart jump out of his chest.” Diavolo grinned at me. “That settles it. We will throw Lucifer a surprise birthday party.” Barbatos chimed in simply.

Hearing about the surprise party, everyone was on board, wanting to have fun, so we decided to make it happen in the House of Lamentation and divide all our tasks.

Beel and Asmo were in charge of decorations, Barbatos, Satan and Belphie were I charge of the food, Diavolo would oversee everyone’s preparations, I was supposed to distract Lucifer for the whole day, as Asmo was to help me with a plan, and uhm...

Mammon and Levi were...Uhm...

Reporting back to the party back at home...Or something?

I don’t know, but I guess stalking would be the right job for two lazy guys.

And so, I go around the place looking for the man in cause, and I finally manage to find him at his own room, hunched over the desk, looking absolutely exhausted.

“Lucifer...Are you alright...?” I sighed, putting my arms around his neck from behind. “Nothing new, just a tremendous amount of work during this time of the year.” he replied, almost robotically. “I see...Well...Would you want to go out with me tomorrow? Maybe it will help you relax a bit. I’m exhausted only looking at you, to be fair.” I suggest in a softer tone. “Tomorrow...? I’ve finished up my work for the student council, so I can afford to take a break, but...Why so sudden?...Don’t tell me...You’re up to something again.” he turned to look at me with a suspicious frown. “No...Nothing of the sort. Looking at you like that makes me believe that a change of pace would help you relax a bit. You’re overworking yourself without realising...Even Diavolo is concerned. And besides, what’s the harm in going out, right?” I smiled at him, taking his hand in mine, squeezing it gently. “It seems you knew that I’ve been quite busy lately. Well? Do you have a specific destination in mind? Wait, no, don’t tell me, I shall know when we go. It is best to save the excitement for later.” Lucifer chuckled lightly. “I hope you’ll enjoy what I have in mind. I-I mean, it’s nothing too big, just something nice and casual, with the purpose of charging up your batteries.” I grin at him, and he offers me a smile...A smile that looks like that of a kitten’s. “Heh. You seem rather confident in your choices. Thank you for thinking about my well being. Now then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” he nodded at me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lucifer...Please take care of yourself.” I waved at him, leaving for my room.

On my way to the room, I met up with the stalker duo...And it was, uh...As interesting as always.

“Y/N, you alright?!” Mammon cried out loudly. “Well, duh. Lucifer would never hurt Y/N.” Levi spoke as a matter of fact. “Yes, exactly. Except for the 2 or 3 times when he almost killed me.” I chuckled lightly, shuddering internally at the experiences. “But maybe he already found out about what’s goin’ on! Y/N might’ve blurted out somethin’ about the surprise tomorrow.” Mammon tried to play off his concerns. “Y/N isn’t an airhead like you, Mammon. So, how did it go, Y/N? Mission accomplished?” Levi quickly dismissed his brother. “Well, of course I succeeded. And he was pretty happy about it.” I smiled softly, hoping I wasn’t blushing. “THAT Lucifer?! He didn’t even doubt ya, but was happy?! He’ll only act like that when it comes to you, Y/N...” they continued to talk, but I went to my room to sleep and think over everything that was supposed to happen tomorrow.

The next day I take a quick bath, and curl my long hair in some nice, graceful curls, nothing too fancy, but not too casual either, and with some nice day-make up, and a nice outfit, I go to knock on Lucifer’s room, knocking, and asking if he’s ready.

“Are you ready, Lucifer?” I asked, smiling sweetly at him. “I am, although, I believe this dynamic we are having should be the other way around.” he hummed, as we walked out of the place. “How about you take me on a date next time you feel burnt out from overworking yourself, which won’t be too long, if you ask me. Maybe it would help you relax a bit?” I walk closer to him, as the lights from the busy street shops were illuminating cheerfully. “I can’t say I disagree...Oh, I see. A movie theater. What movie are we going to see?” he asked, smirking as he realised we were approaching said place. “There’s this movie that had a pretty neat name...The Fiery Depths of Hell. I think it’s a horror movie? But I’m not sure what HORROR would be for demons.” I laughed at my words, and it seemed to amuse him as well. “Hopefully scarier than what you humans create. I see it has a pretty fine cast. It has been a long time since I last saw a movie. Two tickets, please.”  he walked ahead of me to the ticket booth, making my eyes go wide with surprise. “W-Wait, hold up....!” I hurried to his side, as he only put his arm around me, guiding me inside with a knowing smirk. “What is it? I already paid for the tickets, let’s go. Is it your first time in this place?” he asked, as we got in front of the snacks booth. “Yep. Asmo and Satan told me they go pretty often here and that this place is really pretty, so I thought it’d be a nice to bring you here...Although I’m pretty sure this experience won’t be as...Special, since it’s not the first time you’re here.” I scratched the back of my neck sheepishly, looking away with a small smile. “Nonsense. The person with whom I am with is what makes this special. Are you ready here? Let’s find our seats.” he spoke, making my cheeks get a tint pinker. “Haha...I never realised how much of a smooth charmer you can be.”  I cover my mouth for a few seconds in embarrassment, as he only hummed in amusement, sitting in his seat, and we waited for the movie to start. “There’s nothing better than watching a movie with flame-scorched popcorn and sparkling fresh bloody soda.” he leaned back in his seat, a look of relaxation washing over his face. “Flame-scorched...Let me guess, is that spicy popcorn? I’ve never heard of that in my world. And bloody soda...Is that like wine?” I asked, turning to him, leaning on the arm rest. “Why don’t you have a taste?” he smirked mischievously, putting his hand on my cheek, making me open my mouth, as he put a bit of popcorn on my tongue. “What do you think?” he chuckled lowly, seeing my red cheeks. “It’s not bad...I was expecting it to be much hotte...OH MY GOODNESS, THIS IS HORRIBLE, I NEED SOME WATER ASAP!” in the next second, I could feel myself being set on fire, that’s how horribly spicy the popcorn was. “That was entertaining.” he laughed mirthfully, handing me a bottle of fresh, ice-cold water. “You’re enjoying it, aren’t you?” I spoke weakly, a pout on my face after finishing the water bottle in one go. “You got this water knowing this would happen, didn’t you?” “I was merely curious to see how bad it affected a human, and needless to say, I am rather pleased with the results. Your assumption is correct as well...I can’t say that I’m not enticed by the cute face you are making right now, especially with the tears glistering in your eyes.” he teased, taking the handkerchief from his pocket and wiping them away, as he caressed my face gently. “I hope you’re bloody extasic, you truly gave me a HELLISH experience.” I chuckled, amused by this as well. “That was a pretty witty prank, I have to admit. I’d have died of laughter, if anyone else was the victim.” “I shall take that as a compliment. If you’ve managed to calm down, let’s see what you’re having. Hell Black Honey Popcorn. Looks rather sweet, let me have a taste.” he extended his hand towards my popcorn bag, only to have me slap it away, giggling playfully. “Let me return the favour. At least I’m sure there’s no harm going your way.” I said, feeding him, which made him blush slightly as well from the intimacy. “Hmm...It’s so sweet that I’m getting a sugar overload. Even so, it’s quite addicting. You made a sound choice, it suits you.” he chuckled, a smirk on his face, as the light went out and the movie began.

During the movie, there were a few commotions, and I could only guess it was the idiotic duo...But this mess continued even when we left the theater and we were walking slowly, almost aimlessly. I could only flinch slightly from time to time and peer behind my shoulder, hoping that Lucifer wouldn’t catch on.

But I was wrong, he’s the most perceptive demon I know, next to Diavolo, Goddamn those two idiots.

“Why do you continue to peer over the shoulder?” he asked in confusion. “Oh, s-sorry, I hope it didn’t annoy you. I, uh...Kinda got the chills. No big deal, really.” I played it off quickly. “Do you have a cold? You should take better care of yourself.” he spoke with a slight frown on his face. “...Should you really be the one to tell me that?” I chuckled, looking up at him with a coy smile. “Touche, Y/N. Regardless, it’s been a long time since I last saw a movie. Did you enjoy it?” he asked with a bright smile on his face, as he took off the coat from his shoulders and put it over mine. “L-Lucifer, you don’t have to-” I protested, only for him to put his arm around me, putting me to his side, to silence me, under the pretext that the streets are overcrowded and he doesn’t want us to get separated. “W-Well, it was a really nice movie. Usually, I watch horror movies to get some laughs, but this actually had a pretty interesting plot.” I offered him my insight, as he only nodded. “Indeed. The background info you offered me was useful. You’ll have to tell me more about it.” he spoke, obviously trying to make conversation. “Sure, I’d love that. The symbolism from this movie was really something else, and -” I began to explain some of the film ideas, only to get interrupted by a pitched voice. “Wh-Wh-Wh-What are you two doing here?! A-And you’re...You’re so close! L-Like you’re c-c-cuddling!” Luke’s shocked voice echoed through the street. “We’re on a date. Is there a problem?” Lucifer’s voice was low, velvety, showing off the smugness. “Huh?! A d-date?!” the kid gaped at us, his pale face getting pinker than roses. “I-I guess that’s how it is.” I hummed, feeling my heart beat a bit faster hearing him say that. “Is that really how it is?!” Luke stared, still unbelieving. “Enough with the questions, Chihuahua.” Lucifer sighed, bored and irked at the interruption. “How many times do I have to tell you?! I’m NOT a Chihuahua!” he yelled at the demon who towered over him. “Sure. You only act like one.” I shared a playful look to Lucifer, giggling in amusement. “Oh, I thought I heard a commotion over here. Hey, Lucifer, Y/N!” Simeon’s graceful smile came in the picture. “Oh good, the Chihuahua’s owner is here.” Lucifer’s taunting words rung again, making me try to stifle my laughter. “I told you I’m not a Chihuahua!” Luke shrieked even louder. “What a coincidence, meeting you two here! Oh, that’s right, today is Lucifer’s-” Simeon began, which made me widen my eyes and try to talk over him. “Day off. Yes, today is Lucifer’s day off. I told Simeon that I’m taking you out for today, and if he needed to talk to you, to just call me or come by the next day.” I tried to explain, so the angels would get what I’m trying to do. “How thoughtful of you, Y/N, but you needn’t worry yourself over me that much.” he shook his head in disdain. “Luke, I just remembered we have something very urgent to attend to, so we must be on our way. It was nice seeing you, Lucifer, Y/N!” Simeon tried to walk away, only to have Luke look at him with confusion. “We had something urgent to do today?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, truly like a puppy. “Yes, Luke, we have something very, VERY urgent to do, remember?” the man urged on, a bit stronger. “O-Oh, yeah! Uhh, we’re very busy! See you later, Y/N, Lucifer!” Luke started running away. “Uhm...Do they always behave so...Uhmm...Weird?” I asked, biting my lip, fearing for the plan’s success. “What on earth is wrong with those two?” he shook his head in disbelief, then looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve been checking the time rather frequently. Something is going on, isn’t there? You have been acting strange since yesterday. When do you plan on telling me the reason?” he started his suspicious interrogation, and I started worrying. “What do you mean, Lucifer? You know I always have my phone in my hand, don’t you? It’s a pretty bad habit of mine, but that’s just how it is. And besides, is wanting to spend time alone with you that strange?” I looked at him with mock hurt. “Do you still insist on playing games? You’ve got a lot of nerve. I never knew you were so stubborn...I didn’t want to ruin today’s plans, so I pretended not to notice until now...Come out, you two!” Lucifer, after glaring at me, used his magic to pull the 1-Braincell Duo to us, and they were sent flying and screaming  our way. “Ouch! What was that for, Lucifer?! Using your magic to drag us out is unfair, doncha think?” Mammon complained, only to have his elder brother yell at him, and him to squeak in fear like a little mouse. “Th-This ain’t what it looks like! Calm down, Lucifer!” he tried to reason. “Lucifer’s rage has taken shape! What will become of Mammon?” Levi blushed as he was...Vlogging...? “Dammit, Levi! Enough with the commentary!” Mammon started fighting with him. “I can’t deprive my subscribes from such a juicy scene.” Levi chuckled carelessly. “You want to interrupt us that badly, huh? Mammon, Levi.” Lucifer glared at them as if staring into their souls. “Eeek! O-Of course not! This is all for your birthday...ARGHH!” Mammon gasped as Levi’s tailed came flying and slammed him on the pavement. “You stupid big mouth!” he glared at the white haired man, as I could only stare in disbelief. “So that’s what you were planning, isn’t it? Some kind of birthday prank? You knew I was prone to forgetting about it, because of my overworked schedule, and you took advantage of it. All three of you.” Lucifer started growling in anger. “God DAMN it, you, stupid MAMMON! This is why EVERYONE tell you you’re a complete MORON! I’m DONE with taking your side, you’re just a big, obsolete, incurable, hopeless, scummy fucking I D I O T ! Once! Just freaking ONCE! Did I EVER ask you to just keep your STUPID mouth SHUT, and what do you do? Get yourself in THESE kinds of situations and you manage to spill EVERYTHING!” I screamed at the idiot who was in pain on the ground, which made the eldest brother widen his eyes in realisation. “Great job, Mammon, you made the calmest person alive angry. That’s something only you would be capable of doing.” Levi glared, sighing in equal anger. “...Why is Y/N scarier than Lucifer when angry?” Mammon squealed in fear. “So this wasn’t supposed to be some kind of elaborate prank on me?” Lucifer asked in a softer voice. “No, goddamn it! I was trying to make you a birthday surprise, but it’s all ruined, thanks to this dumbass. Gahh, whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore. Whatever, what’s done is done, I’m leaving. Good luck with the rest of the plan. Bye.” I gave Lucifer back his coat, rushing away from that place, trying to calm down and find a nice place to be alone.

