#(Im still surprised they actually make it look quite bright here)

[irndad]

TULIP WITH THE GUY EVER

this is for peter!! im feral for this man my god this is long for nothing happening- guys i am SO fucking rusty prompt: an act of affection so blatant everyone notices roommate!peter <;3 flower prompts

It’s hard not to look at her. 

There’s so much to observe, so much to place his attention on- how she smiles, the way she taps the sides of her mugs before she sips her tea. She’s a vision in red lipstick and he’s the kind of person that’s blessed to be in her presence. 

It’s a Friday night, and there’s a sweet sort way that she curls into herself. She’s been his friend for just about a minute longer than he’s been in love with her, and he’d like to think he does a decent job at hiding this fact.

He landed on his hip today, from a height far enough off the ground that it still hurts, pain radiating from every step as he walks home. The commute is actually quite far from his internship at the newspaper, but he likes the area he lives, and the woman whose company he keeps while he lives there. He makes concessions. 

Still, he’d been looking forward to the sight of her since the ache began. Her presence had a way of soothing. 

She’s curled up onto an inherited recliner in their shared apartment, and when he bursts their creaky door open in a fluid motion, he’s greeted with this sight. She’s not alone- some friends from her graduate program on their Ikea couch. 

It’s girls night, and it’s his dutiful role to say a quick quip and head back to his room. Her two best friends are over, legs splayed over each other in an open display of affection that he adores witnessing. He could hear the laughter and yelling from outside the apartment itself. He likes how they make her laugh, how they seem to make her heart lighter when he can tell she’s not able to carry the weight of everything by herself. 

“Peter!” She’s the first to even notice he’s around, and he tries not to let the stubborn firework in his chest keep exploding at the thought of it. At the thought, she sees me. Her voice is warm and kind and weightless, and he drinks in  the sight of her. Their floor lamp illuminates her in warm golden light, a coupe glass with red wine held in delicate fingers. 

“Hey, you,” he replies, an unmistakable warmth he can’t seem to rid himself of in his tone. He tries not to seem disappointed, like he’d not been imagining watching an irrelevant TV show, a little too close together until they’d fallen asleep just that way.

As he’s hanging his withered coat, he asks, “What are you guys up to tonight?”

Her friend explains that they are watching the Spy Kids trilogy in order, and she nods dutifully along. 

“That sounds wonderful,” he can’t help but laugh. “I’ll leave you guys be-“ 

And it’s no surprise, when they send a him a chorus of please join, and you’re welcome to be here! 

She stands up to give him a hug goodnight (because she wants to kill him), and he envelops her before he can stop himself. She smells like a mixture of lavender and rose and sweet red wine, and he’s grateful for his heightened senses for a moment; it doesn’t take long to memorize it all. 

It occurs to him that he won’t see her until morning, and he takes in the sight of her again, eyes raking over her. She really is beautiful- lovely in a way that radiates her smile, follows her in action. His hands rest on the curve of her waist, and something and things being made to fit one another cross his mind, against his better judgement. God, he could spend forever looking at her, longer touching her. 

He only pulls away when he hears a muffled pair of laughs, failed attempts at not interrupting a moment. Which is absurd, because there is no moment. None. 

She beams at him despite the laughter of those she holds dear, and it aches saying goodbye to her. She's just down the hall and it hurts to leave.

He slinks off to his bedroom smelling like her perfume, blushing bright red and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest bit hopeful. And he thinks he might of heard the faint whisper of two other people, whispering questions he mulls over every day.

"Just roommates, huh?"

[kaq3yma]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐘 featuring yoru jin

syn: what if its you that met with a suspicious guy instead of alma?

⸻ cw: brief mention of calamity/maga

qeena's brief note: my first time writing for my autistic baby yoru yaeyyyy ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- buttt im sorry, it's pretty short i dont have any idea atm so i thought i'll just feed u guys with some drabble lmaooo any gokurakugai readers or writers here??!! lets be mootsies kekekeke 🤭 that's all thank you, i love you, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated and happy reading xoxo 🩷💚🍡

You are supposedly with Alma right now but the half-maga half-human kid is nowhere to be found after he got his savory taiyaki. You tried calling for him a few times on the street, hoping he's somewhere but all to no avail.

You past by the shrine you invaded earlier that evening to notice a man waiting by the entrance. You quirk your brows in a confused manner and stride behind him silently "What're you doing?" He panicked, hands covering both sides of his head "I'm not a suspicious guy, I swear I was just looking at the blue sheet covering the-" His voice trails, noticing you in front of him "You... Do I look suspicious to you?" You mindlessly shake your head at him. You turn briefly to face the abandoned shrine, sighing "You should leave, it's not good for people to wonder around the streets at night, especially people like you." He didn't quite get what you meant by people like him but he didn't ask.

"What about you?" You look at him, popping one candy you have inside your mouth "I'm working for a troubleshooter agency, I can kick any calamity asses." He secretly shudder at the thought, taking mental notes not to accidentally mumble the truth to you. You look like a troublesome agent to kill.

"I... I don't know where to go! I'm lost!" The dishevelled hair man spewed out, tears bridge beneath his eyes that causes you to almost freak out in bewilderment "Hey, don't cry. What are you, a five year old?" He sniff back his stray tear, shaking his eyes.

You look at him, disbelief and surprised "... I got chocolate. You like chocolate?" He immediately nod his head, thanking you quietly when you give him a piece of your chocolate bar.

"Right, you shouldn't cry anymore. That chocolate supposedly block your sad emotions." You bluffed, a grin make its way to your face. Yoru's eyes widen and they gleam under the bright moon light "They do?!" Well, you didn't expect him to actually believe you but...

"I- I have to go now, good bye." He let you drag his hand forward to give him the rest of the chocolate bar before you leave him alone at the shrine. Yoru got a bright on his face and he stand there still, thoughts lingering of you.

Yomi have to hear about this!

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 is open. all rights reserved goes to @kaq3yma on tumblr.

[shokosmokes]

﹒◌﹒hockey au﹒✧﹒

hi! so this is super self indulgent based on this post i made hehe n im super excited to write this, i hope u enjoy (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

this is probably gonna be super lengthy so this is just part one lol

copy-pasted from my notes app so sorry if there’s any errors

masterlist

———————————————————————————————————

megumi x reader x yuji love triangle

tooth rotten fluff with a bit of angst

The music is loud—too loud for your taste—but you don’t really care. You’re not here for the party, not really. You’re here because you promised some new friends you’d show up. After all, that’s what people do when they want to feel like they belong, right? Pretend to be interested in house parties with thumping bass, cheap beer, and sweaty college students pressed together like sardines.

You tug at the sleeves of your sweater nervously, trying to blend into the wall, regretting not bringing a drink. At least it would’ve given your hands something to do. You scan the crowded living room, your eyes flicking over the mass of people, mind wandering until you spot a familiar face—or rather, two.

Yuji Itadori is hard to miss. His bright pink hair stands out against the dim lighting, and he’s laughing at something, his wide grin infectious even from across the room. Next to him, Megumi Fushiguro looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, his expression as unreadable as ever. The complete opposite of Yuji’s playful demeanor.

It’s funny how they balance each other out like that. Yuji, the bright, silly one who lights up every room he walks into, and Megumi, the quiet, brooding one, always watching from the sidelines. You haven’t known them long, but even you can tell they’re close in a way that most people would envy.

And yet, here you are, watching them, unsure of where you fit into the picture.

“Hey!” Yuji’s voice suddenly cuts through the noise as he jogs over to you, his face lighting up when he sees you. “You came! I didn’t think you’d show up.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of his excitement wash over you. “I almost didn’t, but I figured I’d give it a shot.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.” His grin widens, and he turns, waving toward Megumi, who’s still standing by the drinks table, looking completely out of place. “Megumi, come over here! She’s finally here!”

Megumi’s eyes flick over to you, and for a moment, your gazes lock. His expression softens slightly, but he doesn’t smile. Instead, he gives a small nod and walks over, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low but steady.

“Hey,” you echo, feeling your pulse quicken for no good reason.

The three of you stand there for a moment, Yuji’s energy bouncing between you, while Megumi’s silence settles like a blanket over the noise of the party. You feel the tension immediately. Not in a bad way, just... tension. The kind that makes your heart race for reasons you can’t quite put your finger on.

“So,” Yuji begins, clearly trying to break the silence, “have you been to any of our hockey games yet? We’ve got a big one coming up next week.”

You blink, surprised by the sudden change in topic. Hockey? Right. They’re both on the team, something you keep forgetting since you’ve never actually seen them play. It’s not really your thing, but the thought of seeing them on the ice—sweaty and focused—sends a strange shiver down your spine.

“No, I haven’t been to any yet,” you admit. “But maybe I’ll come to the next one.”

Yuji’s eyes light up like you’ve just made his day. “You should! It’s gonna be great. Megumi’s an amazing defender. You’ll love it.”

You glance at Megumi, who shifts uncomfortably under Yuji’s praise. “I’m not that great,” he mutters.

“You’re amazing, dude,” Yuji counters, playfully nudging his friend. “Don’t be so modest.”

You find yourself smiling at their dynamic. It’s hard not to get swept up in Yuji’s enthusiasm. “Okay, fine. I’ll come,” you say, laughing a little at how easily you’ve been convinced.

“Awesome!” Yuji’s grin is infectious. “I’ll make sure you get a good seat.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes on you, something quiet and unreadable flickering in them. It isn’t uncomfortable, but it makes your heart race in a way that you’re not sure you’re ready to acknowledge.

You’re not here for hockey. You’re not here for parties. But somehow, being here with them feels like it’s exactly where you’re supposed to be.

---

Later that week, you find yourself sitting in the cold, buzzing arena, clutching a cup of hot chocolate as you watch the players take to the ice. You have to admit, there’s something captivating about watching them skate, the fluid motion of their bodies gliding across the rink. Your eyes keep wandering back to two figures—Yuji and Megumi.

Yuji is in his element, grinning even through his helmet, waving to the crowd every chance he gets. His energy is infectious, even from the stands. Megumi, on the other hand, is focused, eyes narrowed in concentration as he defends the goal like his life depends on it. The contrast between them is striking.

Your stomach twists when Yuji skates by, throwing you a playful wink. He’s just so... Yuji. Bright, carefree, and completely unaware of the effect he has on people. On you.

And Megumi... God, Megumi.

Every time you see him on the ice, you feel that strange pull in your chest again. There’s something about him—something quiet and intense—that makes your heart race in a way you can’t explain. He isn’t as obvious as Yuji, but there’s a warmth to him, hidden beneath that cool, stone-faced exterior.

---

After the game, you’re surprised when both of them ask you to hang out—separately, of course.

Yuji wants to go to the arcade. Megumi invites you to a quiet coffee shop he likes, one tucked away from the busy part of campus.

You don’t know how to say no to either of them.

---

Megumi’s fingers brush yours as he hands you a book he thinks you’ll like, his gaze lingering just a little too long before he pulls back. “This one’s good,” he says softly, almost shyly. “If you’re into that kind of thing.”

Your heart thuds in your chest as you take the book from him, your hands barely touching. “Thanks,” you whisper, feeling the weight of his attention settle over you.

Megumi is so... subtle. His affection, if it’s even that, comes in quiet gestures. A brush of fingers here, a soft look there. It makes your heart race in a way that feels... different. Dangerous, almost.

But then, there’s Yuji.

---

“Gotcha!” Yuji laughs as he beats you—again—at one of the games at the arcade, his playful grin lighting up his whole face.

You can’t help but laugh with him, your heart soaring at the pure joy in his eyes. Being with Yuji feels easy, like the sun has come out and everything is just... fun.

But it isn’t just fun. Not for you.

You’re torn. Between the boy who makes you feel safe, like a warm hug on a cold day, and the boy who sets your heart on fire, unpredictable and thrilling.

You don’t know how much longer you can keep pretending that you don’t feel anything for either of them.

———————————————————————

end of pt. 1 /).(\ pt. 2 coming very soon

[lvieee]

late night things | 沈泉锐

pairing : collegestudentricky! x reader

genre : fluff

——————————————————————————

it was alredy 8.30 pm, you were about to chill in bed after doing assignments for the past 2 hours when you got a notification.

quanrui 🤍 : darlingg i sent you something, the app says that it has already arrived can you check?

you blushed at the nickname, everything this guy does can quite literally make you go crazy. you then quickly replied to his message

you : ricky?? it’s the third time this month

ricky loves sending you things randomly. it has always been like that ever since you two started doing long distance. not that you didn’t like him sending or buying you things, you just don’t want him to spend too much money on you. you then went out of your room to look at what he’d sent. you opened your front door and saw him standing there with his luggage and a bag of snacks. “missed me?” he said with a big smile on his face.

it has been 6 months since you had seen him because he now lives in another country for college. he opened his arms pulling you into an embrace. “gosh i’ve missed you” you hugged him back. you then welcomed him in “why didn’t you tell me that you were gonna come?” you asked while closing the door. “i wanted it to be a surpise silly.” he replied while taking off his shoes “have you eaten dinner?” you asked him “no..” he answered with an akward smile.

you then got an idea then told him to put his things in the room and wait for you while you change. he was confused but he decided to just go with it.

you were done changing now. you got out of your room. “were going out” you said while grabbing your wallet and keys. “aight let’s go” you say excitedly.

the night sky was aglow with bright city lights. this wasn’t what you’ve planned on doing earlier. but here you are walking hand in hand with your boyfriend. you didn’t expect him to visit you all of a sudden but nonetheless you were happy.

after about 20 minutes of walking you two reached your destination. this used to be the place where you two would hang out after school when you were still in highschool. “ooh i miss this place i wonder if they still have the wraps we used to get” he said feeling a wave of deja vu.

you two then walked around the stalls and ordered whatever you two wanted. now that all the food’s ready, you two then started eating “how’s it like there?” you asked before stuffing your mouth with the wrap you ordered. he took a bite out of the wrap “ah hot hot” he said while trying to chew without burning his tounge too much. he paused before answering cause there’s still food in his mouth. “it’s ok i guess, not much going on there honestly.” he replied while trying to blow on the food. you giggled at the sight. how could someone look so cold on the outside but is actually a big cutiepie. “oh yeah, how did the test go?” he asked you “still waiting for results” you replied.

you two then stayed silent while eating your food. when he reached his hand to your face and wiped the sauce on the corner of your mouth. “你脸红了”<you’re blushing> he said. you understood what he meant, he’s said it before. “no im not” you say while hiding your face. he then laughed.

he finished his wrap before you, then he pulled a polaroid camera out of his bag “babe smilee” . you were surprised but then posed. the polaroid came out he smiled at the pic, “hey show me it i wanna see” you say while trying to reach for the polaroid. he held it further away from you so couldn’t reach. you gave up but he then showed you the pic. “see you look like a 12 yo” he said teasing you.

you two were talking when you saw a notification come up from ricky’s phone. but that wasn’t what caught your attention. it was his background. a pic of you two when he surprised you on your birthday last year.“heyy why didn’t you send me that photo” you asked.

you then finished your food and the two of you got up to leave. now wandering around the streets at night talking, laughing, and holding hands just being happy with each other’s presence. you couldn’t ask for anything better.

——————————————————————————

note : ricky speaking chinese?? 😵‍💫

[lethalhades]

The love of an tyrant and a warrior

(hey guys, so it's been a mintue since i've wrote fanfiction so please bare with me. Im very much gratful for you taking your time to read this. also I was inspired from someone on a03 and I loved it so much that i decided to write again.)

Chapter 1: stolen breath

The universe being spared had to be celebrated, bulma’s idea of course.

 The fight was really neck to neck with jiren and goku’s battle being the most exciting anyone has ever seen. Probably won’t see for a while too, yamcha being one of those who won’t be able to. 

Knowing he wasn’t picked to join the battle for obvious reasons he still wanted to at least spectate, He was catching up with Krillin, who was animatedly recounting tales from the tournament.

“So… about that Frieza fight you couldn’t stop talking about,” Yamcha said, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

Krillin’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh man, it was hilarious! There was a fighter, his name was toppo. He completely underestimated him and Frieza ended up getting wrecked!” Krillin chuckled, looking up at Yamcha. “I never thought I’d see someone so confident get taken down so fast.”

Yamcha chuckled, imagining the scene, but his thoughts were soon interrupted by an unexpected sight across the room.

There, in the corner, stood Frieza, the infamous emperor of the universe, brooding in silence. To add to the absurdity, a party hat sat atop his head, a mockery placed there by none other than Beerus. The god of destruction clearly found amusement in Frieza’s discomfort.

“What’s he doing here?” Yamcha’s voice trembled slightly as he glanced over at Frieza, uncertainty etched on his face. He hadn’t expected to see Frieza at Bulma’s party, much less in such a humiliating state.

His friend looked over at him and said, “as scary as it is. he’s still a bad guy, but he won’t hurt us as long as Beerus, Goku, and Vegeta are here to keep an eye on him.”

Even that failed to soothe the warrior’s restless mind. Frieza felt the simmering frustration build within him, knowing he couldn’t unleash his ki energy without drawing the others' attention. The moment he considered making a move, he realized they would sense it instantly, and that thought only intensified his anger.

The notion of being so restrained, so monitored, made his fury boil over even more than it had before.

“Hey, Yamcha!” came a cheerful voice from behind him, startling him out of his thoughts. He turned to see Bulma standing there, her vibrant smile lighting up the room. The unexpectedness of her presence made his heart race for a moment, but he quickly relaxed, grateful for her familiar energy.

“You really can’t just sneak up on me like that!” he exclaimed, a teasing edge to his voice. He took a moment to steady himself, still reeling from the shock. “You almost gave me a heart attack! I know you’re fast, but come on, a little warning next time would be nice!”

Bulma chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “My bad! I just wanted to see what was going on over here.” Her playful demeanor brought back a flood of memories, reminding him of the unforgettable moments they had shared.

Even now, her presence filled him with warmth and a sense of comfort he couldn’t quite shake.

Reminded that everything they had shared was now in the past, he felt the need to push those memories deep down. “Nothing special has been happening over here,” he said, forcing a casual tone. “I’ve just been playing baseball.” 

Even though it wasn’t much, Bulma listened intently, her eyes bright with interest. They chatted for a while as the party continued to swirl around them, the sounds of laughter and music filling the air. 

Eventually, Bulma shared some surprising news. “You won’t believe this, but Frieza was revived and actually joined the Universe 7 team,” she said, her tone a mix of disbelief and practicality. She explained how it hadn’t been an easy decision, but given the stakes, they had to consider all their options. Frieza, despite his dark past, was undeniably powerful, and the team needed every bit of strength they could muster. 

“Feels like a nightmare for killin being brought to life.” Yamcha joked.

Bulma felt a slight laugh rise in her throat before she continued speaking. Yamcha found himself intrigued; the nature of their enemies fascinated him, even if it belonged to a world far removed from his own. Glancing over at the emperor, he noticed Vegeta and Frieza locked in yet another heated argument.

Their egos clashed like storms both too proud, too powerful to yield.

"They’ve been going at it since the tournament," she said with a nervous laugh, her tone almost pleading. "But honestly, I’d rather not see them destroy the planet today."

It was as if she were begging Yamcha or anyone nearby to step in and defuse the tension. But these two Vegeta and Frieza had power levels that dwarfed his own.

What could he possibly do to ease the situation?

Feeling Frieza's ki ripple through the air, prickling his skin and those around him, Yamcha knew he had to act quickly. Speed-walking over to them, he tried to keep his voice steady. “Vegeta, lord Frieza… it looks like you two have a little disagreement. Aren’t you tired after all the fighting you’ve done already?”

Both of them turned to look at him. Frieza’s gaze was piercing, radiating contempt as if Yamcha were beneath him. "I don’t need a fragile being breaking up my fights," he sneered.

Before Yamcha could respond, Vegeta interjected, crossing his arms with a smirk. “You’d better be grateful he did, Frieza. He saved you from another trip to hell.”

With that, Vegeta turned and walked away, knowing that Bulma would want him to leave things alone. Yamcha let out a sigh of relief. At least, for now, the peace was kept. Left alone with the emperor, Yamcha found himself unsure of what to do.

Should he try to make small talk, simply walk away, or keep things cordial to stay on Bulma’s good side?

Without thinking, he spoke up, a trace of nervousness still in his voice. “Uh—L-Lord Frieza, maybe you’d like something to drink? Or maybe a bite to eat?” He forced a friendly smile, though his pulse raced.

Frieza’s cold glare met him in response. “Are you trying to tell me what to do?”

“What?! No, never, Lord Frieza!” Yamcha replied quickly, his smile widening as a cover for his nerves. “It’s just…most people are in a better mood after they've had something to eat, that’s all.” 

Frieza’s stare didn’t soften, but Yamcha held his ground, hoping he hadn’t just signed his own death warrant.

“Show me to this food, peasant,” Frieza finally commanded after a long, tense silence.

Yamcha didn’t hesitate, quickly leading Frieza to the spread that Bulma and the others had prepared. There was an impressive variety, but Yamcha noticed Frieza’s gaze lingering on the seafood, especially the snow crabs, which had been cooked to perfection.

“These are snow crabs, and—” Yamcha started to explain.

“Just bring me the crabs. I want nothing else,” Frieza ordered curtly, not even glancing in his direction.

Yamcha hurriedly grabbed a plate and loaded it with snow crabs before setting it in front of Frieza. Without a moment’s pause, Frieza cracked one open effortlessly. Yamcha could only hope they’d meet the emperor’s standards. He sat down across from Frieza, keeping just enough distance to make a quick escape if things took a turn.

Frieza paused, wiping his mouth with deliberate elegance before fixing Yamcha with a cold stare.

“Hmm. Perhaps I’ll reconsider killing you,” he drawled, his tone laced with menace. “Interrupting my discussion with that Saiyan could have been your final mistake.”

Yamcha felt his stomach twist. Frieza’s animosity toward the Saiyans was as strong as ever, but he seemed aware enough of the limits that Goku or even Beerus might enforce. Still, Yamcha knew he was in dangerous territory.

“Uh—well, I’m just…grateful to still be breathing,” Yamcha managed, his smile strained.

Frieza raised an eyebrow, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips. “Grateful?” he sneered. “I would think someone in your position should be on their knees in gratitude.”

Yamcha felt a chill run through him. Frieza’s power was unimaginable, and one wrong move could turn him to dust in an instant. He’d faced powerful foes before, but Frieza was something else entirely calculating, merciless, and completely willing to wipe out anyone or anything in his way. Suppressing his anxiety, Yamcha forced himself to remain calm, hoping respect would keep Frieza’s wrath at bay.

With a flicker of amusement in his eyes, Frieza continued. “Yes…you have a certain charm,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Perhaps I’ll keep you as a servant. A tolerable price for putting up with these Saiyan apes.”

[sp4ceboo]

You're Not The Only One

A/N: my apologies for the millions of time skips, this was originally two parts but i merged it

Warnings: swearing, loneliness, self harm (with a taser and with blades), so much pain im sorry, sleep depriavtion to another level, more pain, this shit is so damn painful ok be warned,

Word count: <3500

Your eyes are drooping as you shade them against the sun. Above you, a ship so battered you're surprised it's still airborne is descending, and you reach for the cup of caf beside you, gulping down the last of its cold dregs before groaning and rubbing your eyes. You work and live alone, so no one's around to look after you, to make sure that you get some sleep, to see the burns on your forearms. As a result of your damned isolation, and the fact that their are rumours about you being the best and the fastest mechanic in the galaxy, you constantly have clients, and you constantly work on no sleep.

In fact, you can't remember the last time you had a full night's sleep.

Or half a night's sleep.

Or an hour of sleep.

Actually, excluding blinking, the last time in your recent memory that you closed your eyes was when you sneezed an hour ago because of the dust that flew off your bed as you stumbled past.

Smiling tiredly, you look up as the ship lands. You're not quite sure why your eyes can't focus on the Mandalorian's helmet as he walks down the ramp, but you run a hand through your hair and tug hard at the whispy strands to wake yourself up at least a tiny bit. Appraising the man's ship, you raise your eyebrows as he approaches, dropping your gaze to give him a once over. Somewhere in your half functioning brain, you realise that he's the itimidating type of attractive, and that if he wasn't paying you, he'd be the type you'd try to woo into bed, just for the fun of it.

But right now, even the thought of a Mandalorian in your bed doesn't break through the thick, clinging fog in your head.

'I assume you're here for repairs,' you say, forcing an echo of brightness into your voice. 'Well, I didn't come for a free blowjob,' he mutters, or maybe you imagine it. 'What?' You ask, feeling awake for once in the last seventy two hours. 'Yes,' he replies shortly, in a way that tells you, no, you had not misheard him. 'I'm here for repairs. No droids.' You huff a laugh. 'You see any droids, tin can? It's just me in this miserable hangar.' He grunts. 'Good.' You squint at him. 'Need a place to stay, Mando? I could use some extra credits.' He shrugs. 'How much?' 'Oh, just fifty credits or so,' you estimate.

He'll find that it's cheaper than any of the rates he'll find in town. For some reason, you want him to stay, either because your addled brain has taken on the challenge of wooing him into your bed, or just because his presence is filling up the room in a way that makes you grateful, because it feels like you haven't had any sentient in years. The Mandalorian tilts his head in a nod, and you smile, clapping your hands together.

'Alright then. I'll start up on your ship, and you can wander around or whatever until you want to turn in for the night.' 'Thank you,' he says. 'I'll be back by nightfall.'

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Pressing the black metal to your skin, you grit your teeth against the pain and ignore the way your muscles jump and spasm as the taser's white light flashes in your eyes. With a gasp, you drop it back down next to your refilled cup of caf. It's been a while since you took the taser out, but work has been busy recently, and you need to stay awake to get this Mandalorian's ship fixed. You're not afraid of the scars any more; it's more necessary for you to keep yourself conscious and working, and besides, the caf stopped being effective two hours ago.

A new dose of adrenaline from the pain the taser caused you streams through your system, and ignoring the smoking mark on your skin and the jittering in your fingers, you stand. The Mandalorian said he'd be back by nightfall, but the moon is high in the sky now. Something tells you that he's out hunting a bounty that gave him more trouble than he expected, so you decide to get back to work on his Razor Crest. When he landed it in your hangar, it was crumbling apart with startling speed - a panel had actually crashed to the ground when he was still twenty feet up in the air. Now, one side is already fixed up and gleaming, ridded of the awful carbon scoring slashing across the silver metal, and the other side is well on its way, the wires sorted neatly and all holes soldered up and patched.

To him, you're sure he'll see it as a miracle. To you, it's just the smell of your own burnt flesh each time you taser yourself.

You need this. You need the constant grind of work, you need your hands always full of the wiring of some ship, otherwise you'll go spiralling; the loneliness will bring you to your knees, the hollow rooms of your hangar will stare at you accusingly, your empty heart will torment you until you're screaming for it to stop. The pain from the taser hardly stings compared to the ache in your chest.

You're own heartbeat feels like a chant: alone, alone, alone, alone -

You gasp as you press the taser to your arm, the inside of your skull lighting up bright white as the energy courses through you. Blood fills your mouth from where you've bitten your tongue, and you wash it down along with the bitter taste of isolation with a sip of caf. Glancing over your shoulder as you brace yourself against the table, panting, you glimpse the silhouette of the Mandalorian as he approaches.

Shit. Did he see you taser yourself? Shame rockets through you, sharp like the edge of a knife, and you dig your knuckles into your eyes. Don't be ashamed, you tell yourself. You're just doing what he's paying you to do.

But other mechanics don't do this to themselves, do they?