Eventually, I found a nice, very big fountain, and surprisingly, the water falling down was the more calming thing in the world and exactly what I needed.  Not to mention the beautiful lights and colours of the water, the statues, the garden and everything around.

All that was missing was some music and a person to stay with.

Sighing, I climb up on top of the block around the fountain, laying down and staring up at the starry sky.

I put the ringing D.D.D. on silent, then took out my own phone and put on my earphones, listening to some blues music, and stared at the twinkling stars.

I didn’t realise for how long was I there, until someone took off one of the earbuds, making me squeak in fright and jump in a sitting position, my phone flying down, from my torso.

“My, my, who knew you’d get scared so easily.” he hummed in amusement, but then his face went more serious, seeing me sighing. “Levi told me everything.” “Why are you here...? You should be home, the others are waiting for you. They worked very hard for the party to be done, and Asmo especially was the most excited about it. Not to mention, Diavolo will be there...Can’t make him wait, can we.” I shifted my gaze towards the falling water once again. “Can’t have a party without you. I told you today, it’s about the company, not the place or occasion.” he leaned on the block that I was sitting on. “I just...Wanted you to be happy, at least on your birthday. You always stress yourself so much for every little detail, and you carry everyone’s burden’s...I thought you could use a distraction from your daily routine.” I hugged my legs to my chest, resting my chin on my knees. “And I am thankful for that. I am aware that everything we’ve done today was genuine. I appreciate all the effort you went through to make this day great for me.” he reassured me gently. “You’re just being nice...Honestly, I just...I can’t believe I got so angry...I didn’t mean to be so harsh on Mammon, but...But I can’t stand when people ruin my plans, especially those that I am incredibly invested in.” I raked my fingers through my hair, making him chuckle. “I tend to say that rather often.” he smiled in amusement. “How come you went here?” “...I had no place in mind. My feet took me here...I’m surprised, but happy. This place is very...Relaxing.” I lay back down on the block, looking at the stars, then rolling to face Lucifer. “Do you ever...Allow yourself some time for yourself? Just to watch the sky and admire the stars and moon? To listen to the sound of the running water...And just...Vibe?” I asked him, extending my hands towards him. “I suppose I don’t. Perhaps I should start taking your advice.” with a playful smile, he hopped on the block and laid down next to me, holding my hand while at it, as a comfortable silence took over us. “...How are you feeling?” I asked, barely above a whisper. “I can understand why you would recommend doing this. It is truly relaxing.” turning my head to the side slightly, I could see a soft smile on his face, which made my heart pound faster. “You know...Some time ago, I and my best friend would go to the fountain in our University dorms’ campus. It was kinda like this, but without the fancy lights and colours. But...There were some speakers that would play romantic songs. During summer, when we were in our exam session, we would go out past midnight, when nobody would bother or see us...And...We’d take our shoes off and start fooling around in the water. It was ice cold, but outside was hot, and it was refreshing. We would dance together, jump around, splash water on each other...Sometimes I really miss that.” I grinned in amusement at the nostalgic memory. “Would you want to recreate that?” he asked, making me get in a sitting position and look at him with shock, before taking out my phone and putting a playlist of the most romantic human songs. “What are we waiting for, then?” with a huge smile on my face, I quickly take off my shoes, put the socks in them, and jump in the fountain, squealing a bit at how cold it was. “Careful, it’s very cold.” “I see you are enjoying yourself. Don’t mind if I join in.” he chuckled in amusement, taking off his shoes as well, ready to hop off the block, only to have me stop him. “Silly, lift your trousers. It would get pretty uncomfortable to have the bottom part of your legs wet, huh?” I chuckle, rolling the hems of the legs of the pants enough so they won’t get wet, then grabbed his wrist, dragging him into the fountain pond. “How do you feel doing something improper?” I laughed with glee, as he shivered at the cold water. “It’s...Definitely not something I am used to.” he chuckled softly, as he pulled me to his chest.

There were no more words being spoken, and there was nobody else to watch or judge us, except for the Silver Moon lending us her light as we swayed and danced around in the cold water, as if nether of us ever had any problem or worry in the world.

It seemed like the whole world disappeared, only the two of us, pressed together, as our emotions were overflowing, and the next thing I know, we both leaned in to share a soft kiss, filled with so much love and tenderness, almost afraid as if this was a mere fairy tale and this scene was going to disappear, like a dream.

“Are you happy, Lucifer?” I asked in a voice barely above a whisper, resting my chin on his chest, looking up at him with a starstruck expression on my face. “Yes, I am. Thanks to you, Y/N. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me.” Lucifer’s face was relaxed, calm, soft, like nobody has ever seen him before. “...Did I ever tell you that you’re the most gorgeous being in the world?” my smile grew wider as he widened his eyes and his cheeks started reddening in embarrassment. “You’re a human, that’s not many beings you’ve seen in your short lifespan.” he teased, evading the subject, which only made me chuckle. “Shut up and take a compliment, silly.” I slapped his shoulder, looking away to laugh.

Our lovely moment was interrupted by his D.D.D. ringing, and it was a cue that we should return home for his party, despite the surprise being ruined.

We sat on the fountain’s pond rim to get out shoes back on, but Lucifer decided to be Prince Charming and kneeled in front of me, putting on my shoes as if I was Cinderella, which only made me look down, bashful, earning a low chuckle from him.

As soon as we got in front of the House of Lamentation, Lucifer opened the door, and as soon as he stepped in, confetti and party trumpets were all over the place, which in all actuality seemed to shock him., while everyone was shouting their happy birthday wishes to him.

“I was so focused on what happened today that I completely forgot about this. Thank you, everyone.” Lucifer made that kitten smile again, which only made me fawn over him. “First, he forgets his birthday, and now, judging by his face, he forgot even about this not-so-surprising party. It’s just like you predicted, My Lord.” Barbatos smiled calmly at Diavolo. “It’s been 500 years since I’ve seen Lucifer look so surprised.” the Prince grinned warmly. “Of course I’m surprised. The entrance hall is...Full of flowers and decorations. It doesn’t even look like the House of Lamentation.” Lucifer chuckled, looking around the place. “Yeeeeees! I came up with the idea and Beel helped me put up the decorations!” Asmo chirped brightly. “I...can’t wait...Any longer...” Beel groaned, starving. “Hey, Beel! Stop drooling on my head!” Levi whined in annoyance “Guys...Where is Mammon? I have to apologise for lashing out at him.” I scratch the back of my neck sheepishly. “Mammon is hiding inside that giant decoration over there.” Satan betrayed his location with no second to spare. “Gahh! Satan, you traitor...!” Mammon slowly left his hiding spot, as I and Lucifer shared an amused look. “Mammon.....!.....One second thought, today’s a special occasion so I’ll forgive you for running your mouth like that. Also, Y/N is sorry for being too harsh on you.” he chuckled, looking softly at his younger brother. “Big broooooo! Y/NNNNNN!” Mammon gleamed with absolute happiness hearing that.

We took the party to the dining place, where we toasted in Lucifer’s honour, and we found out about the funny situation between Beel and the poor trio assigned to the food.

“So, if Asmo and Beel were in charged of the decorations...And Satan, Belphie and Barbatos were in charge of the food...Were Mammon and Levi designated to get in my way?” Lucifer raised his eyebrow in curiosity. “The Single-Braincell Stalker Duo was supposed to be on Watch Duty...Or something like that.” I shrugged, chuckling at how silly that sounded. “They were rather noticeable.” the man sighed, shaking his head. “I was there to make sure Mammon didn’t screw up.” Levi defended himself. “See how well that worked out.” I sighed in mock-annoyance. “You were desperate to tag along so you could do live coverage of your stupid mission!” Mammon revealed Levi’s true intentions. “It’s a personal rule of mine to not live in the past.” Levi chuckled, brushing that aside.

After that, Diavolo made everyone give Lucifer their gift and a heartfelt birthday wish, and as expected, everything was very silly, awkward and funny, which only made it better.

Grinning, I take out a little dark blue gift box patterned with silvery stars and that has a silver bow, and handed it to the birthday boy, urging him to open it.

“Happy Birthday, Lucifer. I thought it would be cute...When I saw this Cerberus necklace, I just had to get it for you. Well...For the both of us.” my cheeks were sent ablaze as I took out the necklace from under my top, as soon as he opened the gift box. “Well, isn’t that adorable. Thank you, Y/N. Now I’ll think of you whenever I see it...And you shall do the same with me.” Lucifer leaned down to plant a lingering kiss on my forehead, expressing his gratitude, while everyone gasped at the action. “I’m glad I can finally see your smiling face.” Diavolo spoke in a softer, yet definitely gleeful voice. “I am very happy.” Lucifer’s kitten smile appeared on his face again. “I’m so glad that we met.” I muttered, gazing at him with infinite love. “As am I, Y/N. I will forever be grateful to Fate for making me choose you as the exchange student. Also, I appreciate the effort you all have to put this together. This will be remembered as my greatest birthday. You all have my gratitude...Cheers!” 

And with that, Lucifer raised his champagne glass to toast once again, and we all joined in, having a great time for the rest of the night.

[sazzafraz]

ects snippet one

I don’t see this bit changing a lot so its spoiler freeeeeee

He thinks of acid and bile first. His tongue is on the points of his teeth searching for the stale carrot taste. Dead bodies in a lake almost make him hungry. Like soup, Kyuubi says, now, should add some salt. Naruto thinks of their families and draws from Konoha shinobi standard what he should do next. The Uchiha graves are the only ones he’s seen up close. Found and burned away by his Sasuke years ago, not yet warded against yin spirits. Those small piles had been lumped together too close to the houses at first and then reburied in a Konoha approved location when Sasuke became Konoha’s only Private Citizen. Now they’re done by matrilineal lines and decorated with Uzumaki shells and ribbons from Lightning. When Naruto was asked, allowed, to come Sasuke had him press strawberry seedlings into the ground. Sasuke had been messily eating from a different bowl and had pulp smeared across his mouth and jaw. Then, Naruto had wondered if he was allowed to sweep them away with his tongue, if people did that sort of thing in graveyards. Now Naruto knows that the dead do not appreciate love or lust.

People soup. Naruto counts twice and draws a grid on the shallow shore with his foot. 

Monkey Leader is inattentive to Naruto’s actions. He sits between them and their merchants keeping his gaze on the horses. Only one of them likes Naruto. A chestnut mare with a band of white around her mouth and eyes that make her seem mean -she’s downplaying exactly how vicious she is, but she likes him, and that's more than he was expecting. Naruto pulls the body into the grid and starts with the teeth. Pulls back molars for the guys in T&I. The skin sloughs off the dead man's face, puddles down into his wet clothes. Naruto burns it off with Kyuubi’s power, excellent as always for getting rid of evidence. Molars should be enough.

He has a sort of frustrated passion about this. See, Naruto knows intellectually that this has to be done, is done regardless, because you can’t have dead bodies in waterways. They bloat and rot and make people sick. The kind of sick that people like Giri come to fix and then leverage into destabilising the entirety of the Elemental Nations. Naruto also knows that a missing tooth is a decent price for the families of these poor dead to get closure. The third, worst thing Naruto knows is that things come to see dead bodies, things like him. Ninja like him. Spirits like him. Sons of Oceans and Mountains and tall white pillars to the underworld, like him. None of them, really, should be looking at these dead bodies. 

Six teeth. Naruto eyes a leaf moving out of sequence with the wind. Tanuki, an earth specialist.  Tanuki nods and quiet as a mouse the bodies sink into the shore.

--

Sunagakure welcomes them and their trophies at dawn. They sneak in over the sand tide-line two to a row before even the most thrifty merchant has set their wares. Gaara’s office will not be officially open for another three hours, not even his Twilight Guard will accept a visitor now. So Naruto does what he does, cracks his back and makes a loud exclamation about finding a place to sleep. Monkey Leader sets them on a course through Suna’s cruisy districts and around the intelligence quarter. The Konoha away barracks are part of their recent trade deal. A cushy thing on their end and Naruto knows where his room is. After the Summit, before the War, Naruto quietly moved all the things he previously left in Gaara’s spare bedroom to a Jounin room with an ensuite. This room is at the end of the hall with no windows, nothing in or out. A dead end. Monkey Leader espys him but does not comment. 

In the room Naruto turns off the radio left playing on the dresser. His old book lies with its spine cracked, a pair of pants he left to wash last time crumpled on the bed. His single pillow looks lonely. Someone has been in since he was here last, the footprints in the thick carpet aren’t his own. Following this probably-not-a-stranger he sees that his personals have been restocked in the bathroom, laid on the rim of the strange standing bathtub. The grates have been cleaned. Naruto runs a bath and dumps a satchel with Sakura’s clean, neat writing into the water. A small bag sits next to it and he recalls a short conversation at dinner some nights ago. Sasuke and Kakashi had been having one of their weird bonding moments over Naka rocks. Kakashi would run his bandaged fingers over them looking for some indefinable flaw. Sasuke would say that’s not the point and hand him another. He and Sakura watch this for a few minutes, giggling into their beers. Sakura had just shaved her hair down again and the elfin lines of her face were so perfect he’d had trouble not telling her so. 

“Naruto,” Sasuke says in his low clear voice, “what are you thinking about?”

“Sakura’s pretty,” he blurts out. Sakura lowers her eyelashes for a moment, laughing.

“Yes.” Sasuke agrees. “But what are you thinking?”

“‘Bout rocks?” Naruto shifts his gaze carefully. He’s bowled over often by how much he loves looking at Sasuke. If he does it too fast the soft pink of his mouth and thin scar that meets his ear makes him drool. “Dunno, that one.” He picks one from the pile and holds it triumphant.

“Idiot,” Sakura says. She too picks a rock. “Momentos? Right?” 

Sasuke flushes from his heart upwards, making the pink of his lips plush. Sakura keeps her rock, eventually Kakashi meets his proteges standards and departs with his own. Naruto pockets his but forgets it in the wash. Here it is again in Sunagakure with Sasuke’s hair ribbon around it. 

In reality Naruto does not now nor has he ever had momentos. He has moments and memories aplenty. Long, too long sketches of Konoha night in the main thoroughfare in the early morning. The drift and drag of everyone's footsteps lying in the dirt, on the street, leading to the houses they share with people that want them there. Swing sets. Shrine steps. Stoops. All of them empty, at least when he’s there. A city is a lonely place in his experience. 

Things are better now. He has Sasuke, when they aren’t fighting. Sakura, when she’s capable of acting without compromise. Kakashi, when he isn’t fighting a cold war alone. His other friends, when time allows. Allowance is better too. Assured at the very least. 

Compromise is a word he knows now. A strange little door into the way life actually works. 

See, Naruto’s first idea of how things work is formed at 4pm, 2am on weekdays and 7-11am on Saturdays. There’s a little alcove outside one of the curving windows of Konoha’s Library, high above the main hall near one of the old study nooks not even ANBU use. On rainy days the water sloshes off the side. On sunny days the heat only touches the edges. There is enough room for a boy to escape with a little apple and the free water from the front desk. The window is permanently cracked open to let out the musty air. When Konoha’s long hot days and nights were too much for even the most dogged badgering Naruto would skin himself raw heaving his body into it. A radio plays all day in the library, old records and ads for toilet paper. Like everyone else Naruto drowns out the patriot tunes and concentrates on the old radio head that chooses which stories play at the end of the school day. Hashirama and the Seven Headed Snake, Subaru and the Stolen Sword, Himawari Sunrise, Nariko Ascending. He’s heard them all at some point, drifted away to the tales of heroes and Hokages. 

Naruto’s met Hashirama now and he’s a whole different deal. Tsunade makes more sense when you know that that was her first idea of a hero. 

In The Seven Headed Snake Hashirama does not speak. He does wield a sword of redwood through the thick neck of a serpent so big it blots the sky. His heroism is in his quiet dutiful battle. The way the man telling the story describes his strong back and long hair. That’s your back, he says. That’s Konoha’s back. It sounds so absurd, even to a child training to be a ninja: cut through the sky, mold the earth, call forth life to do your bidding alone. The snake’s carcass, the narrator informs them, is as long as the Naka river, and buried somewhere near the big swell the Uchiha worship. On dark nights its eyes watch the village, warily, for Hashirama’s redwoods stand sentinel. Not even in death can he be escaped. 

People don’t let things like Naruto in their houses. This he knows before he can speak. There is something in him people don't want on their doorsteps. Later he knows it's the Kyuubi. After that he knows that it’s the Uzamaki blood. Even later, when he came home from a war that crushed out the light he thought he could carry anywhere, he knew it was simple mortal fear. Something inside Naruto will never die, and anything more mortal than him knows that. Well, except Sasuke. 

In the warm bath water he caresses his leg, not letting it go any further. Far from home he misses his love. There’s an edge in Naruto, sharp as his chipped tooth, that’s only soothed by long dark hair and a softening body. Naruto leans up to look at the scents and staples Gaara’s left in his room. Sweet aloe and greens. Salt and fresh made sand. He thinks of Sasuke’s skin and Sasuke’s soft smile and how he cuddles close to warmth. Naruto’s had grim reason to be grateful for how hot he runs, this last winter when Sasuke’s feud with their electricity provider cut their power mid cold-snap he’s had happier, hornier reasons to be joyful.

Sasuke has a vicious glee about domesticity that is deeply adorable. He loves arguing with the cashier about his coupons and going to PTA meetings and making trendy sandwiches. He does it with a soft violence that Naruto absolutely does not relate to but finds charming. Never has a man wanted for mass murder been so invested in a collect-a-coin newspaper competition. He plays music and cooks food. He goes to town halls and puts up with the mean crooked smile in their fruit vendors eyes. Naruto loves him so much when he makes noise. Naruto loves him more when it’s quiet at home. Naruto loves when Sasuke will talk to him about things he cares for: plants, dumplings, people. Here, far away from his love, Naruto loves that he doesn’t have to lie to him.  

Naruto drags his hand up to his stomach and uncorks the bath. The soft slush of water is the last noise in the room.

[candicewright]

Hello Candice, it might not be the right time and place to vent my opinion in, since it mainly includes twt and ytb and might cause some controversy, but you are very reasonable person and won’t slam me so I’ll just do it. I am both XZ and WYB fan. I am not an yizhan shipper yet the majority of accounts I follow are bjyx related. Why? I cannot stand most of the solo stans. The last straw for me was today’s announcement of USXiaoZhanFans🇺🇸 twitter account and all the comments below. If you want to spend the rest of the evening peacefully, do not look it up. So there is this thing... Whether you are just XZ’s fan or WYB’s fan you will occasionally come across a content that involves both of them. And that is alright, isn’t it? Since CQL has been such a huge success, and let’s be honest ~ XZ hit a jackpot with his popularity especially thanks to his outstanding acting in the said drama, it should be all well. Yet, especially XFX, are trying to either wash XZ’s part in filming CQL or wash WYB’s existence in general. They would mention almost everyone XZ has ever associated with except for WYB, claiming there are just protecting him. But are they really? Isn’t it partly their fault XZ and WYB can’t publicly interact anymore? If XZ sees his fans disliking WYB’s presence around him, what will he logically do then? And I am not even talking about those XFX slamming WYB. Before anyone can come at me for complaining just about XFX, I would like to say I did a big research on things, watched tones of toxic solo videos and content, stuff involving the 227 incident, not because I like to torture myself, but because I wanted to make my own opinion. The funny part is that I have seen just minority of MTJJ talking badly about XZ but I have seen tons of XFX slamming WYB, acusing him of not supporting XZ or even participating in the 227 incident. Of course, this might be different on various platforms, especially on weibo, but I just find this very interesting. I immediatelly dismiss all the people blaiming WYB for taking part in the 227 incident. There is no point in interacting with them because what would he achieve by that? I’m not blind, I know WYB has valued his friendship with XZ over everything else. If you don’t see it from their interviews, and choose to ignore it from the bts clips (because if they didn’t like each other they wouldn’t have interacted at all; it’s not like they were forced to do so) then you are just a big idiot. As for people slamming WYB for not supporting XZ after the hate.. Well, is that even a question? First of all, I doubt that XZ, as WYB’s senior, would like him to suffer as well. Second of all, wouldn’t it make it even worse? Third of all, silence is better than bullshit. I believe that they supported each other privately. I’ve been a long time k-pop fan so this silent treatment is nothing new for me (as some of the k-pop idols get slammed for even more ridiculous things). XFX blaiming WYB for not being dragged down by the incident as well (yeah, you see this right) are just on another level. Did he really not suffer? Didn’t he loose his good friend...? “Why the antis attacked just XZ, not WYB?” Maybe because WYB has already gone throught this and got stronger and wouldn’t keep up with their bullshit at all? It was only logical thing to tear XZ down as his popularity was insanely increasing and in the antis eyes he was the weaker prey. (Don’t get me wrong here. I am not saying XZ is a weak person, I am just stating the fact that WYB has already gone throught this and is more experienced.) .... I could go on and on but I choose not to do it. The main point of submiting this wasn’t just to “vent my anger,” but mainly to thank you guys. As I said before even though I don’t ship them I have never seen more love and understanding than here. I can clearly see you care for both of them, without being biased, and that’s what I want, what I was looking for. And how do I deal with stuff I don’t like to see or don’t feel comfortable with on bjyx blogs? I simply skip it, ignore it. 😊 It’s not that hard😊🖤 TY

Hey! It's absolutely okay to vent here. In fact, I encourage it💜 I completely understand your frustration. If I was in your shoes, I feel like I too would follow bjyx blogs because I've seen way too many toxic solos trying to bring each other's idol down. There are some really sweet solo fans though! I could name many here on tumblr and they are a delight to talk to.

I didn't have to look up that drama because it popped up on my Twitter tl. I'm glad they made that statement and the QRTs and replies are just a free block list. But yes, it's disheartening to see so much hate in fandoms that would be so much better together.

I agree that wyb had nothing to do with 2//27 and it always makes me sad to see people saying that they wish he had done more because he probably wishes so himself. But yes, It would have just made things worse if he had, and I think it's obvious that he gave xz his support privately.

I am glad that you can find a comfortable place here! We really do love them both and you can always ignore our screaming and CPN if you need to lol😂 I wish you all the best, anon💜

[chenziee]

Leaves and Pumpkin Spice

[Read on AO3 or under the cut]

Super late entry for @lawlu-week‘s 10 Days of Lawlu Day 7: Falling Leaves Sorry for that, life became a real bitch right after the event ended :(

Ship: Law/Luffy Rating: Teen and Up Words: 2730 Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Idiots in Love, college student luffy, not that that matters, surgeon law, Established Relationship

Summary: Walking through the park with two coffees in hand, Luffy mourned the fact that he didn't have any time to appreciate the beauty of the autumn leaves or to play in the meticulously raked piles. But he had only 30 minutes and he wasn't about to waste them.

-----------

As he stood in line at his favourite coffee shop, Luffy couldn't help but tap his foot impatiently. Even though there were only two people in front of him, it felt like it was taking forever with the man at the register taking his sweet time with making up his mind on what to order. Luffy would never understand why some people insisted on holding everyone else up instead of waiting to queue until after they knew what they were getting. He hated waiting; hated having to stand in place with nothing to do except listening to people ask stupid questions like if a cappuccino had milk in it. And he especially hated waiting when he was already running low on time.

Thankfully, once the indecisive idiot moved on, Luffy’s turn came quickly since the girl in front of him was seemingly about as done and ready to run off with her coffee as Luffy was.

“Hey, Luffy. What will you be getting?” Usopp greeted from behind the counter, flashing him a grin which was gladly returned.

Luffy was always happy when one of his friends was working and he would be lying if he said it wasn’t a big part of the reason he loved this coffee shop so much. The delicious food and coffee and its close proximity to their college was really just a bonus.

Doing his best to avoid looking at the pastry case next to him, Luffy easily recited his order, “One large pumpkin spice latte with an extra shot of espresso and one large black coffee,”

Usopp nodded, writing his order and names down on the coffee cups before handing them over to the barista on duty. “You going to the hospital?” he asked as he took Luffy’s credit card.

“Yep! I just hope I make it, I’m running a bit late,” Luffy replied with a pout. Stupid indecisive customers. Never mind he had been too busy watching anime to keep track of the time and left late in the first place. No one had to know that, though.

“You better run then,” Usopp said with a smirk. “Stop by on the way back, I’ll save you a quiche.”

Luffy gasped. He had to stop himself from shouting as a wave of excitement washed over him. “Sanji’s?” he asked, nearly drooling at the idea of his friend’s cooking.

Usopp laughed, handing Luffy his credit card back. “Yes. But that’s only if you don’t get killed for being late.”

“Oh shit. Right.” Luffy slapped both his cheeks to bring himself back to reality. Usopp was right, after all; he really didn’t have the time to daydream about food. No matter how tasty it had to be and how good it would smell and how it would melt in his mouth and—

“Oi, Luffy,” Usopp said as he smacked him over the head with his sharpie. “You’re drooling.”