No, of course they don't. Ironic, that you're alone in your loneliness. No one's there to share your solitude, because then it wouldn't be solitude, would it? No one's there to witness your pain, because then you wouldn't do such things to yourself. You'd be too embarassed, too conscious of another presence, because you don't know how to act around people who care for you any more - and the reason for that is that there is simply no one who does. Your work has become your life, the broken down ships your family, and even they leave you once you fix them. No one is even present long enough to watch your steady decline, to see the dark circles grown beneath your hollow eyes, because once you fix their ship in lightning speed, they're gone again, their bags of credits the only remnant of company.

'You're... you're fast,' a voice says behind you. You turn around with a forced smile. 'That I am.' 'It's barely been a day,' he says. 'Do you know what time it is?'

This time an edge of something like concern fills his voice. You're speechless. Maybe you're imagining it, because why would a Mandalorian, a man who won't even show you his face or give you his name, be worried about you? Stars, you're just the mechanic he hired, and forget that you're unnaturally fast, forget the damned scars littering your forearms, you're just a stranger, just a person in an orange jumpsuit smeared with oil who he could have met on the street.

'No,' you mumble. 'I don't know what time it is.'

He tilts his head, and you get the impression that he's studying you, that he's looking at you like no one has for a long time. You can't help but wonder if it's because he saw the light of your taser, and for a moment you entertain the thought that he might think you were torturing some slave you had in your cellar which you made do all your work for you. But that's ridiculous. If anyone's the slave, it's your body; the slave driver is your unrelentless mind, and you're trapped in the never ending cycle of fixing ships, drinking caf and tasering yourself until eventually, you'll drop dead where you stand. You haven't tried counting the scars on your arms - the old or the new ones - but you know that many taser bolts can't be healthy. And still, you carry on.

'Hey, you wanted a place to stay, right?' He nods. 'Yeah.' 'Right this way,' you say, gesturing inside. 'Welcome to my humbe abode, Mando.' 'You - you live here alone?' Your throat closes up. 'Yup.'

Mando looks at you again, and somehow that blasted helmet seems to convey something like empathy. It's then that it occurs to you that he's all alone too, surrounded by the silver walls of his ship and the silver slabs of his armour. Maybe he knows what it's like to feel that soul crushing loneliness... Or maybe he's just happy with his solitude, like you wish you could be. Maybe he's happy to be alone with his thoughts.

'In here,' you say, pointing into your bedroom. You'd changed the sheets, and although you don't have another bed for yourself, you doubt you'll be sleeping. 'Where are you sleeping?' He asks. 'In my room,' you lie. 'Mm,' he hums, casting his gaze around. Your room isn't specifically personalised to yourself, there are no heirlooms, no keepsakes; you've been alone what feels like your whole life, but under his scrutinous gaze, the dust on the bedside table could be your dearest possession. 'I'll go, now,' you say quickly. 'I want to work a little more on your ship.' 'A little more, or the whole night?' You freeze. 'Uh - we'll - we'll see.' You turn, pausing in the doorway, looking back at him. 'Sweet dreams, Mando.'

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The sun has been up for precisely an hour when he walks out into the hangar, looking identical to the way he looked the night before. Unruffled, cool, layered in that deadly silver armour. His gaze piercing right into you, spilling secrets you keep even from yourself, pins you down as much as it did yesterday, and you fiddle with the spanner in your hands.

'I finished up with your ship.' He cocks his head. 'And you didn't sleep.' You grow angry under his scrutiny. 'Anything wrong with that?' 'No, except for the fact I bet you haven't slept in three days.' You chuck your spanner into the toolbox. 'Whatever. I'm not some lab womp rat for you to inspect and dissect with your words, Mando.'

Striding past him, you head for the shelter of your caf maker, but he catches your wrist as you pass. Pain splinters through you as his fingers press into your most recent wounds, and you gasp, slapping his hands off you, backing away as he glances sharply towards you, head cocked at the sound of your harsh inhale. No, no, no, he can't see you like this, he can't find out about the scars on your forearms, he can't -

'What's this?'

Your world shatters. In his orange tipped gloves is your taser. Everything disintigrates then, everything you've built around yourself to hide your aching fatigue, your aching loneliness, dissolving because of two small words and a tiny gadget in a masked man's fingers. You want to collapse, to fall into the dust beneath your feet and plummet until even gravity grows tired of you. You want to smack him, to hit him, to say something, but all you do is stare. Stare and stare and stare, your eyes wide with panic.

Finally, your brain catches up, and you take a step back. 'You know what that is.' You spit. 'You know what it means, too. You know what I use it for, you know how I work so bloody fast, so don't fucking ask me what it is when you know full well!' You scream. 'Or maybe you like it, huh? You like the fact that my eyes are bloodshot and I can't stand up without a cup of caf and my fingers won't stop shaking and my head spins every time I fucking move - is that it? Do you - '

'No.'

You freeze. You look down at the cuffs of your jumpsuit around your wrists, and slowly, you pull them up to your elbows. He takes your hand in his, gently turning your arm this way and that as he looks at your scars. Half expecting him to stare at them, disgusted, in the same way that you do, but he lets go of you after no longer than half a minute, slowly opening his arms. Something like hope shoots through you, and your legs buckle as you collapse into his embrace, sobs tearing through your tired husk of a body.

You're not sure you can remember the last time someone held you. The feel of a pair of arms around you is so unfamiliar that all you can do is tremble, fingers fisting in the Mandalorian's cloak as your face instinctively finds itself tucked into his neck, your head fitting perfectly under his chin. Maybe it's ridiculous how much you're trembling, maybe the dig of his armour into your ribs should be uncomfortable, but you don't care because he's letting you lean all your weight against him, he's letting you sob onto his shoulder, Maker, he's letting you cling onto him because he's the only lifeline you have left. It feels as if you've been teetering on the edge for so long, and you only realised how close you were to falling when he pulled you to safety. When he pulled you into his arms.

Mando slips his forearm beneath your knees, smoothly lifting you off the ground as he carries you back into your room, sitting down on your bed with you still in his lap.

'I knew this was your room, you know,' he says, stroking your hair as you curl up on his lap, unable to speak. 'I knew as soon as I saw you how many hours you had deprived yourself of sleep, because I used to do the same to myself. I... I would strap viroblades under my armour, so that if I relaxed for even a moment, the feel of the points against my skin would wake me up again. I thought I was the only one who... who did that to themselves.' He sighs. 'I'm not much better now, but I - I've stopped hurting myself. It's... not healthy, you know?'

It hits you then. This Mandalorian, this man who holds you in his arms has been through what you're going through, and he's living proof of someone who got through it. Your head spins, your chest heaves, and all you can focus on are his words: I thought I was the only one.

'You're not the only one,' he murmurs into your hair. 'There are millions like you out in the galaxy. There always will be. Don't forget that.' You look up at him then, tears in your eyes. 'I - I won't.' 'Good,' he says, and you get the impression he's smiling as he tucks you under the bed covers. 'Will you - will you come back?' You ask, voice small as he turns to the door. He glances over at you. 'Sure.'

You hum, finally letting your eyes close and tugging the blankets tight around you. Mando's soft chuckle is the last thing you hear, the gentle brush of fingers on your cheek the last thing you feel before you fall into the sweet bliss of sleep.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

When you wake up, there are only three things that signal he ever dropped by. The first is that the batteries have been taken out of the alarm clock by your bedside, the second is that the remains of the taser - which has been crushed under the heel of someone's boot - lie in the corner of the hangar, discreet enough for only you to notice them, and the third is a note.

It's written in black on a crinkled piece of paper, the letters scrawling yet easily legible, extending across the expanse of yellowed white like the stretching out of a bird's wings.

You're not the only one.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You don't ever remember being so happy to see a ship. But now, as a familiar ship, glinting silver in the sunlight, touches down in your hangar, your face aches with how wide your smile stretches. The Razor Crest has been a regular appearance in the last few months, and each time it touches down, the burden you carry with you seems to disappear. Dropping the spanner in your hand, you race out into the sun as the cargo ramp lowers, not breaking your stride as you launch yourself at him, your bell like laughter ringing in harmony with his. He catches you in his arms, lifting your feet off the floor as he holds you tight to him. Squeezing your eyes shut, you relax into his grip, breathing in his scent.

'How are you?' Din asks. You smile. 'Good. Better now that you're here.'

Still looking at you, the T-shape of his visor boring into you, he reaches down and intertwines your fingers with his, lifting up your arm and pushing back your sleeve. The happiness sours on your tongue, and you look away, shame dyeing your cheeks red. Your other hand fists by your side, and you can't bear to meet his gaze as he stares down at the fresh wounds on your skin; less frequent than before, only two or three, but still, they aren't gone.

'Why did you have to look?' You whisper, your voice breaking as you pull out of his grasp. 'I want to look after you,' he answers simply. 'I want you to look after yourself.' 'Why does it matter to you, Din?' You demand. 'Why do you want that?' He pauses. 'You know why.'

You do. You heard him the first time you met - he was the first person who found out about the taser, he told you about how he kept himself awake, and somehow you still feel bitter that he had to check. Swiping tears out of your eyes, you turn away from him, waiting for him to touch your shoulder, do anything, but he just stands behind you, his presence large and expectant behind you. He's waiting for you to turn to him, because he knows you inevitably will, and for a moment, it hurts you deep inside that he knows you so intimately, knows every facet of your soul, and you spin around.

'Do you not trust me, Din?' You spit. 'Will you check my wrists every time you land your damned ship in this hangar? Because if so, get out, and don't come back.'

You stare up at him, and he towers at you, stoic and impossibly still. You feel terribly small, your words feel stupid and useless, bouncing off his beskar and lodging right back into you. The sunlight breaks through the clouds above and begins to reflect off his armour and into your eyes, and you tell yourself it's that that is making your eyes begin to water. You despise the way he's just standing there, lit by a column of golden light, as you crumble before him, the distance between you too far to cross.

'I trust you with my life,' he says softly. 'I just don't trust you with your own.'

And then he holds out his arms again, and it's like the first time. You're falling, and he's catching you, holding you tight and stroking your hair, grounding you and holding you down, keeping you from floating away in a sky of pain and sleepless nights. Whispering reassurance in your ear, he rocks you, his touch a sweet, steadying comfort.

'You're okay,' he whispers. 'It's okay, I'm proud of you, cyar'ika. I know it's hard to just stop, and you did so good, alright?' Gently, he prises you off him, holding you at arms' length and making sure you look at him. 'You know I can't destroy every single torch and whatever tools you use to solder ships,' he murmurs. 'So I want you to comm me every time you feel the urge to use them on yourself, and maybe we can keep you awake by talking together, okay?' You nod. 'O - okay.' He wipes your tears away with the back of his hand. 'I care about you a lot, sweetheart. I - I don't like to see you hurt.'

You stare up at him, his words washing over you, slowly circling in your thoughts. Sweetheart. He called you sweetheart. Your heart swells, and you curl your arms around him again, resting your head on his chest and threading your fingers through his.

'I - I care about you too, Din.'

And as he leans down, gently touching his forehead to yours, you know that under his helmet, his smile mirrors yours.

[sm-baby]

Still Alive

HEHE ON MY MINECRAFT SHIT

Word count: 1,859 words 9,861 characters

Not gonna give many things away... just.. cool concepts... angel shit.. I got a cool person to draw 👀 with that being said,

⚠!!MAJOR DISASSOCIATION/ DEREALIZATION/ EXISTENTIAL CRISIS WARNING!!⚠

this does not affect much story stuff so you can sit this one out if you struggle with that kind of stuff! You stay safe, and know that I love you <3!!

ok!! For the other awesome people that still read my indulgent bullshit, I hope you enjoyyy!! Wahh!!! \(@^0^@)/

┌──═━┈━═──┐

  Gasp!

  Eyes wide open and panting that threatened to clog his throat, Sheldon sprung awake in a cold, bright room.

  He had on a gown in white, just reaching below his knees. a light source, not made of fire or lanterns, hung from the ceiling, letting out a deafening buzzing sound.

  The walls were… white, and… unfamiliar. It was blinding.

  The room was empty, except for the strange devices in some corner, and a room behind glass high up on a wall. From behind the glass, Sheldon would spot figures with white coats, forms not far from his own.

     "⍑ᒷ----, ⋮╎ᒲ. ⊣𝙹ℸ ̣ ᒷリ𝙹⚍⊣⍑ ᓭꖎᒷᒷ!¡ ꖎᔑᓭℸ ̣ リ╎⊣⍑ℸ ̣ ?"

     " ⊣𝙹↸ リ𝙹."

  Their words were muffled and far away, he couldn't hear or understand them.

  He would call out to them, but everything about this situation made them feel like authority, and he was taught not to grab attention when taken hostage.

     " ᔑꖎ∷╎⊣⍑ℸ ̣ , ℸ ̣ ᒷᓭℸ ̣ 𝙹リᒷ ᓵ𝙹ᒲᒲᒷリᓵ╎リ⊣ ╎リ 3….2…1."

  A zombie groan would be heard from strange devices around the room, and Sheldon's immediate instinct was to look and hide, but he had nowhere to go. Adrenaline in his knees, all he could do was cower at the sidelines.

  What he couldn't see was that the figures who watched over him observed his reaction, and wrote it down on a piece of paper.

  This would go on for a few more minutes.

  They summoned an actual zombie and when he cowered, they wrote it down

  They dropped food from the ceiling and when Sheldon picked it up, they wrote it down.

  They gave him a lecturn and when he picked up a book, they wrote it down,

  They had him fall from a short drop, and when he got hurt they wrote it down.

  It was all too much, and Sheldon could barely remember any of it.

  They typed a few buttons and placed a bed. Suddenly Sheldon was tired, and when he went to sleep, they wrote it down.

He woke up and the light was blinding, more than it usually was. For a moment, he was happy to seemingly wake up from such a nightmare, only to realize that he was still asleep.