Luffy blinked, then shook his head to clear it a bit. Damn Usopp for distracting him with food. Putting his credit card away, he thanked his long nosed friend before moving over to the end of the counter to wait for his coffees. It only took a minute for them both to be done, the pink haired girl—Luffy was pretty sure her name was Rebecca, a freshman in their college—working blissfully fast. Luffy happily grabbed both cups as soon as they were presented to him and ran off, only pausing to grin and nod at Usopp who called after him, asking him to say hi to his doctor.

The walk to the university hospital from the coffee shop was short, only about ten minutes away, but as he glanced at his watch, Luffy knew he would be cutting it close. Picking up the pace, he quickly crossed the street to enter the city park, weaving his way through the trees and people taking casual strolls while enjoying the view of beautifully coloured leaves at a painfully slow pace.

The third time Luffy nearly crashed into a laughing child or a dog happily chasing said child, he cursed internally. He really didn't have the time for this. He needed to take the shortest route to the other side of the park without any distractions or delays. No matter how pretty the trees coloured with bright red and yellow looked or how much fun playing in the piles of raked up, already fallen leaves would be. He didn't have the luxury to walk at a slow pace like the other adults, or to run and jump around like the children. No matter how much the laughter of kids and happy barks of dogs accompanied by the telltale rustling of the dead leaves getting kicked and thrown all over was making him smile and tempting him to join in.

But he only had 30 precious minutes and coffees that were getting colder by the minute in the crisp autumn air. He had no time to play today.

—————

When Luffy finally made it to the little grassy area in front of the hospital, he quickly scanned all the benches until his eyes caught the white lab coat and the contrasting black, short hair. He grinned, deciding not to call out to the doctor; instead, he made his way towards him slowly and quietly. As he walked, he took a moment to appreciate the wide shoulders and long neck. It was almost as if he was trying to show off how handsome he was with the way he was sitting there. Not that he was doing anything special—or was the type to do these things on purpose—but Luffy still thought looking so good like that should be illegal.

He might have been a little bit biased though. After all, he thought his boyfriend was always handsome, even after several long shifts at the hospital when he was sporting panda eyes worse than actual pandas and hair messier than Luffy’s own, sitting huddled into a blanket while nursing his eighth cup of coffee of the day and throwing glares at everyone. Whenever someone came over while Law was like that, they would all note how awful Law looked before they’d send him to sleep but Luffy never understood that. Even dead tired Law was so handsome it hurt and Luffy was pretty sure it was impossible for him to look awful. Everyone else was just blind.

Luffy sighed; what was he getting so worked up for anyway? It didn’t matter what anyone else thought. Law was his and he was handsome and funny and smart and Luffy loved him and that was all that really mattered, wasn’t it?

Grinning to himself, Luffy took the last few, quiet steps that separated them, standing directly behind his boyfriend and raising one of the coffee cups in his hands up to hover above Law’s head. Luckily, the man seemed to be too busy texting Bepo to notice how dangerously close he was to getting the shit scared out of him and Luffy had trouble keeping his laughter inside and ruining everything.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly let the cup go down—

“Don’t even think about it.”

Luffy groaned. Of course. Of course Law could somehow feel his presence and read his damn mind. He didn’t even look up from his phone, this asshole. As his last act of defiance, Luffy let the bottom of the cup hit Law in the head a little harder than strictly necessary, earning himself an annoyed ‘Hey!’ which he decided to ignore. Instead, he simply walked around the bench to drop down next to Law, a pout on his lips as he looked at his boyfriend.

“You’re no fun,” he complained.

Law smirked, making a show of looking at his phone before he shot back, “And you’re late.”

Luffy cringed, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, there was a slow idiot at the coffee shop. Usopp says hi, by the way.”

“Uh-huh,” Law hummed slowly, his smirk widening as he reached up to touch Luffy’s hair, pulling out a dead leaf that somehow got tangled in it a second later. “Sure,” he added, twirling the leaf in between his fingers.

Luffy’s eyes widened. “That—” he paused, wrecking his brain for any plausible explanation— “must have fallen on me when I was walking through the park.”

Law raised an eyebrow at that, reaching out once more, this time towards Luffy’s collar bone. “I guess this one just so happened to fall and get stuck under your jacket, then?” he asked casually as he pulled out another leaf.

Just how many of these was Luffy carrying around in weird places? And he only jumped into a pile of them once.

Slowly raising his eyes from the two leaves in Law’s hand to look at the man himself, Luffy gave him the widest, brightest smile he could muster and simply announced, “Yep!”

There was a beat of silence before Law started laughing, tossing the leaves away and giving Luffy a look that was so soft and so full of amusement that Luffy couldn’t help but feel happy that he was able to put that expression there. That he could break the resting bitch face Law was constantly accused of having.

“Well, to be fair, I only just got here myself. A check up ran late,” Law said, gesturing to the coffees in Luffy’s hands.

“Don’t tease me then, asshole,” Luffy grumbled but immediately checked which cup was which before he handed the right one over.

Law accepted the now-lukewarm drink gratefully, then looked at Luffy with that damned smirk again. “Sorry,” he simply said. 

He didn’t sound sorry at all.

Luffy huffed but before he could complain about how mean Law was to his quality caffeine provider, Law leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Luffy’s lips, breathing a quiet ‘thank you’ as soon as they parted. Now, that was just unfair; how was Luffy supposed to sulk when Law went and did something like this?

Oh well.

“You’re welcome,” Luffy said with a grin, raising his own cup to his lips and humming appreciatively. That place really was the best, even without the fact Sanji did most of their cooking; the coffee was absolutely delicious as always.

“What’s this?” Law asked a moment later, voice full of… something.

Luffy blinked, tilting his head to the side in confusion at the way Law was staring at his coffee. “Pumpkin spice latte?” he tried, unsure why Law needed to hear it. Luffy could smell the distinct aroma of it the entire time he was carrying it.

Law looked at Luffy with something that was probably supposed to be a glare but to Luffy it only looked like he was trying to hide his embarrassment. “You know I always get it black,” he complained a second later and Luffy couldn’t stop the snicker that forced its way past his lips.

Law was seriously so cute.

“Torao, how long have we been together? I’m pretty sure you can stop pretending to like it black just for the aesthetic of it at this point,” Luffy stated matter-of-factly as he took great care to take a long, taunting sip of his own black coffee.

Luffy was pretty sure if Law was wearing his favourite hat, he would be pulling it down to hide his blush right then and he couldn’t stop smiling. Seriously, how was this man real? So handsome and sexy, unashamed and confident in everything he did, yet absolutely adorable.

Luffy was so damn lucky.

Law often disagreed with him on that point but for all his smarts, Law was often wrong. Always wrong when it came to whether or not he deserved Luffy. But Luffy didn’t mind; he would tell his Torao over and over, as many times as he needed to hear it.

Shuffling over a little, Luffy leaned against Law’s side. Law automatically threw his arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer as they sat in silence for a little while, simply enjoying their coffees and each other’s presence. They didn't have much time, after all. Law would have to go back to work soon and then they wouldn’t be able to see each other until late evening when he would finally get home. Luffy couldn’t wait for tomorrow when they were both free and could lazy around in their bed—or possibly on the couch watching movies if they were feeling adventurous—all damn day with no distractions.

Distractions like the nurse who was currently running towards them and calling Law’s name like he was a middle schooler skipping class and they both groaned. So much for their 30 minutes. “Doctor Trafalgar, you need to come back, there’s a patient—”

“Are they dying right this minute?” Law asked, voice flat, and Luffy had to bite his bottom lip to keep himself from snorting.

The nurse looked taken aback, blinking a few times before she slowly replied, “Well, no, but—”

“Then they can wait five minutes,” Law said firmly, sending the now positively scandalized nurse off.

Luffy waited until she was out of earshot before he started laughing. “Is she new?” he asked, glancing up at Law to watch his expression go from annoyed to slightly amused.

“Yeah, transferred last week or something. Can’t get used to me not giving a fuck,” he said, waving the hand he had around Luffy’s shoulders dismissively. “Also keeps glaring at my tats.”

“God forbid the genius Surgeon of Death has a tattoo or ten.” Luffy nodded solemnly, making Law chuckle.

“Exactly,” Law agreed before rolling his eyes as he continued. “I’m also told she’s extra pissed off because I have a boyfriend and won’t date her.”

Luffy gasped, putting his hand over his heart dramatically. “You have a boyfriend? And here I was, thinking I had a chance!”

“He doesn’t have to know,” Law said, his tone so over-the-top seductive that Luffy burst out laughing.

“You’re a terrible man, Doctor Torao,” Luffy scolded, doing his best to keep the laughter out of his voice and failing terribly.

Law huffed, shoving Luffy away from himself half-heartedly before tilting his head back to drain his cup of the last drops of coffee. “I can’t believe you keep calling me Torao even in situations like this,” he said, giving Luffy a disappointed look. Probably because Luffy ruined the game by using his nickname but like hell could Luffy be bothered to say his full name.

“It’s not my fault your surname is so stupid,” he replied, sticking his tongue out at Law. “Besides, you keep calling me Straw Hat, too. I’m half-convinced you don’t know even a part of my name.”

“Sure, Straw Hat-ya, whatever you say,” Law teased and Luffy was tempted to throw something at him. Too bad there was still some coffee in his cup.

“You’re an asshole. Go off to save some lives or whatever,” Luffy muttered, his efforts to sound upset sadly betrayed by the wide smile that he couldn’t wipe off of his face.

Law chuckled, finally standing up and stretching, giving Luffy a nice view of his back once more. Now, that had to be on purpose. Not that Luffy was complaining. “I’m going then, since you hate spending time with me so much,” he said off-handedly, turning around to glance at Luffy who only rolled his eyes.

“Yep. That’s why I came all the way here with your stupid latte,” Luffy agreed as he took Law’s empty cup to throw out later.

Luffy looked up when he felt warm fingers brush his cheek. Law was standing above him, tilting his face up more and Luffy saw no reason to not oblige. Leaning up into the soft kiss, one that tasted of coffee and pumpkin spice, Luffy couldn’t help but melt into the touch. Law’s hand on his cheek was warm and soft, his lips slightly chapped but so very sweet, smiling against Luffy’s own, and Luffy wished he could keep him right there, next to him forever.

Stupid people who just had to be dying and in need of his asshole of a genius surgeon.

But well, Law loved his work, as much as he griped and complained about it, and as long as he was happy, so was Luffy. Didn’t mean he didn’t want to steal him for himself once in a while though.

“Good thing you hate me so much, then,” Law mumbled against Luffy’s lips when they pulled away from each other minutely.

Luffy grinned. “Hate you so much I could die.”

“Good,” Law nodded, pressing one last kiss to Luffy’s lips. “See you later, Luffy.”

Luffy laughed at the deliberate use of his name. As if he needed to hear it to know Law hated him about as much as he hated Law.

Quickly grabbing the hand that was sliding off his cheek, Luffy briefly kissed the small image of a straw hat on Law’s inner wrist—a tattoo that matched the little heart that Luffy carried in the same place—before letting go.

“See you later, Torao.”

[adragonhoardingstories]

Of Blood and Bonds- Chapter 5

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On that note, this book will contain swearing, mentions of rape and torture. I will try not be explicit but that's really relative. Read at your own risk. There will be warning before if I make a explicit scene so that you can skip it.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy and don't hunt me down for this.

Happy New Year

---------------------------------------------

Another day she had needed to spend with the idiots in her class. Once again, she felt like cursing her parents. 

Marinette was by all means done with Lycée, she was following University courses but after Tom and Sabine had disowned her in all but name, it's not like they knew that. Most of her old relations had no idea what she was up to and it suited her not seeing them ever again. 

But despite everything, the Dupain-Chengs she didn't consider herself one anymore did to her, they still didn't want her to dishonour their family even more so they made an arrangement with her and her Lycée.

She had to at least show up for the exams and any school functions and they would leave her alone to do as she pleased instead of sending her to a boarding school and well with all her responsibilities, she never really had a choice. 

Which brought her here - on the Gotham Field Trip. She really didn't know why they had even sent her here, they were only wasting their money and Sabine must have known that the chances of her meeting Bruce were high, especially since their activities were centered around Wayne Enterprises.

Today they were going to be assigned to one person they had to shadow all day - it was supposed to help them get some actual job experience. 

Marinette was chosen to shadow the CEO - how surprising - and it just so happened that today was one of the rare days Bruce Wayne was in the company so she would have the pleasure of helping both him and Tim depending on who needed her most - yay her. 

She was willing bet her future fashion empire that Bruce had orchestrated this in an attempt to get a chance to talk to her. 

However she had to admire that one good thing come out of this - Lila Rossi got served. 

Like she had mentioned it before, she didn't have anything to do with her past classmates except the bare minimum but it seemed even now the liar still felt threatened by her every time they met. And honestly, she couldn't care less except that wench was the reason her parents had turned against her and of course how could we forget the worse thing of all? That Lila Rossi was willingly working with Hawkmoth - a known terrorist. 

So the jobs had been announced and Lila has started her usual act and name dropping and oh there must have been a mistake, Timothy told me that I would be chosen to work with him since I'm already used to helping him. That had received a sharp look from the one delegating and a simple comment about Miss Rossi you are to report to our legal team, they have something prepared especially for you. Seeing Lie-La pale and shut up so yeah that had been the highlight of her day. 

But now, now she was most certainly going to be forced to speak to her father and she kind of wished that Lila had succeeded for once. 

Just as the lady she had grown to like was about to show her the way, her father magically appeared not really, she had seen him hiding in the shadows for the last five minutes and offered to guide her himself. 

As she predicted, he said nothing else, until they were in his office but once the doors were closed… 

"Mari-" He started to speak but then the doors banged open and a haggard looking Tim Drake stumbled in. 

"Nette, I heard I got you today. Thank fuck I didn't get one of the brats." He stumbled in on the couch, paying Bruce no mind and grinned at her. "Plus, I get sister bonding time so win-win for me."

Marinette looked from him to Bruce. "You have impeccable timing." She informed him. "So I'm going to make you coffee."

"You are an angel." He declared. "An absolute angel. Now I understand why Damian likes you so much."

Marinette laughed it off. "Damian likes me because I don't call him Demon Spawn Timbers."

"In my defense." He groaned. "He was a brat back then and now, well it's basically a nickname. Call it brother's privilege if you want. And he knows it."

Marinette smiled gently at him as she placed a cup of coffee in front of him and Bruce, and sat down drinking her own cup. "Does he know that?"

Tim blinked at her, a thoughtful expression taking place on his face. 

It lasted until he tasted the coffee, then it was replaced by awe. 

"This is so good, how is this so good, it's literally the same thing I drink everyday? Can you work for me permanently?"

She was amused and this conversation seemed to shock her father so it was a plus. "But Timmy, if I change my career how are you going to get your special MDC suits?"

That strangely made him go serious. 

"About that, I needed to talk to you." 

Marinette raised an eyebrow, this should be good. 

"What would you think if Wayne Enterprises becomes the main sponsor for MDC?" 

She leant back in her seat crossing her feet and took a long sip of her drink. 

"Now why would I agree to that?"

Tim looked surprised while she was careful to keep her own face carefully blank but he recovered quick enough and seemed to thrive on the challenge. 

Marinette could pinpoint the exact moment when he changed to his game face. "Why wouldn't you? This in the long term will benefit you especially when you decide to release your line or officially start your company."

"Who said anything about releasing a line? Right now I'm on a clientele only basis and the greatest thing about MDC right now is my anonymity. My business is flourishing and I'm on high demand, especially among celebrities so you can imagine the price I get for each of my works. Why would I want to change that?"

"While that is true, the novelty will eventually wash off. Your designs may be good enough for you to get some loyal customers but you won't be as you put it in high demand anymore. And I may have known you for only a while, but I doubt you haven't planned for the future."

Marinette could admit, she was a little impressed. "Also true, but I'm currently a millionaire and have more than enough money to launch a line by myself."

Tim opened his mouth to interrupt but she continues before he could.

"And yes, I do understand how accepting your offer will benefit me more but signing with you also means that will represent my brand and how can I - bearing my own interests in mind - accept knowing is publicly involved with Wayne Enterprises?"

He looked completely lost and Marinette was probably having more fun that she should with this. "I'm not sure I follow?"

"I mean that even if people don't outright state it, everyone knows that the Wayne finances and outfits the Gotham vigilantes."

"And your point is?" The poor boy was going to make her say it. 

"Your costumes are a fashion disaster Timmy, an eyesore if not a horror?" 

"They're not that bad!"

"Do not get me started on the first Robin's costume. Were you not in your right mind when you allowed it?" For the first time in the day, she spoke to Bruce. 

"Wait, you know?" She shot Tim a questioning look. Why hadn't told him, she figured it out? The boy just shrugged and she sighed. 

"It's not that difficult to figure out Bats. You and Mom literally met while you training in extreme martial arts and the way she described you doesn't match up with the idea the media has of you so I was already suspicious and then I met them and I saw them in costume, they have the same build and everything and their alibi was frankly terrible. Also the rate at which you take in kids matches with the appearance of each new Robin."

"When was the last time you got your IQ tested?" He demanded. 

Marinette elected to ignore that comment in favour of finishing her conversation with Tim. "So?"

"So if I get everyone to agree to a costume redesign by you, you'll sign?"

"I get to re-design and remake all of your costumes as well as become the go to for the family for all your events."

"That's a lot of conditions."

She shrugged, a smile playing on her lips. "Those are my terms but if you'd like, you can consider the part about your costumes a favor to you sister so that she doesn't get a heart attack everytime she sees you suited up."

"I'll agree as long as you admit you're exaggerating."

Marinette gave him a deadpan look. "Have you ever seen the Red Hood helmet. I have nightmares about it."

He considered it. "Yeah okay that's fair. So should I start working on the papers?"

Marinette shook her head. "I'm going to rebrand once and for all once I'm 18 along with my face reveal."

"Rebrand, why?"

"Like you rightly pointed out two nights ago MDC stands for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Well I don't want to be a Dupain-Cheng for longer than I have to. I'll be changing my name hence the rebranding."

"Would you consider Wayne?" Bruce asked softly. Marinette paused. She had been considering taking Master Fu's name actually. "I don't know B."

"I'll leave you two to talk." Tim said slowly getting up and she would have protested but she could not run from this forever and the Kwami pressing against her leg seemed to agree. 

"Yeah just…" She took out her phone and send him a contact. "That's my lawyer, you can send her the papers to review. I'll talk to her about it."

Tim checked his phone and went slack jawed. "Elle Woods. Elle Woods is your lawyer." He threw his hands up in defeat. "I don't know why I'm still surprised at this point but I'm gonna ask, how did you get her to work for you?"

"She's one of my regulars. "

"Of course she is." Tim muttered. Marinette watched silently as he went to refill his cup of coffee but ended up taking the whole coffee machine with him and walked out of the door. 

Marinette turned to Bruce. She was not looking forward to this but she sighed and got up. "I'm supposed to be working so give me something to do."

"I thought you agreed we need to talk Marinette."

"I never agreed to anything." She reminded him. "But yes we'll talk." She pointed a finger at him. "While I work. So, give me something to do."

"You need this to be on your terms." He noted. 

"I know you've researched what happened. After having been stripped from my senses and having my will taken away from me, yes I do enjoy being in control." She dared him to say something. "So. Give. Me. Something. To. Do."

"You can arrange the paper on the desk. According to the project names, put it in alphabetical order with A being on top."

Marinette set to work without another word. Bruce took that as his cue to start speaking. 

"You know about Batman. The year I stopped talking to you was when when I was assumed dead-"

"Then why?" She cut in sharply. "Did Alfred not even deign inform me that my father was dead? Or what about after you came back?"

He stayed silent. 

"The truth B is that even before that you were speaking to me less and less. Your phone calls, rare as they were, were always so short I was never able to tell you what i wanted." She gave out a humorless laugh. "You know I used to be scared that you didn't want me. I mean why else would you keep me a secret from your other children? So I didn't complain because I didn't want to stop having the little time you even gave to me. Guess, I was right in the end."

"No." He stood up and came to stand in front of her. "Marinette sweetie, please believe me. I fell in love with you from the moment I saw you. I've never not wanted you but my lifestyle was always very dangerous but I never realised how much it really was until Jason died and then shortly after I returned Damian died. Every child of mine has been traumatized in some way by my enemies. I didn't want the same to happen to you. There are villains out there who know who I am. I got scared Marinette, distancing myself from you was me trying to protect you. I know - I know it doesn't excuse me not being there for you but you need to know I am so so sorry. Please let me make it up to you. "

Marinette felt the kwamis on her person press against her, offering their silent support. 

"I'm willing to try." She said at last, finishing arranging the last of the documents. She looked up at him and could basically read the hope in his expression. "But you need to give me space. I'm not coming to live in Gotham nor am I going to defer to you. I've built my own life, you're not going to interfere with in. You can be in it but you don't get to try and change things."

"Okay, okay I can work with that."

"Then you've got yourself a deal." Marinette offered him her hand to shake and he did shake it but right after, he pulled her in a hug. 

Bruce realized his mistake when Marinette stiffened up but she relaxed in his arms and she slowly, almost hesitantly clutched his shirt, like a small child holding their dad's shirt, trying to hide in his arms. 

And a father's heart broke all over again.

[kiruuuuu]

More BB/Goyo in which Goyo is slowly going mad. On several accounts. (Rating E, fluff/humour/resolved sexual tension + smut, ~5.2k words) - written for @kiruuuuu​ seeing as she continued obsessing about these two after this piece.

.

Blackbeard is slowly but surely driving him insane.

One big part is the physical aspect, Goyo isn’t denying it – and if it were only that, he’d be as far from complaining as he could be. If his biggest problem was Blackbeard's attractiveness, he’d live in an almost ideal world with most of his dreams coming true, but as it is, the deep-seated desire burning low and slow in his groin merely ensures Goyo doesn’t forcibly eject Blackbeard from his life again due to all the other reasons the American is personally raising Goyo’s blood pressure. He should’ve expected this outcome and largely did, yet imagining having to combat vague incompatibilities while cruising high on happiness hormones which are released in laughable quantities every time he receives a friendly text over the holidays was somehow decidedly easier to stomach than dealing with actual issues face-to-face.

Goyo knows himself, as does Amaru, which is why he doesn’t disagree with her suggestion of meeting in public the first few times. He’s always been weakest right at the beginning of a fancy, daydreaming of scenarios that leave him short of breath and having to adjust his trousers, hoping they don’t betray him if he happens to be in a public space. Despite knowing better, he’s dived head first into physical relationships and paid the price for it, and after having slept with a married man once (without his knowledge, though the blame of hastiness lay upon him regardless), he vowed to improve. Besides, he suspects Blackbeard hasn’t dated a lot of men, so he should take it slow anyway.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t prepared for the change in wardrobe following a throwaway comment about camouflage patterns because not only did Blackbeard take him seriously and dressed differently for their dates from then on (which is a turn on already), his shirts are also very tight. Not unacceptably so, but entirely too tight for someone with pecs this pronounced. In moments when it was hard to deal with Blackbeard's personality, Goyo reminded himself as to why he was still around by eyeing up Blackbeard's chest and Christ. He would love to grope him for hours. Maybe suckle on those puppies. God.

It doesn’t help that he’s changed his aftershave as well. Goyo felt genuinely bad complaining about so much right away, even if it was done through careful euphemisms and half-jokes he practised beforehand, and promised himself to compliment Blackbeard elaborately should he act on it – but never did he expect for Blackbeard to dip into the nearest shop with him to try and find a fragrance Goyo liked. He claimed he was tired of his old one but hadn’t found an excuse to switch so far, and offered his own opinions additionally to Goyo’s, meaning the entire thing felt organic and constructive instead of passive-aggressive or, worse, blindly compliant. As a result, Goyo stands that tiny bit closer whenever he can. Prolongs their hugs. Inhales consciously whenever they kiss. He loves a good-smelling man, and Blackbeard has turned from handsome to painfully sexy.

He makes sure Blackbeard knows, too. He might be picky and demanding, but he would like to think of himself as appreciative, so whenever he notices the American looking or smelling exceptionally good, he remarks on it. And the delighted expressions he reaps are worth feeding this inflated ego. He doesn’t think the other man has been complimented on his appearance much, certainly not by fellow guys.

.

The very first thing they fight about is punctuality. As inevitable as death. It turns into a recurring theme as they simply can’t agree on anything and Goyo’s laid-back attitude towards time sparks nothing but disbelief in Blackbeard – he does learn by setting their meeting half an hour before he actually arrives, but whenever he’s meant to pick Goyo up by car, he shows up on the dot and paces impatiently around the flat without taking his shoes off while Goyo finishes whichever task held him up. Blackbeard calls him rude, Goyo waves him off, and the whole drama repeats the next time. They even have a long talk about it, with Goyo stressing the importance of enjoying life at one’s own personal pace, and Blackbeard calling on politeness and prioritising others over tasks such as washing the dishes.

Related to this, Blackbeard always requires an exact plan while Goyo prefers adapting vague ideas to actual circumstances. There’s no spontaneity in most of Blackbeard's actions, he’s rigid and inflexible and it drives Goyo absolutely nuts. After having agreed on watching a film that night, they walk past a fantastic-looking restaurant Goyo instantly wants to try out, and Blackbeard flat out refuses. Just says no. Claims their original plan was superior simply because it was made earlier, and when Goyo points out that literally nothing is stopping them from having dinner together instead of sitting at the cinema for a few hours, Blackbeard is having none of it. He’s hungry, he agrees with Goyo’s assessment that the place looks inviting, and yet he won’t budge. How did he get to where he is now with this attitude?