     The patient tried to sit up to no avail, his hands and legs were strapped down to the bed, though, admittedly, he put up quite the fight. He turned to his right, and when his eyes adjusted, he saw another form.

  It was a villager,

  raven hair, fair skin, and …

  Sheldon sighed mentally.

  …White coat.

     From what Sheldon could assume was a she, was tapping on buttons on a strange device. And for a split second, her eyes turned to the patient before turning back to him completely. In her eyes, surprise and almost… annoyance?

    " Oh god, you're awake." She sighed and put a palm on her face, lifting her glasses momentarily. " I could get coders to make it so it’s night but we don't have time… hm.. "

   " Wait! Where am I?? " Sheldon asked, the restraints keeping him in bed. " W-who are you??"

  The woman replied as if she answered this a thousand times before. " Im employee number 14 9 3 8 15 12 5 , but you can call me Dr. Claud. Your name is Sheldon Birch, I don't know your number currently, but you were brought to heaven because your form is no longer available, and are being tested for a new one. We're just here to see if your code is compatible. "

  Sheldon shook his head, brows heavily furrowed in confusion. She seemed to have taken note.

  " Ahh, I don't know why I bother, you'll forget this when you wake up anyway."

  " No-- wait- so… im .. dead? "

  “It's complicated. Basically, every time you die, you’re brought here for a new chance of life, but you won’t remember it in the morning. You’re still the same character, so.”

  " C.. character? Code? Hah! Oh lady you have no idea what you’re talking about." Sheldon couldn’t help but laugh, but to his surprise, her laugh seemed to have surpassed his.

  She answered so casually as if a coworker told her a little joke. “ Alright, Ares. "

Silence.

  "...How did you..? "

  " You’re not a person. You’re code. The only reason why you think you have memory is because you were written to have one.”

  “ You’re talking nonsense..”

  “ You’re talking nonsense!” She said, almost in a playful manner. “Did you really remember the wars? Or do you much clearer remember just-- waking up one day, and all those things happening in the “past”?” When she saw the disbelieved and speechless look in the man's eyes, she shook her head satisfied. It annoyed her to be called nonsensical by beings lower than her, and she was happy to wipe that sure look on his face. 

     This goes on for some time, and the woman seems to be looking over the computer to see if everything was running fine. Sheldon, however, could not believe his ears.

     “ God damn it…” Sheldon whispered to himself. “ … god damn it.”

      To think that his life was fake. All the things that happened to him, all the shit he went through, were all for nothing. The wars, his death, his injuries, the disagreements, and-- not only that-- the sorrow of losing love, life, and family, all for nothing.

     They were all not real.

      While strapped in a room he had no familiarity with, he was forced to rethink his life, questions swarming through his head and answered quickly and brutally, the doctor not even bothering to lay it easy on him; it was as if she’s dealt with this situation once, twice, tens of times before--

     And what could he do? He was forced back into an existence that meant nothing, apparently. And if he fought there would be nowhere he could go. He would be strapped down, and even if he was successful, he’d be brought back until he was ready again.

     Sheldon closed his eyes and let the restraints take him. In his shut eyes were dread and disbelief, lying softly on the bed with a loose body that no longer found a reason to fight on.

     “ If anything, Your friend fought more than you. Your identity as commander was not actually experienced, but with her, the story demands that she’s still at war. “

     “ Erma…”

     “ You got it.”

     A shaky breath escaped him. The thought of Erma being in the same situation as him, her herself being a vessel... They did not actually experience all the things that happened in their past, but they both lived as if they did.

     and with a weak breath, he asked a question, as if already knowing the answer, “ Hey. Even if things are all... fake... do you think that, at least, the love she feels for me is real?”

     " That depends on you, honestly.” The Doctor shrugged. Sheldon’s head tilted over to her, confused. Of all the things she told him that day, he was most unsure about that one.

     “ What..?”

     “When everything in your life is as fake as you are, does that make your experience any less real? " She said so casually, dropping bombs on the poor man without even looking away from the screen.

     Sheldon… thought about that response. So it seems that even the doctor didn’t have all the answers. And after a moment of thinking about it, the patient sighed and put his head down, as if a weight was lifted by her words. "... That’s a nice way to look at it, actually.. Perhaps I’m not any less real than you. We’re just… different. "

     The woman paused, and with a slow turn, looked at the patient on the bed. That was a different response from the usual.

     She shrugged it off though and turned back to her screen. "Exactly. What truly defines real or fake? Are you any different from me because your made of code and im made of skin? " She laughed. " Perhaps Im not even real. Perhaps Im just a bunch of words on a screen."

     The villager laughed, and the doctor smiled that he saw the light of the situation. And as the smile continued on her face she rolled her eyes as a relieved chuckle exited the character’s lips.

     " All my friends, Player, Erma… my son.” He almost choked on the last one. “ …They’re still waiting for me back home… "

     " Oh, Erma was an angel. Always thinking with her head, that one. Strangely she's easy to accept that all her experiences were not real. Never fought us. ‘At least no one's actually getting hurt’, she says. "

     “ Oh, Erma…” Sheldon said with a chuckle and a tear in his eye.

     In silence, the doctor’s eyes turned to him, then back to her work. “ You really made me think this time. Usually, you’d be-- a lot more defensive.” she chuckled and pointed at the restraints.

     Sheldon chuckled back,“ It seems I’m capable of change. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

     “ I suppose so…” She shook her head and finished off the last bits of code before he was officially good to go. “ It’s a shame that you won’t remember this. You were of nice company.”

     “ Oh don’t worry doctor,” He winked and then laughed, bracing himself. “ You’ll see me next time.”

     A small nod and a loading screen later,

Sheldon was generated off,

and into a familiar plain.

and the universe

said....

.

.

.

.

.

Wake up!

     Gasp!

    Eyes wide open and panting that threatened to clog his throat, Sheldon sprung awake in a dimly lit room. That's how it always was in the morning. No light would hit his face as he force his curtains shut for every time he was off to sleep.

    It was a day like any other, his son knocked at his door to make him coffee, him kissing his forehead to thank him, and invited him to join him for the morning.

    As he sat in bed and held his son, random… unexplained.. thoughts went to his head. Of all the memories he had of being a witch, one came to him that was seemingly out of nowhere.

     When his father retired from his position, he was forced to take his place, and to officiate it, he would need to have a ceremony that guaranteed a “long-lasting life”. Every coven head would need to go through one to officially take their position, and the queen as well as her late father would bless them during the festivities..

      “ a gift from heaven” they call it…

      He wonders if that was the reason why he’s lived as long as he did, if it even counted anymore, or if he even deserved it. The concept of God and Heaven, he didn’t fully believe in, but somehow…

  He’s heard that his sister would be taking his position the way he did his father.

  And he can’t help but feel like she’d be seeing them soon.

[lily-drake]

Lesson 7: Always Know Your Place

Previous

Marin: Möckel! I havent seen you in aw-

Luka: its Luka.

Marin: oh- *furrows her eyebrows, whispers in Arabic* [I thought it was Möckel..]

Luka: *hums* Möckel doesn’t exist.

Marin: you.. *tilts her head* you were undercover?

Luka: yes.

Marin: you.. infiltrated..

Luka: *smiles* yes.

Marin: *grimaces* if mother knew she would have punished me for not knowing.

Luka: *grins* good thing they never found out, huh?

Marin: how did.. *furrows her eyebrows* how long?

Luka: 4 years?

Marin: how are you still alive???

Luka: *grins viciously* killed in combat. Unit down.

Marin: *hums* quite sad they never found Möckel’s body.

Luka: *nods solemnly* yes.

_____ It’s a real experience to see someone so bright and full of life… just break and melt down in front of you.

Its a real experience to see someone you’ve loved for quite some time… just drop dead all in the span of a second.

Its a real experience to see someone’s life flash on and off repeatedly for 5 minutes until… it never turns on again.

It becomes a real experience.

Until its an everyday experience.

She hates it.

_____ Marin: i don't- it’s like my emotions are shut off. Im me but not me. Im here but not here. I speak and i listen and i see people but im not THERE. IM NOT FUCKING REAL-

Jason: Marin-

Marin: *crying* I'm not real. My emotions aren't real. Im not real. Ive never been real. Marinette is real. Alice is real. Hailey is real. All my molds are real but I'M NOT! IM NOT REAL!

Jason: Marin you are-

Marin: *screams* IM NOT!

-@bambicambi

Things seemed to actually be looking up for Marin.  It had been months since she left, and no one had found her yet!  Jason visited on an on-and-off basis, and she had felt…good!  It was a strange feeling, honestly when she first truly felt it she thought she was having some sort of panic attack.  She was fighting her own villain now with her own partner–not a sidekick, but a partner, an equal–and she was free to do ct how she pleased with no interference and no one reminding her not to kill every time she so much as twitched!  Paris had actively put a block on any information that pertained to the Akuma Attacks from being able to exit the borders so she didn’t have to worry about anyone coming here and accidentally finding her.  Mother had visited briefly one other time after their first time meeting for tea, and it didn’t end with any form of bloodshed.  Everything was looking up for her, and that should have been the first sign that something bad was quickly approaching.

Marinette had been invited to the Couffaine’s home for a concert; it surprised her when the offer was first made, but she quickly accepted.  Chloe was bragging about going to XY’s concert and how she should ditch “those losers” and come with her.  Marinette simply told her she had terrible taste in music.  Chloe had crossed her arms and looked up definitely, making a ‘hmph’ noise and angling her body slightly away from Marinette.  Marinette had laughed and bumped her shoulder against Chloe’s.  Chloe simply rolled her eyes as her lips made a small upturn.

“Whatever Dupain-Cheng, he’s #1 on record charts right now.”

“Yea, but it’s all very subjective, so let’s not argue over it.  Besides, we both know that Jagged Stone is far superior.”

Chloe felt a chill run through her at Marinette’s playful tone.  Marinette still made something in the back of her mind ring loudly in alarm, but when she looked at the girl she was just smiling at her with her hands fiddling anxiously with the strap of her purse.

“What’s wrong Chloe, you seem a little frightened.”

“Ha, frightened of what?  There’s literally nothing to fear.  It would be ridiculous, utterly ridiculous of me to be afraid.”

Chloe replied insolently.  Marin knew that Chloe could sense something from her, it had thrown her off the first time she noticed Chloe could sense her.  Afterall, she had set these molds up to be perfect, she was extremely careful with how they were formed and used.  The fact that Chloe could even feel something about her besides the happy, anxious, bubbly, and sunshine girl from her was extraordinarily impressive.  Now she would never reveal that Chloe was right to be on edge, that would be a fool’s decision, she liked to tease Chloe about it though.  Never enough to make Chloe think she’s going crazy, rather small call outs to make fun of her.  It amused her greatly to see Chloe’s reactions.

When the time came to go to the concert she was shocked to see that Juleka lived on a ship.  It made her wonder if she could convince the Dupain-Cheng’s to let her get one of her own.  She wandered around and tried to help where she could, but it seemed like everyone knew what to do besides her.  That was until Anarka came and told her to get her son, Luka, from his room.  When she got to his room and they made eye contact both stared at the other in complete and utter shock.

*

“Möckel!  I-I haven’t seen you in aw-

“It’s Luka.”

He said quickly, cutting her off.  His eyes scanned the room frantically as if someone were hiding in the shadows just waiting to attack him.

“Oh-,”

Marin furrowed her brows in confusion.  Did she mix him up with someone else?  She had heard about doppelgängers before, maybe that's what this was? Under her breath she muttered,

“I thought it was Möckel…”

Luka hummed at that and once he was satisfied they were alone, leaned back and relaxed slightly against the wall.

“Möckel doesn’t exist.”

At his words things began to click into place, because she knew exactly what he meant by that statement.  Marin tilted her head slightly as confusion and disbelief bled through her voice,

“You… you were undercover?”

“Yes.” 

He stated simply, his eyes never leaving her form showing he was on guard even if he looked completely relaxed.

“You…infiltrated…”

At that Luka gave her a bright and smug smile.  He was proud of this, he found victory from having done it.

“Yes.”

Marinette grimaced at that.  She didn’t feel too terrible for never figuring it out as no one else had either, but still.  She was supposed to be one of the best, and she failed…again.  If he was aiming to kill her or anyone else in the League, would he have been successful?

“If mother knew she would have punished me for not knowing.”

Was all she could say to his smug response.  At that his smile fell to one of sympathy and pain.  After all he had seen her punishments, they were made public for a reason.

“Good thing they never found out then, huh?”

Marinette nodded dazedly before asking,

“How did… how long?”

Marin asked, her fingers twitching at her side in frustration.

“4 years?”

He said, or rather questioned.  He and Marin had interacted a few times in the League, in fact he saw her as an almost friend in the death trap.  He had never seen her like this before, this was all Marin, but it felt like she was falling apart here.  Marin’s head snapped and she stared him directly in the eyes,

“How are you still alive?!”

She yelled almost incredulously.

Luka’s grin turned vicious as he stated,

“Killed in combat.  Unit down.”

Marin hummed at that, calming down and letting her own body relax slightly.

“Quite sad they never found Möckel’s body.”

She said almost distantly, her eyes downcast with a sort of silent remembrance in her tone.  Like she had lost something important, and even if she found it it would never be the same again.  Luka nodded solemnly, remembering the battle and how all of his comrades had died.  He was the only one to make it through.  It was the perfect excuse to finally leave, to report to his superiors so that he could finally be reunited with his family.

“Yes.”

Was all he could say as the somberness of the conversation filled the room.

*

Suddenly yelling and loud noises filled the room from the outside and the ship was covered in dark purple bubbles transforming the ship into a modified red and black medieval pirate ship.  The large round window was still there and thankfully open.  

“Come on Luka, we have to get out of here!”

She said pointing to the window.  He nodded and quickly stood up, but before either could get to the window loud footsteps sounded through the halls.  Luka opened a door under the bed and pointed to it.  Marin gulped but quickly got inside, already going into battle mode.  Luka pushed her back in and started to act like she had escaped and he was about to join her.  The door was burst open and she heard Anarka yell,

“Liberty, capture him.”