Also, Blackbeard is loud. And by this, he’s not even referring to his deafening voice – he’s a pitchman manqué – but rather his behaviour as a whole. Nigh everyone can tell his country of origin due to him constantly approaching perfect strangers, which Goyo finds exceedingly rude. People just want to mind their own business, as does he, and he wouldn’t appreciate being accosted by some random dude on the street. Blackbeard has the gall to call him rude as a result and defends himself by pointing out he leaves the grumpy ones alone and has a lovely chat with the rest who seems to enjoy their talk. Blackbeard has no qualms cursing in public and calling out unacceptable behaviour, and Goyo preferred the ground to swallow him whenever his companion starts an argument with a line skipper or someone parking like an idiot.

What, am I supposed to just tut and walk away?, Blackbeard scoffs, his tone making clear what he thinks of the British nation as a whole.

There are countless other details: Blackbeard's apartment is messy. He can’t cook for the life of him, yet is an utter baking snob. He leaves the toilet seat up. He loves the worst kind of cheesy patriotic action films and accepts no criticism on this. The music in his car leaves Goyo’s ears ringing for the rest of the evening. He seems to think kissing is the only worthwhile public display of affection. He’s ignorant about most other cultures yet fancies himself open-minded because his best friend is Korean – this only means he compares anything and everything either to the States or Korea. Getting him to eat anything he hasn’t tried before is an uphill struggle. Except if it’s Korean.

Vigil seems to get a pass on nearly everything, and Goyo is beginning to think Blackbeard either had or still has a crush on the man. He’s empathetic and understanding as can be with Vigil, and almost seems to enjoy arguing with Goyo. It’s getting old fast.

.

And then there are those other moments. The ones so sharp and vivid they linger in Goyo’s mind long after the fact, bright and warm like a sip of good alcohol, and almost as intoxicating too. They end up eating in the restaurant after all, and Goyo is mentally preparing for the backlash if it turns out to be rubbish – not that he thinks it will be, but he’d rather outline his defence already. In the back of his mind, he’s wondering whether he’s the stubborn one in this case, with his insistence to get his way showcasing his own inflexibility. His mother taught him to be kind whenever he can afford it, yet past experiences and an underlying pessimism usually convince him he can’t. He knows she’d be disappointed with how often he chooses the less compassionate path.

“I’m not good at this”, Blackbeard announces out of the blue, throwing Goyo off once more. This happens regularly, him spiralling and conducting a whole other conversation in his mind, and Blackbeard interrupting his thoughts with something outlandish. Most of the time, Goyo is relieved about it. He tends to get lost and is glad whenever he’s brought back to the present.

Since there’s no indication as to what he means, Goyo needs him to clarify. “At what?”

“Just… this.” And Blackbeard gestures somewhere between them. “Compromising. Letting someone else into my life. Listening.”

I know someone else who’s terrible at all three of those, Goyo thinks and doesn’t say.

“But I like you. And I want to get better. So please be patient with me and talk to me. Okay?”

Blackbeard likes him.

Idiotically, hearing it out loud makes him giddy as if this was a new revelation, but then his brain latches on to the much more important implication of Blackbeard wanting to communicate, being willing to work on himself and on the both of them, admitting faults. It’s a beacon of hope and one he didn’t expect – Blackbeard has never struck him as particularly introspective, not with how he values arbitrary rules above creative thinking, yet it seems he underestimated him. He’ll have to correct his mental image and allow Blackbeard to improve.

“Yes. That sounds good”, he replies after mulling over Blackbeard's words for a bit, prompting a sigh of relief. And, to throw him a bone: “You’re doing good.”

A scoff. “Am I though?”

“You are. Why else would I say it?”

“I don’t know. You just…” Blackbeard lowers his gaze, searching for the right thing to say. “I’m nervous around you.”

Goyo laughs. Can’t help it, he bursts out with a brief laugh turning into a hearty chuckle because – Blackbeard gets nervous? He dreaded being in the same room as the American early on and never managed to settle down in his presence, and now he’s learning it was reciprocal? Had he known he could’ve scared him away, he might’ve confronted Blackbeard earlier, returned the sass, threw his weight around a little. Instead, they were watching each other like hawks for ultimately only marginally different reasons. Nothing about Blackbeard is adorable, but this is the closest thing to it: him being bashful, admitting his crush, relinquishing power and inviting himself to be mocked. Goyo is delighted.

“You don’t need to be”, he reassures and runs his fingertips over the back of Blackbeard's hand, a gentle gesture he seems to appreciate.

There are these moments which remind Goyo why he gave Blackbeard a chance in the first place, and they are what keep him going whenever Blackbeard starts arguing in favour of one of his ‘life principles’.

.

“I made a mistake”, Goyo states, not bothering to hide his fatalistic tone of voice.

Amaru is instantly entertained. Her optimistic and easygoing attitude is part of the reason why she got along so swimmingly with Goyo’s mother, and also why he’s endlessly grateful for her presence in his life: she helped him get past failures whenever his mum wasn’t available, and provided encouragement and support whenever he needed it. It’s also why he keeps bothering her with his problems. “Does it have anything to do with your new relationship?”

She watched from a distance as he made his first few questionable choices in his dating career, ready to pick him up and dust him off whenever he’d fallen down. He learned to accept and value her advice once he realised she was never wrong, so he’s hoping she can assist him with his current predicament. “How did you guess?”, he sighs, not requiring an answer. “They’re showing a documentary I’m interested in on TV this evening, and I mentioned it to Craig.”

“So now he wants to watch it with you?”, his aunt surmises, making him nod. “Which means you’d have to spend the evening with him without falling victim to his manly wiles.” He nods again, looking pained. “And you want me to give you the go-ahead for making up an excuse so you don’t have a bad conscience when you cancel on him.”

Well. Maybe she was the wrong person to approach about this. “When you put it like that, it sounds… bad.”

She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Don Goyo, you’re old enough to not need my approval. Which you’re not going to get anyway, before you ask.”

“I have a feeling I know what you’re about to say to me.”

“Just tell him. If you’re not ready, he needs to know. He deserves to know, César.”

It’s not that he isn’t ready. If it was for him, they’d have fucked in the nearest public stall on their second date, he’s been dreaming about strong arms and an insistent tongue for almost the entire month that they’ve been dating. He’s overripe, and still – it doesn’t feel right somehow. Like he should wait a little longer. They’ve gotten to know each other much better, anticipating each other’s moods, making small gifts here and there and texting daily. Even so, there’s just something.

“Don’t brood. Go and talk to him. Either he respects your boundaries and everything’s good, or he refuses and you can launch him into outer space. No matter the outcome, you’ll be off better than before.”

She must sense his hesitation as she tries to instil her wisdom a few more times before giving up and wishing him a pleasant night. He leaves, conflicted – he doesn’t want to hurt Blackbeard's feelings by rejecting him before even anything happens, and at the same time he’s not comfortable actually reaching below the belt yet.

He’s hoping Blackbeard simply doesn’t try anything. It’s the best case scenario.

.

About eight hours later, all Goyo can think between different versions of God this feels so fucking good is: this didn’t go to plan at all. Blackbeard is buried up to the hilt and Goyo is grateful for being momentarily distracted so he has an excuse not to think critically about what’s happening right then.

And it started out so well.

Goyo arrives only fifteen minutes late, which he thinks is more than reasonable even if Blackbeard doesn’t comment on it, and takes note of the slightly less messy flat – it’s not even that bad normally, some dirty dishes scattered around and pieces of clothing, but at least they give the otherwise relatively barren apartment some character. They kiss as a greeting, briefly, as Blackbeard is busy heating up something to eat, and then sit on the couch with plates on their laps, chatting about their day while waiting for the program to start.

It’s domestic. It should be relaxing and pleasant, not nerve-wracking, but after sitting next to Blackbeard for ten minutes of serious introduction and noticing how his sweatpants don’t really do a good job at hiding anything, Goyo knows he won’t do anything to stop him should he make a move. In a way, it’d be a relief: get it over and done with, don’t dwell on it, move on. The anticipation is putting him on edge, keeps his hairs standing up and his breaths measured. He’s hyper-aware of his knee brushing against Blackbeard's, the broad chest next to him rising and falling, the thumping of his own heart.

He can’t concentrate. Images flash on the screen, a soothing narrator recounts past horrors in a deep voice and historical photographs take turns. He’d actually been looking forward to watching this programme, and should’ve known doing it together with Blackbeard would end in disaster, yet wasn’t prepared for himself being the culprit. Blackbeard has beautiful arms, oozing latent strength and tanned nicely, the dark hairs making them even more appealing. Maybe he doesn’t shave his chest. He probably doesn’t, would consider it unmanly, and with how lush and full his beard is -

“Can I get you a beer?”

Goyo blinks. It’s a commercial break, he hadn’t even noticed. “No”, he says, and thinks: and I’d rather you didn’t have one either. The taste of it is revolting to him.

“I’ll just get one for myself then”, Blackbeard replies, already risen from the sofa, and makes the mistake of leaning down for a quick, once again domestic kiss. It’s reciprocated just a tad too enthusiastically, so Blackbeard pushes back and after a few more seconds they’re tongue wrestling with an uncomfortable height difference between them. The angle is awkward but the feel of it amazing – and this is something Goyo has openly admitted numerous times: he loves the way Blackbeard kisses. Adores it. Can’t get enough of it. It’s intense and deep and wet and leaves him panting every time, with this being no exception.

He drags the other man in, forcing him to steady himself with one knee on the couch, one knee right between Goyo’s legs and both hands cupping his face. This, too, is shockingly sexy, the way Blackbeard keeps him in place to take him apart. Goyo reaches out and runs his fingers over Blackbeard's body and dear God his thighs are like stone, and his back muscles pronounced, and his abs too. He’s tilted far back now, the bear hovering over him, solid and threatening and like a rock set in motion. Soul-crushing. Inevitable.

They kiss until the break is over, until at least one of them is making these embarrassing little noises, until Goyo’s lips feel swollen and his cock is harder than it’s ever been in his life, until Blackbeard breaks off, flushed, sweating and dishevelled, and Goyo wants to suck his dick or he’ll die. Making out has always been Goyo’s weakspot, and making out like this is guaranteed to leave him weeping and ruining his underwear, and he knew Blackbeard was gonna try something. He just knew. They wouldn’t have snogged like this without purpose, without an ulterior motive, without the intention of moving on to more sinful things now.

“We should”, Blackbeard starts and has trouble focusing his gaze, “let’s – I mean -” His sweatpants really don’t let him get away with anything. Unbelievably, he disengages and plops down next to Goyo. Apparently he wants to keep watching, which is the sensible thing to do.

Yes. A good idea. Getting caught up in the moment isn’t what Goyo wants anyway.

Blackbeard is radiating heat. His confident persona has crumbled, revealing a passionate yet considerate lover, a man torn between doing the right thing and doing what feels right. Right now, his upper brain seems to be winning, or maybe he figures if he behaves, Goyo will reward him regardless, or he’s hoping Goyo will stay the night and they can fuck later, or he’s playing hard-to-get. The last option would be hilarious, since Goyo isn’t interested in buying what Blackbeard is selling for now. They should really go back to watching TV, and when it’s over, they can talk a little, and then Goyo’s going home.

Two minutes later, he’s straddling Blackbeard's lap while shoving his tongue so far down the other man’s throat it’s a miracle he’s not choking, and nearly coming in his own pants from the bit of friction he manages to get between his dick and Blackbeard's taut stomach. He’s a fucking magnet and an oven with how hot he is, mewling into the kiss like someone who’s desperate for any kind of attention, like a starving or drowning or poisoned man, like – like Goyo. His beard is soft and smells good, and when Goyo’s hands stray below fabric, he finds more hair on a broad chest and buries his fingers in it. The rugged edge Blackbeard visibly sports continues where the normal gaze doesn’t penetrate, Goyo is relieved to discover, and he can finally feel up these gorgeous tits. Get his hands on them and massage them however he likes.

His nipples are delightfully sensitive and Goyo spends too much time teasing them while sucking deep purple bruises just below Blackbeard's collar until he’s worried about Blackbeard exploding under his merciless ministrations. Frotting has been knocked down in priority now that he can twist strangled moans out of the hard body beneath him, but when his cock throbs almost painfully at a gasp, he knows they can’t go on like this.

“Please give me a moment”, Blackbeard gasps out, cheeks rosy and eyes unfocused.

Again, a reasonable request. He should listen.

“Bedroom”, he snaps and it’s not even a suggestion. He can feel his hole pulsing with the irresistible desire of getting plowed and when Blackbeard, after a second of disbelief, picks him up to carry him through the flat, Goyo is thankful for his foresight to bring condoms and lube regardless of his intentions. He had a hunch Blackbeard would try something.

They only shed what’s necessary (and the shapely legs are somehow only improved with socks on, but Goyo has been told before that it’s a sock fetish at this point) and preparation is an unceremonious affair except for the fact that Goyo sucks on Blackbeard's nipples until they’re raw and too sensitive while fingering himself open. The American has a great body, he has to admit, well-developed muscles, some scars here and there, coarse black hair adorning tanned skin and an upward curved cock beautiful enough to have Goyo’s mouth water, so sitting down on it feels predictably mind-blowing.