The sound of chains sounded and Möc-no, Luka’s body fell to the ground.  Once she was sure she was alone she had Plagg pull the drawer out and she took a small gasp of breath, almost choking on open air.

“Alright Plagg, it’s time to get to work.”

Plagg sighed tiredly and stretched.

“Do we have to?  I’m still tired.”

Marin smiled at her little friend and gently patted his head with one of her fingers.

“I promise that once this is over I’ll make you some Camembert Danish.”

“Deal!”

“Alright, Plagg claws out.”

She whispered, afterall, she didn’t need anyone to hear her and figure it out.  She snuck out through the window and took stock of her surroundings.  They were passing by other concerts, both large and small, and they were getting far too close to the land.

“Liberty, fire!”

She watched as the sets and everything around it crumpled and died with the canon balls.  Cries and Screams pierced the air, she felt terrible with how the familiar noises almost seemed to put her mind at ease.  Quickly she made her move, blending in with the shadows as she tried to figure out what the object that needed to be broken was.  

And just her luck, she saw Mr. Bug swinging on the opposite side of where she was, easily distracting the Akumatized victim.  That wasn’t good for long term reasons, but it was good for now.  She needed to be careful though because if she was given even an ounce of good luck, it could only mean there would be Hell to pay later.  

She quietly climbed onto the deck, keeping to the shadowed areas of the ship creeping closer and closer to where the civilians were tied together in the center of the ship.  She needed to do this carefully, she couldn’t risk being spotted by the Akuma, but she also needed the kids to talk to her in case they knew where the corrupted bug was.  She quickly glanced over and watched as Mr. Bug was able to deflect the chains with his yo-yo causing the Akuma to be even angrier than before, placing even more of her focus into catching him.  Good.  The tip of her tail began to whip side to side as excitement filled her bones.  This thrill, the life or death of it all is what she lived for.  It wasn’t a game to her, she knew how serious this was, but she had lived her entire life like this, she was far too desensitized to ever feel the fear of this line of work ever again.

She reached into her belt and pulled out three small orbs that would explode on impact, each with a different purpose.  One would be smoke, the next would be an explosive, and the last one she would be able to channel her power into without having to activate her Cataclysm.  With practiced ease she threw the explosive at the Akuma, the smoke bomb at the group of kids, but held onto the last one.  She didn’t have time to focus on the Akuma and Chat, her first priority was information, so she ran as fast as she possibly could toward the kids.

They were coughing slightly, but it didn’t matter right now.

“Do any of you know where the Akuma may be?”

She demanded as soon as she was in front of them.

“Huh, Kaus Noir!”

One of them gasped excitedly.  

“Yes, now tell me, where is the Akuma?”

“It’s the compass!  A police officer came and asked if we had a docking permit, but Mom refused to show it to them.  He kept giving her senseless tickets, and I saw it fly into the Cabin.”

Juleka all but muttered.

“Thank you, I’ll take care of it.”

Marin’s senses were on high alert as her ears perked up at the sound of chains coming straight for her.  She dodged with easy grace, grabbing her staff from its holster at her lower back and extending it.  Now out of the smoke she could see what had happened.  Mr. Bug had seemed to tire the woman out quite a bit, but she had been able to chain him to the mast.  She wore an almost gleeful smirk, her eyes bright like she had already won.

“I have your bug, and if you don’t want me to run him through, you’ll hand me your Miraculous!”

Anarka demanded while pointing her sword towards Marin dramatically.  Marin simply rolled her eyes before she threw the small ball at the chains, letting them quickly decay.

“You don’t scare me, and I have more tricks up my sleeve than you’ll ever know.”

She watched as the boy jumped, landing right next to her while swinging his yo-yo in a large circle so fast it became a shield.  She stayed next to him, letting him deflect the oncoming chains.

“What's the plan Kaus?”

He asked, not even breathless.  Maybe she didn’t give him enough credit, he’s fairing far better than she thought he would these last few weeks.  She was slowly starting to trust him, and him her, it was strange.  

“Witness said that the Akuma is in the compass in the Cabin.  If you can keep her distracted a little longer I can destroy the object.”

Mr. Bug nodded.

“I’ll separate from you, so be ready for an incoming of chains.”

With her confirming nod, he moved away, racing towards Anarka at a high velocity that can only be attributed to the Miraculous.  Marin twirled her staff in a similar manner that Mr. Bug did his yo-yo, allowing her to block the chains and shield herself.  It didn’t take long for her to reach the Cabin.  Where there was once a simple wooden door now stood a large iron door with slithering chains.  She was hidden in a dark shadow, but she could tell Anarka was looking for her.  It was a pattern, she would fight Bug for 45 seconds before she would glance around for 5.  After the third time Marin began her work, the timer ticking down in her mind as focussed her energy into one more orb, this one draining her Cataclysm only a little.  She threw the orb at the door and smiled as it disappeared into ash, but now Anarka was racing towards her, riding the chains.  Marin ran into the small room yelling Cataclysm and placing her hand against the compass.  As soon as her hand brushed the device the chains encompassed her body, but it was too late, the device was already decaying.  

“NO!  What have ye done?”

Anarka yelled, falling onto her knees as purple consumed her once more.  She watched as Mr. Bug threw his yo-yo at the corrupted creature, capturing it before releasing its purified form back to the wild.  Yes, the wild, she had placed tracks on some of the other ones and none of them ever led back to anywhere except parks and the like.  She watched as he also threw a giant pair of chain breakers into the air, causing millions of Ladybugs to fly around all of Paris, fixing all of the damage that occurred, and removing the chains from around her.  

Mr. Bug lent his arm towards her, and for once, she accepted it, letting him pull her to her feet.  He smiled at her and held out his fist.  Dick had always done something similar, he had called it a “fist pump”.  She returned that as well, he smiled brightly at her, and though she didn’t feel butterflies or anything flying in her stomach, she felt settled.  Calm.  It was a nice change of pace.

“Great job today Kaus.”

“Yea, not bad yourself Mr. Bug.”

Both of their miraculous beeped, and with one last curt nod, she ran off the boat, only to subtly arch back to land back into Moc-LUKA’S room once more.

“Claws off.”

She whispered letting Plagg fly out before hiding him back in her purse where she kept cheddar cheese, because she was not smelling like camembert. He would get lots of that back in the apartment so it wasn’t like she wasn’t meeting his needs.  Luka burst through the room with wide eyes that almost seemed frightened.  He looked scared, accusatory, and almost…guilty.

“I don’t like small spaces.”

She stated, crossing her arms, as if that’s why he was looking at her like she had done something she shouldn’t have.  

“I know, sorry.  It was the only place to hide you.”

He whispered, never leaving his spot right in front of the door.  They stayed silent for a few moments longer before he finally asked,

“Why are you here?  Who’s your target?”

And didn’t that just hurt.  It felt like she had been slapped in the face, but she didn’t let him see that.

“I’m not here for the League, I left it.  They have no control over me.  I am here because I want to live my life free of anyone.  I’m here to make my own decisions, I am not here to kill.”

She stated, looking into his eyes the entire time with a hard conviction.  He stared back at her, familiar blue, calculating eyes trying to piece together her words.  Find a hidden meaning where there was none, look for the lie where she only said her truth.  

“Very well, but if I catch even a whiff of you trying to hurt my friends or family, I will not hesitate to expose you.  I may not be able to defeat you, but I can take you down with me.”

And with that, he turned and left, leaving her alone, fists clenched and face expressionless.  She could feel Plagg nuzzling her hip through the purse, it grounded her, made her feel warm, but it didn’t take away the loathing that began to once again squirm through her entire being.

___________

Two weeks after that day Jason was staring at his little sister in shock as she told him what had happened that day.  It's a real experience to see someone so bright and full of life… just break and melt down in front of you.

* It's a real experience to see someone you’ve loved for quite some time… just drop dead all in the span of a second.

It's a real experience to see someone’s life flash on and off repeatedly for 5 minutes until… it never turns on again.

It becomes a real experience.

Until it's an everyday experience.

She hates it.  Jason hates it, especially when he has to see it every time Marinette fades away to Marin.  He loved her, they kept each other sane while I’m the League and always had the others back.  Nothing would ever change that.

*

“Möckel is alive.  He goes by Luka now.  He had infiltrated the League.”

She said, spitting out the last sentence like it was an insult to her very being.  And in a way, it was.

“I know.”

Jason stated and that had Marin snapping her head to stare at him like he was insane.  He was worried she had given herself whiplash.

“You-you knew and you did not say anything?!”

“Well, I kept a close eye on him and threatened him.  But you two were getting close and you needed another person you could trust in your life.  Didn’t want to take that away unless I had to.”

It was silent for a few minutes.  Then Marin whispered,

“Möckel was a mask.  It didn’t take control of his life.  Luka is real.”

Jason was confused and didn’t understand where this was headed.  But he was sure it was nowhere good.

*

“I don’t- it’s like my emotions are shut off.  I’m me, but I’m not me.  I’m here, but I’m not here.  I speak and I listen and I see people, but I’m not THERE.  I'M NOT F*ING REAL-“

“Marin-“

Jason said softly as he tried to take her hand in his.  She moved it away quickly and hugged herself as warm tears fell down her cheeks and a sob escaped her lips.

“I’m not real.  My emotions aren’t real.  I’m not real.  I’ve never been real.  Marinette,”

She spat the name like it was the most disgusting poison she had tasted,

“is real.  Alice is real.  Hailey is real!  All my molds are real, but I’M NOT!  I'M NOT REAL!”

Jason was at a loss for words and it hurt to see her like this.  To finally have her walls fall down around her as she sobbed.  Carefully Jason maneuvered her so that she was seated in his lap while he hugged her to his chest as tightly as he could while not crushing her.  He placed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head and whispered,

“Marin, you are-“

“I’M NOT!”

She screamed, banging her fists harshly against his chest, face buried against his neck.

*

Jason was silent, letting her have a moment while he compiled his thoughts.  He, like the rest of his emotionally constipated family, was never great with words.  He had known her for so long, so many years.  He knew so many of her molds by heart, her fears, her triggers, when she was actually happy and sad, he knew her better than Damian ever would know her.  Where Dick was like a father to Damian, the same could be said of him with Marinette.  

He had always wondered when this breakdown would happen, it was a long time coming, and now that it was here he didn’t know what to do.  He knew that she had never had the opportunity to really let herself just be, especially when she was stuck with Bruce.  It turns out that seeing Möckel, or rather “Luka”, had been the thing to finally tip her over the edge.  Jason carefully ran his fingers through her hair, gently removing the knots and running his fingers softly against her scalp.  Slowly her sobs petered down to hiccups and eventually to small sniffles.  Jason was very happy that they were in one of his safe houses instead of the bakery for this conversation.

“Marin, and yes, I mean Marin, please listen to what I’m saying.”

A pause,

“I promise you, that you are not fake.  I have known you longer than Damian has, better than anyone ever will, or at least that’s what I’d like to believe.  I know who you are, you are strong, resilient, fierce, a bit of a prankster, a smartalec, and a little s*.”

“So you admit it,”

Marinette sniffled with a small chuckle.

“I am a little s*.”

Jason smirked and rolled his eyes at that.

“Yea, I admit it, you really are.  But, in a good way, because your my Little S*.”

“You really believe that Marin is real?”

She asked hesitantly.  Jason gave her a small smile and ruffled her head, earning a sharp slap.

“Of course.  I know for a fact this isn’t a mold, a facade, this is what you really feel.  This is all Marin, no one else.”

“Jason.”

She muttered,

“Hmm?”

“I’m tired.”

“I believe you.  Why don’t you take a break.  I’ll text Sabine and Tom if you want to spend the night.”

“Yes please.”

“Alright.  I’ll do it when you're ready, and don’t you dare force yourself.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Next

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[t4t-apexeclipse]

Solar Eclipse

Chapter Three: The Eye of the Beholder

im reposting this chapter because the first time i tried to post it it glitched out and im going insane over it jshdjfjfk

Summary: In a drunken stupor, Janus confesses to Patton that he's in love with both Roman and Logan. When things spiral out of control from there, how will he keep his feelings in check?

Characters: Janus: Patton, Roman, Logan

Pairing(s): endgame roloceit, current logince and focus on janus’s feelings for logan and roman

Warnings: some light crying but i think that’s it, lemme know if i missed something!

Word count: 1,661

~

Janus was the first to excuse himself from breakfast, trying very hard to hold it together until he was alone. Once he made it to his room, he locked the door and disabled the ability to rise up or appear. He didn't need to be checked on, he needed to be alone.

He wasn't one to cry when he was upset, but he wasn't sure what else to do in this situation. He lowered himself onto his bed, wrapping his arms around himself as tears rose to his eyes.

Why did it hurt this much? He already knew they'd never love him back. This was just confirmation that he was right. He should feel proud of himself for being right.

Sometimes he really fucking hated it when he was right.

There was a knock at his door. He had a feeling he knew who was there.

"Um, Janus?" Patton's small voice called through the door. "I know you're probably really upset right now, but I just... I wanted to check on you. See how you're doing."

Janus said nothing.

"Janus—?"

"Go away, Patton," Janus snapped, embarrassed at the way his voice cracked.

"Are you sure you don't wanna talk?"

"There's nothing to talk about, just leave me alone."

A long silence passed. "Let me know if you need anything."

Several minutes passed before Janus decided he'd had enough of this room.

He grabbed his easel and a canvas as well as his pack of painting supplies. He went through his door and headed down the hallway to Roman's side of the Imagination. He went through the door and began his search for the perfect muse.

There was a lovely little pond near the entrance with Roman's castle perfectly in the background. It was perfect.

He set his easel down and set the canvas on it. He took a look at the view, making sure he was in the right spot. He moved the easel a bit to the left. Excellent.

He began his process of painting, finding his stress melting away with every stroke of his brush. He spent an hour painting, and was making decent progress. He dipped his brush in the water to switch colors when a voice interrupted him.

"I didn't know you could paint."

Roman being in the Imagination shouldn't have been a surprise, especially since this was his side of the realm. However, it caught Janus off guard regardless, and he nearly jumped out of his skin as he whirled around to face him.

He cleared his throat. "I can, yes. Have I never told you?"

"Not that I recall. How often do you paint here?"

"Here, not terribly often; I do my best work here, so I save it for times that I could really use a pick-me-up."

"Ah, I see. Still recovering from that hangover I take it?"

"It's almost passed. I thought painting would be a nice distraction."

Roman looked almost sheepish. "I didn't mean to interrupt your distraction. Apologies."

"Quite alright. Actually... if you're not busy, I wouldn't mind the company."

Roman grinned. "As much as it would honor me to watch you work, I'm actually here with a purpose; I'm setting up a little date night with Logan."

A spear went through Janus's heart.

"I'm so excited to be able to say that now," Roman said with a bright smile. "A date with Logan. My boyfriend, Logan. My boyfriend, oh, be still my beating heart."

The spear twisted in his chest.

"You're lucky to have one another," he said, hoping that wouldn't reveal the true meaning behind his words.

"Thank you. Well, I must bid you adieu, but I do wish you luck with your painting."

Janus forced a smile. "Thank you. I wish you luck on your date."

"Thank you. Farewell, Janus."

"Farewell, Roman."

Roman headed off to wherever he was headed off to, leaving Janus with his painting in progress.

He looked over the painting, certain he would only need another hour to finish it.

He took a deep breath, and dipped his brush in the paint.

The next hour came and went, and Janus was left with only the finishing touches. He noticed Roman coming back from wherever he'd been, and he smiled when he met Janus's eyes.

"Still at it, I see!"

"Not for much longer, I'm afraid."

Roman came up and inspected the painting as Janus added the last details. He took a step back and looked over his finished work.

"What do you think?" Janus asked apprehensively.

"This is gorgeous," Roman praised with a smile. "The influence of the impressionist movement is so inspired."

Janus smiled rather brightly. "Thank you. I don't know if it's obvious, but I take a lot of inspiration from the likes of Van Gogh and Monet."

Roman nodded. "I can see it. The impasto of Van Gogh in the grass, the way it captures light in the manner of Monet's works. Truly a masterpiece."

Janus wanted to kiss him.

"I... I have other paintings."

Roman turned to smile at him. "Can I see?"

Janus and Roman carried Janus's painting supplies back to his room. Once everything was in its place, Janus led Roman through the door to his gallery.

He had created a gallery for his paintings when he ran out of room on his walls. With Remus's help, of course. He had been painting for many years, and most of his paintings were of Thomas's memories.

Roman looked around the large white room in awe. He had the biggest smile on his face, and Janus was so proud to be the one to put that smile there.

He was so helplessly in love.

"How long have you been painting?" Roman asked breathlessly.

"Oh, you know... do you remember when Thomas went on that field trip to the art museum?"

Roman whirled around to look at him in surprise. "You've been painting since Thomas was in third grade?"

Janus shrugged. "You know... I dabble."

Roman's smile faded. "I remember that field trip. I tried painting, too. Tried to get Thomas to paint. After a week, I gave up. I wish I'd kept at it."

"I could teach you," Janus blurted out without thinking.

Roman brightened up again. "You could? I mean, you don't have to. I mean, it's no big deal, really. I just—"

"I would be delighted to."

Roman smiled again. He looked around at the paintings on the walls. "Are these... Thomas's memories?"

"They are. I've... on occasion, snuck into the Library, swiped a book of memories, and painted what I saw. Especially when Thomas formed a particularly happy memory. Those are my favorite ones to paint."

Roman looked at him again. "Can I show Logan? I think he'd love to see paintings of Thomas's memories."

Janus smiled. "Sure."

Roman went and got Logan, leading him into the gallery with his hands over Logan's eyes. Janus chuckled a little at the sight.

"Are you ready?" Roman asked.

Logan sighed, but smiled. "Roman, you're being ridiculous."

"I know. Alright... behold."

He removed his hands from Logan's eyes, and Logan adjusted his glasses as he took in the paintings. For some reason, this made Janus more nervous. Perhaps because Logan had never seen his paintings before, and now he was faced with all of them.

"Janus," Logan said breathlessly. "Did you paint all of these?"

Janus cleared his throat. "Well, if you like them, then yes I did, but if you hate them, then absolutely not."

Logan rolled his eyes, his smile widening. "Of course I like them. They're very impressive."

"Thank you." Janus thought for a moment. He might regret it, but he wanted to show them. "Would you two like to see... my very first painting?"

Roman and Logan both perked up.

"I would love to," Roman said with a smile.

"As would I," Logan agreed.

"Follow me."

Janus led them through the room, towards the back. The room was massive, so it took a minute or so to get there. In the back, there was a door labelled "keep out" in bright red. Janus stopped and turned towards Logan and Roman.

"This room... well, it's where I keep all my earlier work. Basically, all the paintings I hate. I don't want to display them, but I couldn't bring myself to destroy them, so they... sit back here and gather dust. I... I don't expect you to be impressed, I just... you deserve to see my first."

Both their expressions were unreadable and Janus couldn't stand it. He turned back towards the door and took a deep breath. He opened it and turned on the light.

Most of the paintings in this room were propped against the wall and stacked on top of each other. There was one, however, that was hung on the wall opposite of the door.

A childish painting of a person outside in the grass. A little boy with short brown hair, brown eyes, and a big smile. The boy was labelled "my person". There was some kind of bird painted beside him, and Janus remembered it was supposed to be a goose.

"Is that...?" Roman began.

"Thomas, yes," Janus confirmed. "From that day in third grade. That field trip to the art museum. Everyone went outside for lunch, and Thomas spotted that flock of geese. He chased after them, and of course, being geese, they scared him off. Then Joan came up and punched one of the geese in the face." Janus chuckled at the memory.

"When Thomas and Joan first became friends," Roman recalled.

Janus nodded. "Yeah."

They all stood there in serene silence. Janus found himself smiling. It was nice revisiting this painting. He often considered repainting it in his current style, but something held him back.

The three of them soon left the gallery. Logan and Roman departed for their date in the Imagination.

Janus had almost forgotten about why he'd started painting today in the first place.

[brokenhardies]

Ignorance Is Not Bliss Prologue Update

alright! an updated prologue! keep in mind this is still a draft, but im happy to get it sorted. under the cut is a preview of the arcana swap au for persona 4 (set in the same universe as Break In To Break Out) featuring fool!naoto, hierophant!eri, justice!yuuta and aeon!yu. word count 1241

@latenitewaffles, @inkwell1013, @mushroomfusion245 @rollthedice-playthecards @thehedgehogat221b @sterling-writes @wonderguards @hobie-doh

Naoto Shirogane didn’t like trains that much. The long ride from Sendai down to Yasoinaba bored him immensely - the only thing he could do was scroll through his phone and listen to gossip about a local member who was having an alleged affair with a news reporter. He frowned; he wasn’t even sure where he was going, but was surprised when he’d received a text from the woman who would be taking care of him - at least, until his grandfather recovered;

Eri: Yuu-kun and I are waiting outside Yasoinaba Station

Eri: Text me when you arrive, okay?

Naoto: I’m on my way - I think it’ll take about 15 minutes

Eri: All right then! See you!

The train pulled into Yasoinaba Station, and Naoto sighed. He was here for a new beginning; that was what it was. A new beginning that resulted in him being forcibly moved from his hometown just as he was coming into his first year of high school. It was a completely sudden change, however, he couldn’t exactly fight it. At the end of March, he was taken out of Sendai and moved to a ‘family friend’ - Eri Minami, a woman who had been close to Naoto’s mother.

She’d also been forcibly moved from the city - following a divorce from her husband - alongside her son Yuuta - the Yuu-kun that she referenced in the text. So, she could relate to Naoto’s struggles moving from a big city to a small town. Naoto’s train of thought delayed somewhat as he left the train, with nothing but a small bag of luggage, with clothes and important items. He placed his hat back on, and sighed as he looked in his reflection in the windows of the train that was leaving.

It was strange, actually going to a place that recognised his gender… But it would work, after all, new beginnings and all that. He left the stairs at Yasoinaba Station, and was immediately greeted by his new legal guardian.

“Good morning, Nao-kun!”

Eri Minami was a tall, slim woman. She was probably in her mid-30s, Naoto assumed. She had wavy brown hair tied into a low bun, fair olive skin, and wore a simple, pale pink undershirt tucked into a pair of burgundy trousers, paired with a pair of magenta-coloured slippers. Over her undershirt was a matching burgundy peacock coat, stitched together with a deep purple ribbon. Naoto waved at her, picking up his luggage with a muted apology.

“How was the trip?” She asked, “It’s quite hard travelling such a long distance. I’m Eri Minami, by the way, but I think you already understand that.”

“It’s nice to meet you in person, Minami-san.”

Eri laughed. “Please, no need to be so formal! We’ll basically be family for the next year.”

Naoto noticed that standing awkwardly beside her was a brown-haired boy, who appeared to be about 5 or 6 years old at most. The boy hid behind Eri’s pant leg, looking down awkwardly. Eri smiled.

“Yuuta, this is Naoto,” She greeted, “Naoto, Yuuta. You’ll basically be brothers for this year.”

“Wow, must be weird hearing that for the first time, huh?” She grinned. “Don’t worry, I got the information from your grandfather before you arrived here. It might be a struggle to get binders, but you can always ask someone to make them, I guess?”

Naoto nodded. It did seem quite difficult, but Eri seemed to be helpful. She began to walk off to her car, Yuuta in tow, and Naoto was about to follow them, noticing an individual who was walking up to the station — a tall, tan skinned young man, with a grey bowlcut, wearing a black jacket over a grey turtleneck, matching grey pants, a pair of bright yellow headphones around his neck and yellow sneakers.

As Naoto was about to leave, he heard the young man call out.

“Hey.” He said, as Naoto faced him. “Is this yours? You dropped it.”

The young man walked over with a small sheet of paper, which Naoto recognised as his handwritten version of Eri’s address. He paused, blinking.

“Thanks?” He said, as the young man nodded.

“I’ll see you around, stranger.” The young man said, walking off.

Naoto paused. What a strange encounter. It seemed like this would be normal for Yasoinaba going forward…

xxx

They had to stop before going to the Minami house, mostly as Yuuta needed to go to the bathroom. The Moel Gas Station was the best stop, and it also meant that Eri’s white SUV could also get a slight pick-me-up. After letting Yuuta out to go to the bathroom, Naoto noticed Eri step out and have a conversation with the gas station attendant, as Yuuta stood in confusion.

“Bathroom’s in the back, to your left,” The gas station attendant helpfully informed Yuuta, “You know which way’s left? The side you don’t hold your chopsticks in.” 

Yuuta nodded, seeming quite frustrated that this person saw him as being a child - which he was. But it didn’t matter - being raised by a single mother probably meant that he felt more mature for his age. Naoto understood the feeling. Naoto left the car, watching Eri and the gas station attendant's conversation continue.

“So, are you guys goin’ on a trip?” They asked, as Eri shook her head.

“No, we just went to pick him up,” She gestured to Naoto with her head. “He’s living here for a year. He moved in from the big city.” 

“The city, huh?” The attendant asked, raising a brow as they looked at Naoto. 

“I’m gonna go check out some stores while I’m waiting,” Eri said, “Same as usual, okay? I’ll tip you real good.”

The attendant nodded. “Thank you, Minami.”

Eri walked off, leaving the gas station attendant next to the SUV and Naoto, standing there awkwardly in wait for Yuuta.

“So, does it surprise you how little’s around here compared to the big city?” The attendant asked, “There’s not that much to do. I think you might get bored, going through the same grind over and over - meeting friends, doing part-time jobs…”

They gave Naoto a wry smile that he could feel in his bones. It didn’t seem like a typical customer service smile, but something much more mischievous and impure. They walked towards them, and a small part of Naoto felt inclined to just race off. However, he didn’t want to appear like an ‘impolite city slicker’, nor did they want to startle Eri or Yuuta. 

“Speaking of which, we’re looking for part-time help right now,” The attendant explained, “Give it some thought, won’t you? We won’t mind if you’re a student.” 

They extended their hand, and Naoto shook it. Suddenly, he felt a strange feeling overtake him. It was like his body was ricocheting back and forth - like he was on a strange rollercoaster that he just couldn’t get off. It was uncomfortable, even as he noticed Yuuta leaving the bathroom and watching him stand, silent, overwhelmed as the attendant went back to work on Minami's car. He looked at Naoto, eyes wide.

“Are you okay?” He asked, “You didn’t get sick in the car, did you? Eri’s a pretty bad driver…”

Maybe it was just car-sickness, Naoto thought. Oh well, it didn’t seem to matter, especially as Eri seemed lost in her own little world. He had a few minutes to recover before she got back. Once Eri got back, they continued driving off to the Minami house.

[pleasecallmenicole]

I found this out by seeing my winter recap btw. Im just gonna summarise this because it will be fun to look back on in a while.

Hell yea Takamachi Walk is up there. Due to my own horrible listening habits I haven't fully finished their recent album Remnants, but from the songs I heard this ablum is GREAT. Bruh I had no clue how nice a voice noaon had until I heard How Bright You Burn, he sounds lovely. Went relistening to a lot of their stuff just due to Remnants release. Honestly great group to listen to if you like depressing metalcore.

Not sure why Akatsuki Records is 2nd, they generally are a consistently good group to listen to touhou stuff. Probably the new tracks I found from them. Surprising how the Protomen are up there, thought I stopped listening to them after listening to them every thime in the summet, but I guess The Stand is just that great of a track. Aviators is there I believe due to finding out about his bloodborne song along with my soulsborne fixation at the time.