He does most of the work, which is fortunate as he can experiment with angles until he’s found one that actually makes him go cross-eyed, and once Blackbeard draws the connection between his blissful groans and whatever’s happening between their legs, he starts thrusting up and dear Lord.

This isn’t what Goyo had in mind when coming over, and yet he can’t find the brain capacity to regret or even care right now, not with how urgent his lust is tugging on his nerve endings, forcing him to ride towards exhaustion and cramps and an impressive muscle hangover the next day. Being able to steady himself on Blackbeard's torso is surprisingly sexy and the sheer barrage of pleasure bursting through him every time he slams down his hips keeps him from touching himself, effectively prolonging his sweet suffering.

Moving in unison has never felt this good and for once, they’re on the same wavelength, exchanging devoted gazes and trading the odd kiss. It’s akin to a reunion instead of a first time, like they’ve rehearsed this song and dance to perfection in the past and, despite a certain rustiness, are quickly finding back into their old routine.

When Goyo comes, his vision goes colourful with how tight he’s squeezing his eyelids shut. He shakes violently while balanced on Blackbeard's hips and gasps for air, overwhelmed by the elation accompanying his release and shooting his sperm all over Blackbeard's mangled chest, over the lovebites and the red marks his hands left behind from carrying his weight. His relief is crushing, and so he slumps down bonelessly, allowing the other man to pump into him a few more times before announcing his own climax with a low moan. Instinctively, it seems, Blackbeard’s palms travel over the back of his sweaty t-shirt, petting him reassuringly.

Goyo doesn’t like it. It feels like too much, like overstimulation after a long, satisfying session even though his was hardly long but certainly satisfying. He shakes the hands off and climbs down, trying to catch his breath. Next to him, blue eyes snap to his face, too attentive. Blackbeard looks like he’s not sure what to say. Goyo could lighten the situation, compliment him, make a joke, or be sincere about how much he enjoyed himself. Because he did.

Even with the afterglow fading fast.

“I’ll go shower first”, he announces and leaves with a quick kiss that seems unsubstantial. He’s gone before Blackbeard has even taken the condom off, and the sensation of dirtiness clinging to his skin seems to go beyond bodily fluids. Scrubbing himself with the only loofah (and isn’t that a surprise) wouldn’t be right, so he uses his own fingers to wipe off the odd feeling.

Blackbeard is sitting on the edge of the bed when he returns, and now he can finally place the source of the awkwardness between them: he’s not babbling. Normally, he’d have commented on Goyo’s stamina, maybe how great his arse looked, recounted an anecdote of some sorts, or even attempted a lame joke, yet all he’s doing is watching. He looks a little lost. Silvery droplets are caught in his chest hair and when they kiss again, Goyo deflects a hug with the excuse of wanting to remain clean, demands that Blackbeard go shower as well.

The bed is large and tidier than the rest of the room, as if Blackbeard had anticipated them ending up here. Despite the general lack of colour in the apartment, the duvet is beautiful with a dark turquoise pattern. The cushions look fluffy, but not too soft. It looks inviting. Goyo did bring a spare pair of underwear, knowing their shoe and therefore sock size is the same, and he briefly pictures waking Blackbeard up by sucking him off. It’s unlikely to happen, with how different their morning routines are – what little he knows anyway – and still, the image is most tempting.

He gets caught in the hallway with one shoe on his foot already, the other in his hands.

His stomach drops and speech evades him out of shame as Blackbeard leans against the door frame, tight briefs highlighting all his best assets. Oddly enough, he doesn’t seem disappointed or hurt, which does nothing to quell the burning feeling of being a disgrace eating away at Goyo’s insides.

“What are you doing?”, he asks, no reproach in his voice. Patience is one of his virtues and one he displays right now – if there was ever a moment when Goyo expected an outburst, an indignant rant, it’d be now. Instead, he picks up on a hesitant disquiet, an uneasy curiosity. Blackbeard doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows it’s important, therefore he treats it with the same mindfulness he does any serious issue.

Goyo owes him this. If there’s anything he owes this man, it’s an attempt at an explanation. Since he’s formulated it before, talked it through with past partners, he’s not unprepared yet dreads bringing it up nonetheless. “I have… commitment issues”, he replies softly.

The answering silence is one of racing thoughts, he can read it on Blackbeard's open expression. “Do you want to talk about it?”, he eventually wants to know. For a guy with no idea of how to deal with this, he’s faring remarkably well.

“I am talking about it.” Defensive. He inhales deeply before continuing. “I have trouble opening up to others. I prefer keeping most of me to myself. I can’t trust easily.”

A nod. It hurts; it means Blackbeard has noticed but didn’t dare bring it up. Always the same thing. Goyo fights down a pang of annoyance – part of his mind tries to convince him they don’t deserve him: either they mention it, which makes them whiny complainers not ready to give him time, or they don’t, which means they don’t care enough. It’s bullshit and pops up in the back of his head every time. “Am I suffocating you?”

He almost laughs at the ridiculousness of the notion. Blackbeard, who maybe suggests a quarter of their dates, who never complains about Goyo taking some time to reply to messages, who always accepts when Goyo wants to go home, seriously thinks he’s clingy. If anything, Goyo would like for him to be more overbearing, insert himself into Goyo’s life more aggressively. “No. You’re giving me all the space I need.” Too much, at times.

“Am I doing anything wrong?”

Well. What isn’t he doing wrong. Goyo’s heart melts a little over this brute trying to figure out why his lover is sneaking out on him, when it’s nothing but Goyo’s ugly side finally showing. He’s being unfair. “I didn’t want to sleep with you”, he says and knows instantly it was the worst possible thing he could’ve said, with how Blackbeard gains a look of horror, paling immediately, arms dropping by his side, slack, mouth working out an apology before the meaning has even reached his brain. Bad with words. This one he can’t really chalk up to bad timing. “No, that’s not what I meant. I wanted it and I liked it. I really did.” He’s flustered, flailing now, in unfamiliar territory, allowing the first thought to drop out of his mouth without scrutinising it first, and feels like it only gets worse. “But I – I had myself convinced I didn’t want it. Because, I don’t know. I’m -” Scared, he can’t bring himself to say. He knows it’d tear a wound which might not heal so easily. “Look. I’ll go. You don’t have to deal with this.”

No one should have to deal with him like this, sputtering and ashamed to the core, cheeks hot and composure non-existent. He wants to go home and hide for the next century and if Blackbeard told him now he’s not worth the trouble he’s causing, he wouldn’t even object.

“Don’t.” A plea. Heartfelt, for what it’s worth, but any other way and Goyo would already be putting on his second shoe. “I don’t know what to do, or what to say. I don’t know what you’d like me to do or say.”

Neither does Goyo. That’s the whole problem.

Blackbeard must be cold, nearly naked and standing in the faint draft coming in from under the door. He shifts his weight uncomfortably as they stare at each other. Please, Goyo thinks, unsure of what he even means by that. But when the next words hit his ears, he knows it’s what he’s been hoping for: “Just… come back to bed. Okay?”

The shoe hits the ground with a sharp sound cutting through the tense atmosphere between them.

.

Unsurprisingly, Blackbeard prefers being the big spoon. They fight over the blanket since Goyo needs it to sleep whereas Blackbeard insists it’s entirely too warm, and the familiar back-and-forth calms his racing heart. As does the gentle hand rubbing vague circles into his chest while they cuddle. After a few soothing moments, he asks the dreaded question of when Blackbeard's first alarm will go off, resulting in even more bickering.

“I really wanted to watch that documentary”, Goyo mumbles regretfully against the arm he’s cradling like a stuffed toy, partly because it’s wonderfully warm and partly because the skin-on-skin contact does funny things to his stomach. Being pressed against the length of Blackbeard's body is magical. He hasn’t felt this safe in a long while.

“Don’t worry, I recorded it.”

The reply, half lost in his hair, gives Goyo pause. If they could actually see anything in the impenetrable darkness Blackbeard requires to sleep peacefully, he’d turn around in indignation. “So you expected something like this to happen?”

He can feel the smile against his scalp. “Call it wishful thinking. Doing nothing but kissing did take its toll.”

Huh. Seems like he was right.

Blackbeard really did plan on trying something.

[timeagainreviews]

The Filler Fluff of the Cybermen

When is a two-parter not a two-parter? When the first part is tonight’s episode "Ascension of the Cybermen." As stories go, that was pretty damn sparse. I’ll be honest, friends, I don’t have a lot to say about tonight’s story. But that’s not why you come here, so I will try my damnedest to find something to talk about in this latest episode of Doctor Who. Right, now, how many words was that? Sixty-seven? Christ. This is going to be a slog.

I honestly shouldn’t be surprised. It had to happen. I was saying just last week that I hadn’t seen an episode I outright hated so far this series. We were due. That’s not to say I actually feel hate for this episode, more accurately, I feel very little about this episode. Usually, I endeavour to do more than simply trash an episode, but tonight, it’s either that, or I end the review here. So apologies ahead of time.

The episode opens on a Cyberman head floating in space with some knucklehead voiceover telling us about how the Cybermen have been mostly wiped out and what remains of humanity isn’t much better. The episode will now spend the next fifty minutes reiterating this point ad nausea. It was like a Star Wars title crawl, except in Star Wars, the crawl isn’t the plot of the movie you’re about to watch. Funnily, a lot of tonight’s episode reminded me of "The Last Jedi." Our heroes get split up. A slow chase ensues. No new information is gained. And it ends leaving us feeling like not a lot happened.

The Doctor and her companions come to a small human colony in the distant future. There are only seven of them left. The Doctor sets up a series of relays to help this ragtag bunch of humans kill off an oncoming Cyberman attack. Only thing is, they had never accounted for the Cybermen to first send out "Cyber Drones." Now, say you’ve got a room full of artists who love Doctor Who. And you tell them all to design drones that will be utilised by Cybermen. You can imagine they might have some rather impressive designs. Now, gather up all of those beautiful and creative drawings into your arms and throw them in the bin. Instead, we’re going to just use floating Cyberman heads. Was this because Chibnall is the kind of guy who thinks a dude with teeth pressed into his face is creepy or is this because reusing Cyberman heads is cheap? I’ll let you decide.

The Cyberheads and their eye lasers do quick work of the Doctor’s relays and sends everyone scattering to the wind. With three of the humans dead, Ryan, a young boy named Ethan, and the Doctor get left behind. Yaz and Graham, find themselves aboard a rickety gravraft with the remainder of the humans. With the TARDIS too far away, the Doctor decides they need to hijack a Cybership. I gotta give it to the Cybermen, they take better care of their ship than they do their own bodies. It’s almost as if there was no continuity in the design. Or maybe it’s like when you see someone whose life is a total mess but they have a dope car. I’ll let you decide.

After Ethan hotwires the Cybership, the Doctor pilots the ship to the most logical destination- her TARDIS. No, I’m just kidding, that would have made sense! Instead, she goes somewhere. I just double-checked with my boyfriend and we honestly couldn’t remember why anyone was doing anything at this point in the episode. After combing the episode I finally found a bit of throwaway dialogue where Ethan programmed the ship to go to a place called "Ko Sharmus." Meanwhile, the other group of protagonists are floating listlessly in space, making them the most relatable characters in this episode as that’s exactly how I felt.

By now you’re probably wondering why I haven’t gotten to the B-story happening in this episode. I guess here is as good a place as any, as it made just as much sense crammed anywhere in the episode it pleased. We see a young man and woman find a baby. This baby grows up to be their adopted son, Brendan. Brendan becomes a cop. Brendan gets shot and falls off a cliff. Brendan wakes up unscathed. Brendan’s dad looks at him like he’s creepy. Brendan grows old and retires. Brendan’s dad and boss, seemingly having not aged, wipe his memory. It makes as much sense as a wicker toilet and gives us no new information. At one point I thought he may have been Captain Jack’s kid, but then he grows old, so I don’t know what to think. What I do know is that you could have edited it down and made it into a far better cold opener than that Cyberhead floating in space shit.

The humans aboard the gravraft get stranded next to a giant Cyberman ship where a battle has gone down. Remnants of Cybermen ping the hull of their vessel like tiny asteroids. They get the bright idea to use the airlock to give the gravraft an extra thrust into the Cybership. I don’t know if it was intentional, but having Graham say "Don’t panic," right before they release the airlock was a nice little Douglas Adams reference. Or maybe it wasn’t at all, but I’ll take any joy from this episode I can get. Much like the idiotic hip bounce from "Can You Hear Me?" that knocked the sonic screwdriver up into the Doctor’s hands, the gravraft makes a million in one shot directly into the Cyberman ship’s docking bay. If they have that kind of luck sinking shots like that, they should really take their skills to the minigolf course.

The second I saw the ship, I knew that they were going to do the rows upon rows of sleeping Cybermen emerging from their tombs. It’s a Doctor Who trope as old as the Patrick Troughton era. My boyfriend was enjoying these bits as he is less familiar with the history of Doctor Who, so I let him have his fleeting enjoyment. I couldn’t even get jazzed about the new Cyberman design as they had already spoiled it with online photos. Basically, aside from the head-scratching B-story, the plot to tonight’s episode could be gathered by looking at promotional photos. There were new Cybermen. The Lone Cyberman was there. Nothing new to be learned here. Though, I will admit those new Cybermen are genuinely awesome.

The Doctor has a brief encounter with a hologram of the Lone Cyberman, or "Ashad." We learn that Ashad doesn’t just want to destroy all humans, he wants to destroy all life in the universe, for reasons. So I guess it wasn’t all a wash. Ashad heads to the Cybership where he begins waking up the Cybermen by what looks like torture. I have absolutely zero idea why he was doing what he was doing. It’s not at all made clear. Was he giving a titty twister so the Cybermen would accept him as their leader? Because after waking up the rest of them, they all seem to fall in line. Honestly, what the hell was he doing to that Cyberman? It makes no goddamn sense.

One thing I will say that made me happy was that one of my predictions from before episode one came true. They gave Graham a bit of a love interest. I called that shit. This possible love interest came in the form of Ravio, one of the human colonists. I found it rather amusing that in the future humans would still speak with British accents but have lost all context for Cockney rhyming slang. It was a cute bit of dialogue that falls apart if you think about it too much. The Cybermen force the humans into a corner to barricade themselves from the onslaught of Cybermen, and that’s where they’re left until next weekend.

Meanwhile, the Doctor arrives at Ko Sharmus which ends up being a person’s name as opposed to a planet. Chris Chibnall’s ability to name characters has not improved. Seriously, there are characters named Feekat and Yedlarmi in this episode. It hardly matters though as they’re all rather forgettable. I had to comb the episode and the internet just to figure out who was who. The Doctor never even introduces herself to Ethan. I had to figure his name out through one of the many throwaway lines of dialogue. That’s not to say that they don’t have real bits of character development. But you can take all of the character development in the world and wrap it around a hollow plot and it equals a lot of me not giving a shit.

Ko Sharmus was a welcome addition, simply because he was played by the charismatic Ian McElhinney. Turns out he’s a human colonist who stays behind in case any more humans might one day also come to this planet. There’s a sort of gateway or “boundary” out of the galaxy where many humans have gone to escape pursuit by Cyberman. Ko Sharmus’ job is to act as a guide to any possible newcomers also looking to reach said boundary. However, the Doctor quickly learns that the boundary is actually a gateway to Gallifrey. Only now it shows Gallifrey as the Master left it- in ruins.

Did I mention the Master? Well, here he is, making a "grand" entrance. The only thing at this point that was grand about the introduction of the Master to the story was that I was excited that something of substance was actually about to happen. Instead, this is our cliffhanger- this not at all surprising reveal that the Master is still alive. Of course, he is, he’s the Master. It’s a season finale with the Cybermen, of course, the Master is going to be there. It’s been that way for the past two Cyberman season finales. I guess the third time is a charm? What about any of this is supposed to be surprising? Remember how I said I was afraid they were becoming far too reliant on big reveals? This ending is the epitome of that. I think they expected to blow our minds by having the storyline they set up at the beginning of the series come into fruition. Try harder Chibs, this shit was weak.

The biggest shocker here is how little happened. What we were left with was akin to a classic filler episode where the Doctor gets captured. They padded out everything because they didn’t want next week’s episode to be ten minutes longer. Tonight’s episode exists purely because Chris Chibnall couldn’t edit down the script of a single episode into something shorter. This wouldn’t be so egregious if at least one storyline came to some sort of conclusion. If the B-story with Brendan had gone somewhere it might have made the entire episode feel somewhat worth the time and effort. Instead, we’re forced to watch a team of talented actors fill time.

I can’t help but feel like last week’s episode should have been this week’s episode with maybe a bit more setup for the finale. In place of this forgettable fluff, we could have gotten a single contained episode in its place. Something that had a beginning, middle, and end. Because of this, it’s almost as if we’ve been shorted an episode. Because of all of the wasted time in "Ascension of the Cybermen," I can only think of two outcomes for next week. One is an episode crammed so full of exposition that it will feel messy and disjointed. The other is an episode that is as equally underwhelming as tonight’s effort. Do you really mean to tell me they’re going to fit a Cyberman battle, Captain Jack, the Master, Gallifrey, the Timeless Child, and possibly Ruth into an episode and it not be a mess? It’s hard to have faith that there is a reason behind this much wasted screentime. I could use some of Graham’s optimism because at this moment it’s looking a bit hopeless.

[magioftheseas]

At The Seams

Summary: Some of his clothes have been going missing.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mental instability because that’s just how life be sometimes. That said, it’s still fluff.

Notes: I should’ve posted this sooner but Monday felt like a good day, so this Monday was the day. It’s just short 1.5K fluff, haha. I wrote it for someone on the KamuKoma server and it took...too long...wah. I hope you all enjoy it.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

It started with a simple misplacement. He thought he had hung up his favorite coat in the closet but it was nowhere to be seen. While dismayed, he took a different jacket for the time being for his errands. It bothered him all day, and he felt quite silly when he found the coat in question carefully folded by his bedside.

Truth be told, he didn’t question it. He assumed he had washed and folded it himself and just forgot. He was stupid and scatter-brained. What other explanation could there be?

And then on another day, he couldn’t find one of his shirts. Perhaps he misplaced those too? While irritated, he had many to choose from and it wasn’t as bad as his coat.

Never mind that his coat had also gone missing. But it was found again. The shirt—was not.

Bad luck, then?

His coat went missing again. He was starting to feel dizzy and disoriented, but he laughed it all off. This would be an absolutely pitiful way to lose his sanity after all, so he just rolled with it. In a way, his incompetence was amusing. Although it was more embarrassing when he realized he couldn’t find his favorite underwear.

It is just me, right? Right, right, right?

Komaeda sat on the bed, clutching his coat. It had been returned. Freshly washed with the scent he always used. Burying his face in the fabric, Komaeda breathes. And he breathes. And then, his nose brushes up against some stitches.

He blinks once.

It’s not unusual for his clothes to have stitches. He’d mended them himself for years. His coat in particular is one of his finest handiwork. It’s part of the reason why he’s so attached to it. But as he fingers these stitches, he notes that they’re much finer than usual. That his clumsy needlework could not begin to compare to what was perfection.

Perfection. It can’t be.

“Kamukura-kun?”

--

The door opens when he still lies in bed. Kamukura Izuru peers in, and his gaze sweeps over him. He shivers, tries not to bite his lip, and forces a strained smile in return.

“You did not show up today,” Kamukura pointed out. He is holding a bag. “Are you feeling unwell, Nagito?”

Swallowing, Komaeda shook his head furiously.

“Um. Kamukura-kun.” Even caught in his throat, the words feel inane. Ridiculous. Audacious. And yet, they spill because he’s an idiot with no filter. “Have you been taking my clothes?”

“Yes. I have. You said I could help myself to anything in your home.” Kamukura doesn’t even miss a beat. All while Komaeda nearly chokes and he calmly explains himself. “However, I do apologize. When I wore your shirt, I stretched it out.” He holds up the bag. “I bought you a replacement. As well as your returned underwear. I did not wear those.”

“I...see...” Komaeda nods along, trying not to laugh. “Aha, such consideration. You really didn’t have to do that. Buy another shirt, I mean. I would have preferred you returned my underwear.”

It’s funny. It’s so funny. It’s surreal. It’s so surreal.

Kamukura Izuru sets the bag before him and Komaeda takes out the clothes. Freshly washed with the scent he favors. The fabric fine as ever, just the newfound softness acting as an indication of something untoward. Something different, he amended. There was nothing wrong with Kamukura Izuru, after all. Nothing except his wretched tastes.

The shirt is the exact same as the one taken. Same size, same design, same faded white. He wants to bury his face in it, but he also considers ripping it to shreds.

I feel funny.

“Nagito?”

He doesn’t flinch. He used to, whenever his name was voiced by Kamukura’s elegant lips. Now, he just bows his head subserviently and he shifts ever so slightly when Kamukura settles on the bed beside him. He doesn’t stiffen in Kamukura’s embrace when those arms wrap securely around him, as if Kamukura intended to prevent him from sinking further into himself. Kamukura Izuru really was so much more than anyone could ever dream of deserving.

“Your scent,” Kamukura said softly, burying his face into Komaeda’s neck. “It’s nice.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” he replied, smile twisted and short of his clouded gaze. “I put a lot of effort into being clean, after all.”

“It is not just the effort.” Kamukura’s forehead bumped against his lightly. So lightly. As if Kamukura couldn’t crush his skull with just a swift strike of the hand. “It is Nagito’s inherent scent. Produced by your body’s pores and oils.”

“I guess it’s lucky, then.” His twisted smile barely twitches. “For my miserable, feeble body to emanate a stench that is to Kamukura Izuru’s preferences.”

“I have no preferences. I only like Nagito.”

That’s luck too, isn’t it?

Kamukura pets his hair, fingers sliding through the strands with ease. It should be as overwhelming and exciting as it is purely frustrating. The sensation is no doubt pleasant. Kamukura’s fingers are careful. His hand warm. The way it cups his skull is undeniably precious.

“I like Nagito,” is repeated, almost insistently. Kamukura nuzzles against him like a child seeking reassurance. How is he supposed to respond? He feels lost. Like a misplaced article of clothing. “Nagito, Nagito.”

Wouldn’t it be better to be a mere husk? One that Kamukura-kun can simply slip under and fill. Stretch out as the seams strain. Something that can be easily mended and manipulated. Wouldn’t it be easier? Wouldn’t it be comforting?

Komaeda sighs and acts in a way that an object cannot. He nuzzles Kamukura back, and Kamukura squeezes him in return. He can’t see the other smile, but he can feel it, against his scalp and skin. He trembles, and Kamukura strokes along his spine.

“I don’t mind you stretching out my clothes,” he finds himself saying. “I’ll still wear them afterwards. I like the idea of wearing what Kamukura-kun has worn, too.”

“It is a pleasant feeling,” Kamukura agreed, humming. “It is comforting.”

He laughs.

“That makes me happy to hear. Even if I don’t understand it at all.”

“What is there not to understand? It is because I am fond of you, Nagito.” Kamukura pauses, briefly, lips pulling into a more characteristic straight line. While he undeniably loves that smile, it would be a lie to suggest it calmed him in any way. This stoicism was easier to deal with. Far, far easier.

Even when Kamukura touches his face carefully, gaze intense and piercing. It was easier than when he smiled.

“I love you, Nagito.”

“Aha, thank you.” He keeps his voice steady. “I really appreciate it. I love you too, Kamukura-kun.”

Without thinking, he tugs at Kamukura’s tie. It’s a perfect knot and he undoes it. It’s almost obscene. Almost. What is obscene is the way he wraps it around his own neck and Kamukura ties it without missing a beat.

“It looks silly,” he murmurs.

“I do not mind it,” Kamukura replies, kissing his forehead. That smile returns and Komaeda wants to hide in the other’s suit. Of course, doing so just causes Kamukura to slip off the blazer and wrap it around him. He shudders. It’s ridiculous, but Kamukura hums in approval.

“Cute. Cute, cute.” He kisses one cheek, and then the next. Komaeda already feels dizzyingly hot as Kamukura next kisses his ear. “So cute. My Nagito.”

Mine, he says. That makes it easier. So much easier.

Kamukura smooths out the creases in the sleeves and he brushes back Komaeda’s hair. He pauses for a moment and then he pulls out a few clips from his own hair to pin back fluffy white fringe instead. It’s almost surreal. He almost feels like a doll with the way Kamukura manipulates him, but he smiles all the same when Kamukura cups his cheek.

“Wearing one another’s clothes is an intimate activity that lovers partake in.” The tone is matter-of-fact, almost smug. Komaeda wants to burst out laughing but instead he shudders and, then, Kamukura pulls him in close. He squeezes and strokes his hair, his nape, his back, his shoulders, and even his hip. It’s a lot at once, so all Komaeda can think to do is slump within that embrace.

Surrounded by Kamukura from his jacket to the man himself—it really is surreal.

“You could even wear my skin if you wanted to,” he mutters and laughs at the idea. Anyone else would be rightfully disturbed but Kamukura just kisses his hair as if nothing was amiss. “I wouldn’t mind being consumed by you, either.”

“I just want you with me, Nagito.”

“Aha. Haha.” Komaeda licked his lips, breathing in Kamukura’s scent. “Just that, huh?”

Of course it’s just that.

His eyes began to flutter shut as the thoughts run through his head.

Kamukura-kun has such simple, pure desires. He’s nothing like you. But isn’t that why you’re happy? That Kamukura-kun wants to wrap you in himself and wants to wrap himself in you—it’s such excess. Such indulgence. Isn’t that nice?

It’s nice. It’s definitely nice. Komaeda sighs pleasantly as he relaxes.

It’s nice. Let’s stay like this. Wrapped up in each other.