Ah, chop suey. A song I manged to listen on repeat like 90 times at this point. I'm not that familiar with System of a Down but Im really glad to be recommended this song because it slaps HARD. Hopefully after taking a break to it it will still be as great as I remember.

This song alone is actually probably why Akatsuki Records is on here. Shoujo Kyuseiron is such a nice track to play, especially if you know what the lyrics mean. I'm just a sucker for generally upsetting music. Kept imaging how english lyrics for this would sound.

Really glad to see Mad Hatter on here too. Masters in France are a very small band which I don't even know if they still make music anymore. Due to my own poor listening habits this is the only song I know from them, but its with reason. Its just a great song, like straight up. Its really catchy, I love how the chorus is sang and the instrumentation sounds great to me. It sucks that they couldnt get bigger, as this song is like 12 years old, but Im still glad to appreciate their work nonetheless. Its funny how I found this track, as it was a randomly played song in this weirdest dnd-like web game ever, that experience was weird but led to finding this little gem of a song.

I already mentioned the previous two songs. How Bright You Burn I think is a great openibg track for Remnants, especially the switch up with the voices. Not that Un3h or seafoam are bad, they're are amazing, I just never noticed how fine noaon sounds. Really makes me wish I showed this band to my ex. No One Will Save You is also a great bloodborne song, slow and atmospheric, the term gothis rock fits it nicely. Aviators always out here singing with his nicest voice.

Idk what live performance is meant to mean in terms of the recap, but I did listen to this song quite a bit. Just one of those moments where an old song comes back into your head and you gotta relisten to it.

This really shows I listened to a lot of Takamachi Walk during the winter. The percentages makes this look quite small though.

The playlists here are just confusing. Some info is censored simply due to the fact it involved people I know personally. But really the only playlist that makes sense here is the first one, as I use that to save a lot of the songs I listen to. Everything else I hardly used during then, they are simply for categorization.

I don't get this either. No clue why Evelyn Evelyn is one, or why RUSH EFFECT is there when I hardly listened to it, and no clue why Remnants isn't there due to how much I did listened to it. I'll just take this as youtube being weird.

Ultiamtely a nice table to show the stuff I listened to in winter. I can't wait for springs one to show me how much I've listened to Kick Back. Thats all I can say about it ig.

Apparently youtube does seasonal recaps of the music I listened to which I didn't know about, but hey its something fun every couple of months

[bakugostiddies]

Please god do a villain!au with Todoroki 🧎‍♂️ I usually don't like those but omfg with him it would totally work

Absolutely. This turned into a 4k word fic, but I am too attracted to this man to be ashamed.

Icarus | Todoroki Shouto x Reader

Warnings: eventual smut, temperature play, impact play, kind of dub-con but not really, degradation, praise, villain!au, corruption kink, no gendered terms but reader has a vagina and breasts.

NSFW | 18+

You had fucked up.

The room was dark and dank, eerily quiet save for the sound of your breathing. You looked around frantically, struggling to break loose from the bonds that held you. Shit. Shit. Shit.

As your eyes adjusted, you noted that there was a door ahead of you, a steel one with two deadbolt locks. You could feel a metal chair beneath you, rattling each time you moved even slightly. Your arms and legs were restrained by some sort of extremely strong fabric, but your mouth was unrestricted. Shit. Shit. What was Endeavor going to say? You were still just his sidekick, but this was your first big operation and you blew it completely. He would kill you when you got back, you just knew it. Endeavor took his temper out on you even when you did well, which meant you had no clue what he would do to you after a fuckup this bad. Shit.

Calm down, Y/N, you told yourself mentally. You were safe and unharmed, so maybe they just wanted information. You attempted to activate your teleportation quirk, but it didn’t work. What happened? You could feel yourself beginning to hyperventilate. You didn’t want to die here, after being kidnapped by some asshole who wouldn’t even fight you face to face.

“If you’re wondering why you can’t use your quirk, we just took it away for a while.”

A voice emerged from the shadows of the room, soft and almost velvety. You flinched. You hadn’t even realized someone was here. How could you have missed something so obvious? You felt like a shitty fucking hero.

“Who are you?” You said after a moment.

“Im surprised you didn’t recognize me. Well, I suppose it is a bit dark in here.”

And suddenly with the flick of a match, the voice became a man and the shadows around the room came to life. You swallowed harshly, all of the moisture in your mouth gone. The man stalked towards you with a sureness of a predator and stopped a few feet away from where you were sat in the metal chair. You looked up at his two toned hair, his strong, rugged figure in the flickering light. He wore a suit not too different from that of a hero’s, but he was tinged with scorch marks and small icy spikes. He looked like he was made of fire.

“Well?” He said it softly, but there was a hint of malice in his tone. “Who am I?”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, your body almost paralyzed with fear. You knew who he was, of course you did. He was the one who helped blew up that building on the case you were on a month ago. He was the one who ambushed those (kind of sleazy) businessmen on their way to a cartel. He was the one who’s name was whispered in fear and awe on the nations’ streets. He was standing right in front of you, looking… bored?

The man sighed and fiddled with his match. “Hurry it up, hero, I don’t have all day.”

You spoke almost inaudibly. “You’re Icarus.”

He smiled slightly and a chill ran down your spine.

“See? That wasn’t too hard.”

He moved a bit closer to you and leaned down, his heterochromatic eyes almost level with your own. A single gloved hand moved to touch your chin with his thumb and index finger, moving your head from side to side with a feather-light touch. You hoped he couldn’t feel how scared you were, how your body seethed and rejected his very presence.

He finally released your face and you let out a sigh of relief. Icarus removed a single glove and touched his fingers gently to the match. It went out without smoke or a flicker, just a gentle hiss of frozen silence. The room was dark again, and he was moving, knocking on one of the walls.

“Turn on the lights, Red Riot.”

Your eyes widened. Red Riot? Wasn’t he the pro-hero who became a villain after Dynamight? Holy shit, was Dynamight here? Icarus interrupted your train of thought as the lights flickered on almost menacingly. You noted your surroundings carefully, seeing a bed in the corner, a small table, and another chair. The room looked less like a prison and more like a shitty motel suite.

“Do you know why you’re here?” He sat down in a chair across from you, leaning forward with his arms on his thighs and his legs spread slightly.

“I don’t know, Icarus.”

“Heres a hint; it has something to do with your boss.”

“Endeavor?”

You could feel bile rushing up your throat but you swallowed it down. The man before you clenched his jaw rigidly, as if it pained him to hear the name, but returned to normal so quickly you might have imagined it.

“You’re a bright one. Yes, hero, the very same. And do you have any idea on what he’s planning to do, say, sometime in the next six months?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

His tone was harsher now and he got out of his chair, moving closer to you again. You felt so small under his scrutiny, yet drawn to him like a moth to a flame, like Icarus himself to the sun.

“You see, I’m the only reason you’re alive. And if you want to keep your pretty little head-“ he circled around behind you- “you will listen to what I say.” His voice was barely a whisper in your ear, and your voice hitched in your throat.

“Do you understand?” He asked, straightening up.

“Yes.”

“Yes, sir.”

This was so goddamn humiliating, like your first day working with Endeavor all over again. With him, it was always a yes, sir, no, sir, please don’t make me work weekends, sir. But you swallowed your pride again and spat it out.

“Yes… sir.”

“A hero that obeys commands, what a find,” he said tauntingly. “But you could stand to lose that attitude.”

You wanted to slap him, to beat him up to the point of him being bruised and bloody and broken and then have him call you sir instead. God, if only you could teleport out of these fucking restraints-

“You’re thinking about using your quirk, correct?” It was like the asshole could read your mind.

“You can’t. Aizawa Sensei took yours away. You know him as Eraser-head.”

Fuck, Eraser-head was here too? All of the biggest villains were gathered here together and you- you could do nothing.

“So I’ll ask you again. What are Endeavor’s plans?”

At that moment, you made yourself a promise; that you would not let Icarus win. Little did you know that you would break that promise a thousand times over.

———-

Two days later:

———-

“Did Endeavor tell you about the attacks?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come on now, you can tell me. I won’t hurt you.”

“...”

“Still no response? No matter, I have time to get it out of you.”

———-

Seven days later:

———-

“Still not talking, hero?

Look at that, the silent treatment.

I never thought an adult could be so petty. Just tell me where I can get more information.

Nothing?

Okay. Eat your soup, I can’t have you dying on me before you start talking.

And hero? You will have to open your mouth sooner or later.”

————

16 days later:

————

“Cut the bullshit, hero. We know he has plans for a big attack sometime during the next six months, so either Deku is wrong, or you are lying to my face. And Deku’s never wrong.”

“Well, I guess he’s wrong this time.”

“Then I guess we’ll return you since this has all just been one big mishap.”

“Really?”

“No. You aren’t the smartest, are you?”

“Maybe my brain will somehow recall something about this totally real attack you think is happening if you give me better food?”

“Don't be a brat, hero. I wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble if I had known you would be so inconvenient.”

“Whatever you say, sir.”

————

20 days later:

————

“Thanks for the bread, sir. It's quite an upgrade for a kidnapped person’s shitty meal.”

“You have low standards, hero.”

“Hey, why do you call me that?”

“What, hero?”

“Yeah. I have a name, you know. It's-“

“I know what your name is.”

“Okay, Jeez. If you knew it, then why not use it? Plus, I’m not even a hero yet. I’m still technically just a shitty sidekick who’s totally blown it on my first solo mission. I’m never going to be a pro at this rate, I might as well just give up.”

“I think you’re good.”

“What?”

“I said, you’re powerful and good at using your quirk. You have a lot of assets and it’s a shame your talent is wasted on Endeavor and the fools at the pro-hero agencies. It was difficult to actually catch you off guard, to get past your guards, to make sure your quirk was out of commission. And we are very strong.”

“Oh. Um, thanks, I guess?”

“Don’t thank me, hero. I’m just stating the obvious.”

————

25 days later:

————

“Why is your name Icarus?”

“It's not my real name.”

“Well no shit, dude. I'm asking why you chose it.”

“Icarus was a boy who followed his father’s instructions perfectly, but the moment he strayed from the path set out for him, he was punished, scalded by the flames of the sun, and cast away. But I think it was worth it for him in the end.”

“Why?”

“Because he was free. Because Icarus flew, and he was able to be his own person, even if it was just for a moment.”

“Do you feel like Icarus?”

“Most of the time I do, yes.”

“Sir?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think that right now, you’re flying or cast away?”

“At this very moment, I think I am flying.”

“You know what? I think so too.”

————

29 days later:

————

“So what’s your real name, sir?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?”

“Classified. Also, I don’t need you to know my name.”

“But you know mine!”

“That's because you’re a prisoner, in case you’ve forgotten. You are almost unnervingly at ease here.”

“I’ve met three people so far and you have all given me no reason to fear.”

“Really? Not even Dynamight?”

“His hair makes me laugh. Plus, I can’t take airheads with overinflated egos seriously.”

“I agree with that assessment wholeheartedly.”

“You agree with my assessment- Sir, you sound like an old man.”

“I’m only three years older than you, you know.”

“Really? But you have all of these wrinkles?”

“I do not have wrinkles.”

“Fine, frown lines then.”

“That makes it sound like I don’t smile.”

“Well, you don’t!”

“It’s hard to find things to smile about.”

“God, you’re such an Edgelord.”

“What do you mean by that? hero, stop laughing.”

“You are definitely an old man.”

————

30 days later:

————

There had been a new development a couple of days ago in the kidnapping situation. You could feel your quirk again, which meant a lot of things. It meant you weren’t here against your will anymore, that you were free to go. Yet you remained. You still stayed in the same room with Icarus checking in on you in the afternoons. However, it had been given furniture- a desk and more comfortable chairs, a small rug on the floor, and thicker blankets. It was almost like you weren’t even a prisoner anymore. You could always leave, you reasoned. You could teleport out of here. Your quirk was back, and yet you stayed.

The other villains had taken a liking to you for reasons beyond your comprehension, but all it meant was that you were never short on company. Dynamight would burst in to complain about how Deku always got the best missions, Red Riot would bring in a deck of cards and the two of you would play go fish or bluff, even Deku would occasionally check up on you and make sure you were comfortable. But your afternoons? They were always set aside for your favorite visitor- Icarus.

...

“You haven’t answered my question about your name yet.”

You were sitting on the cot in your almost room, feet dangling off the edge and swinging back and forth. Icarus was sitting on his chair again, but lazily, with his arms locked behind his head and his legs precariously balanced against the edge of the bed.

“You haven’t answered any of my questions since you got here, so I don’t believe you have a right to complain.”

He was right, of course. He always was. But technically, he was equally at fault in this case. He was the one who sucked at interrogation, so much so that you took pity on his colleagues. They would have to deal with his lack of results.

You weren’t complaining, however. You enjoyed talking to him, looking at him, being in his presence. It was a stupid crush to have, but you didn’t care. He was beautiful to look at, the way his biceps curled behind his head, the lean toughness of his body, the sheer strength he possessed. Your eyes trailed down his sprawling figure, tracing each indent and dip and curve of his skin in your mind.

“Are you finished staring at me?” His words jerked you out of your stupor and you felt heat rushing to your cheeks.

“I-I wasn’t- I didn’t-“ you babbled until he stopped you.

“Don’t worry, it’s only natural to find me… appealing. You haven’t spent time with anyone else for a very long time.”

You almost screamed on the spot, burying your face in your hands. You peeked out between your splayed fingers to look at him, seemingly unbothered save for the slight pink tinge hidden beneath his bangs.

“How can you say things like that, sir?”

“Like what?”

“Uhm, never mind.”

You wanted the ground to swallow you up whole. He was so, so dense, it was a wonder he even noticed you basically eye-fucking him. You felt the cot creak beside you and a slight dip in the weight. Icarus had seated himself beside you on the small bed and was looking at you with eyes full of concern.

“I did not mean to shame you for your gaze, hero.”

He said it gently and kindly. It would be almost romantic if not for the situation you were in. You remained silent, so he continued.

“I believe it is normal for you to feel this way towards someone who has been in such close quarters with you for so long a time. You should be glad that you still have these urges.”

You suppressed a groan. This felt like having the sex talk with your parents all over again. “Sir-“

“-in fact, everyone feels them!”

He was rambling, oh god you needed him to shut up-

“I feel them for you all the time, and I’m completely normal.”

And suddenly, the air changed between you into something charged and heated.

“You… have urges around me?” You wanted to hear him say it again, just once, but he turned away from you, tensing up and rising from his seat awkwardly. His face was stony and his hair covered his eyes like bicolored curtains. There suddenly was space between the two of you, some insurmountable gap that could not be bridged.

“I apologize deeply. I have misspoken.”

“Sir, wait, you don’t have to leave!” You cried out as he made his way to the door.

“But I do. You don’t deserve this treatment, and it is cruel of me to hurt you in this manner.”

And that was when something broke within you, something that had been holding you together this whole time.

“No.”

He turned around, almost scared by the anger in your voice.

“This is when you decide to stop? You have literally kidnapped me, interrogated me, left me in all but isolation, for a fucking month. You took me from everything that I wanted and everyone that I love and yet, and YET, I wanted you. Goddamn it, I still want you. I don’t understand why. So don’t apologize to me for misleading me or whatever bullshit excuse you’ve decided to use as a sheild. Apologize for everything you have done to me, you fucking cunt.”

And then your voice broke and you could feel the tears rushing to your eyes, your vision turning glassy as your chest heaved with sobs. You could feel yourself slipping away, your breaths growing shallow and your body shaking. Why did you stay here? Why didn’t you leave when you could? What was the point, if Icarus didn’t even want you?

And then, suddenly, you felt warm.

Icarus, sir, whoever the fuck he was, was holding you tightly in his arms, head dipped down into the crook of your neck, his arms enveloping you in his warmth. He was your sun. And he could scorch you again and again but you would still be drawn to him.

Your panic died down and you wept for the first time since you arrived. The two of you sank down to the floor, his apologies muttered swiftly and quietly against your skin. You were in his lap now, your body curled up into a ball in his embrace, one of his palms cupping your face. He turned you slightly towards him.

His eyes were wet too, but only slightly, and his fingers were thumbing at the tears on your cheeks. One of them got close to the corner of your mouth and slowly but surely, with almost childlike fascination, he pushed the tip of it in. Your tongue ran along the edges of it, the salty taste leaving you wanting more.

And slowly, Icarus leaned forward, his lovely face the closest you had ever been to him. He removed his finger from your mouth and kissed you instead, gently, and then all at once.

It was a furious kiss, on that burned and heated a cold room. You could feel teeth and tongue and hot tears, a clashing finale of a kiss. It was against your lips that he murmured his name.

“My name is Todoroki Shouto.”

He said it softly, leaving your lips to place open-mouthed kisses on your neck that left you moaning and had wetness pooling between your legs. But suddenly, your eyes snapped open.

“Todoroki? As in-“

He kissed you again to silence as you felt the questions racing through your head. Endeavor was Todoroki Enji, right? But he had never mentioned having kids to you? Was Shouto lying to you? Why did he want to destroy his father? And how were you-

“Shh.” Shouto tapped his forehead to yours. “Let me take care of you.”

Fuck it. The questions could wait.

Shouto reached down to pull off your shirt and groaned at the sight of you. He looked at you in wonder.

“You- hero, you make me feel like I’m on fire.” He said it with such sincerity that you nearly cried again were it not for his palming of your breasts, his burning fingertips tweaking your nipples and making you whimper slightly.

“I am so sorry. I’m sorry for everything I put you through-“ you were placed on the bed- “I’m sorry for taking you away-“ He was kneeling, fucking kneeling, between your legs- “but most of all-“ fuck, he placed hot kisses on your stomach as he pulled your pants down-

“I’m sorry I didn’t have the courage to do this sooner.”

And with that, his tongue was lapping at you through your panties, new ones that the villains had provided for you, with reckless abandon. Your hands tugged at his hair and you heard his hum of a chuckle as a vibration on your pussy. There was pressure, so much pressure from him against you, like nothing you had felt before, and when he finally pushed your panties aside, they were soaking wet.

Shouto looked up at you for a moment, meeting your gaze with his own, eyes sparkling with desire. And then, without a word, He pressed a small kiss to your clit that had you jolt slightly before he dove in. He had you moaning within seconds, his tongue lapping at your folds before swirling around your clit. You felt yourself reaching a climax- it was too good and too fast and too much and- Shouto pushed a finger inside you and crooked it slightly and you began humping your hips upwards as he nursed at your clit. Your climax was swift and powerful, but he didn’t move throughout it. Even as you came down from your high, his mouth planted on you and his finger gently pumped in and out. Shouto added one more easily, and you swore you saw stars when he began thrusting. He fucked you with his fingers, marveling at your reactions, the sounds you made, your pussy pulling him in.

“Fuck, hero, you’re so wet. Is this all for me? Have you gotten off to me fucking you like this in this bed?”

You moaned loudly and Shouto removed his fingers, leaving you feeling empty. There was a dark look in his eyes that you remembered from the first day you arrived.

“Answer me, hero.”

You nodded your head slightly, but that wasn’t enough for him. He rose to his feet and without warning, he smacked your clit. You squealed loudly from the stimulation, the pain turning into pleasure quickly. His palm was cold as ice, and you squirmed dumbly against his touch.

“Answer the question.”

“Yes, yes, sir, I’ve thought about you fucking me everywhere in this room-“

Shouto’s palm reverted back to his normal temperature and you sighed with relief as he cupped your pussy and rubbed it gently.

“What a good, slutty, hero. Have you touched yourself when you think about me?”

You blushed slightly and hid your face behind your hands. God, this was embarrassing. Of course you had gotten off to the thought of him, but to say it out loud was a different feeling altogether.

You took too long and Shouto spanked your clit again. You let out a shriek and tried to wriggle away from him, but he just pulled you closer.

“I want to see your face, doll.” You whimpered at the new pet name. “Now, have you touched yourself when you think about me?”

“Y-yes sir-”

“Y-yes s-sir-‘ so shy for someone who wants a villain to fuck your hero pussy into behaving.” he palmed himself over his trousers, letting out a little huff of pleasure. “I want to, shit, want to fucking ruin you.”

Shouto pulled you to him as your hips thrust desperately against the air.

“Yes sir! Want you to fuck me, want you inside me-“

He groaned and humped into you, the metal of his belt buckle catching against your clit and making you flinch with overstimulation. Shouto noticed and pulled you closer as he stood at the side of the bed, your back flat against the mattress and your hips arched upwards to meet his bulge. He rutted into you again, forcing your pussy to kiss the metal of the buckle once more. You felt your body seizing up, your orgasm building inside you, and Shouto, with a sadistic gleam in his eyes, pressed his buckle harder against you.

The longer it stayed there, the more it heated up, almost more pain than pleasure, until Shouto wrapped your legs around his waist and thrust against you. There was a wet patch on his pants and you kept shrinking away from the burning hot metal that teased at your clit.

“You have no idea what you do to me, fucking hell-” He managed to spit out, “I’m not even inside you and you’re dripping all over me like a bitch in heat-”

He continued to hump you roughly, each time more forceful than the last until you came loudly as Shouto pushed your body into the belt buckle. “No more, Shouto, please, no more- its too much-”

“Too much for you already, hero? I haven’t even come yet. And you- how many times have you reached your climax today?”

You almost screamed with frustration- how were you supposed to know, you didn't fucking keep track-

“I can tell you, brat.” He grabbed your waist and flipped you easily onto your stomach. You were completely exposed to him now, unable to see his face, out of control entirely.

“You have come three fucking times. That doesn’t feel very fair to me, does it? Do you want my cum inside you?”

You buried your face into your pillow, and he pushed down slightly on your lower back, creating an arch. You startled when he teased his cockhead against the surface of your pussy, wetness coating his dick.

“Shouto, I want your cum-”

His palm came down hard on your asscheek, forcing a gasp out of you as he rubbed it softly with his palms. He leaned closer towards you, his voice whispering in your ear.

“Then beg.”

And, with your voice muffled by the pillow, you followed his orders.

“Sir, fuck me, please, please- I need you inside me, I need you to cum for me, please- Shouto, Daddy-“

Your begging got cut off by him thrusting into you. You screamed and he shushed you gently, holding your hand with his own. “Do you think you can take the rest of it?”

The rest of it? There was more? You looked over your shoulder and nearly passed out. You had barely taken half of his length and you were already completely filled up. But… you wanted to feel him, all of him, so you muttered a soft “yes.”

“Okay, baby, take it easy…” he eased a couple more inches into you before you tightened up, your pussy clenching and back arching as he slid in. “Oh fuck,” Shouto groaned. “Do that one more time and I won’t be able to hold back.”

And of course, you grinned. And proceeded to clench yourself around his length again.

Shouto nearly growled. “I warned you, hero.”

And then, he thrust into you. Hard. And he kept going, pumping in and out of your body like a machine, his thumb rubbing against your clit and his other hand on your leg. You are screaming and crying and babbling on about how good his cock is, how good you felt, how this is what you wanted. And Shouto? The cocky bastard was gloating.

“Look at you, such a good slut on my cock. Are you crying? God, thats so fucking hot. I’ve got a cute little hero crying on my dick. I know you can use your quirk now, Hero, I know Aizawa sensei returned it to you. Did you stay because you wanted me to fuck you like this? Did you want to be corrupted?”

“Yes,” you’re almost incoherent, “yes, ruin me, make me a villain, I wanna be a villain!”

Shouto slows his pace for a moment. “You would leave Endeavor? Leave the agency?”

“Yes, I would, Shouto, fuck, anything for you-”

He slapped the inside of your thigh before resuming his pace again. You had never felt so full before, his dick reaching places within you that you didn’t even know existed. His palms gripped the sides of your hips so tightly you thought you might bruise, tiny burn marks already forming in the place of his fingertips. You were close, so close, your tears and drool spilling over your pillow and your body limp and helpless before him. Shouto felt you clenching around him, completely spent.

“Do you want to cum again? What a greedy pussy you have, hero, a needy little cumdump.”

You couldnt get words out, croaking out your mumbled yeses and nodding your head vigorously. He pounded even harder into you and reached around your thighs to your clit, rubbing it in tiny circles as he fucked you. You could feel your climax building for the fourth time and you twitched pathetically beneath him. Finally, Shouto pinched your clit slightly and you came with a wail of his name.

He fucked you through your orgasm, but he was slower now, his strokes hitting you deeper than before.

“Do, fuck- do you want me to cum in your pretty pussy?”

Shouto was hunched over you, his head resting on your back and his arms caging you in so that he was all that surrounded you. His breath came out in cold pants and his thrusts got more and more erratic as he neared his own climax.

“Please, I need you to want this, I need you- shit, I...” You could hear the desperation in his voice, how he yearned for you, and you the words fell out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“Yes, Daddy! Want you to come inside, fucking breed me-”

“Oh fuck, Y/n-”

And then Shouto came with a groan, his cum splattering your insides with warmth. He pressed kisses to your spine, trailing his fingers down your arms as he turned you to the side. He didn’t pull out of you as he did so, causing you to groan slightly. Finally, he released you and gently removed his dick from where you were connected. Some of his cum oozed out and he pushed it back in with his fingers, trapping his seed within you forever.

The pair of you laid together side by side for a moment, Shouto’s fingers tracing your body with slow, lingering touches as if he was afraid you would shatter the moment he pressed too hard.

You were the one who broke the silence. “ You said my real name.”

“I did. I love your name, Y/n. It just felt... wrong to say it when you were my prisoner. It was easier to distance myself from you if I just thought of you as a random hero. But you’re more than that now.”

You stared straight into his eyes, your hands reaching up to run gently through his silky hair. “I’m not leaving, Shouto. I’m never leaving this place. And I’m not just staying for you- I like it here. The villains like me, and they respect me. You aren’t bad people- if anything, the rest of the world has been far worse than anything or anyone I’ve faced here. It feels like I’m finally home.”

Shouto gathered you into his arms and pressed you tightly to his side. “You will be mine now,” he said almost matter-of-factly.

“And you will be mine as well.” You planted a small kiss to his nose that made his eyelids flutter and a slight blush crawl onto his cheeks.

“You deserve the world, Y/n,” he said hesitantly. “And I am not even close to being good enough for you.”

Shouto’s eyes were downcast and you could see the doubt creeping in. You gently pressed your fingers to his furrowed brows and soothed the wrinkles away. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” He asked.

“Put yourself down. You are more than enough for me. And Shouto? I don’t need the world. I already reached my sun.”

He smiled at you then, with no underlying malice, no undertone of darkness. It was blinding. Goddamn it, you would do anything to see that smile for the rest of your life.

“That was terribly cheesy, Y/n.”

“Shut up, Shouto.”

He kissed you, and you could feel the butterflies in your stomach fluttering up a storm. Todoroki Shouto was your sun, and you were his. And even if you both melted away under your flames, it would have been worth the loss.

-Bonus-

2 weeks later:

“So, uhm, Y/n, Todoroki, we were reviewing the footage from Y/n’s old room the other day. While we’re all happy you two are *ahem* together now, maybe you can display your... appreciation for one another in a more private place?” Kirishima was blushing profusely and refused to meet your eyes. Suddenly, it clicked for you.

“WE WERE BEING RECORDED?”

“And?”

“SHOUTO!”

“Ah yes, how horrible and violating, I feel as though I have been exposed indecently without my permission for the perverted public to see. They will be unable to contain themselves when faced with my immeasurably sexy figure.”

“You are NOT being helpful.”

“I beg to differ, Y/n. Kirishima, is there any way you can send me a copy of the tape-”

-----------

A/N: I hope you like this and please let me know if I should do a villain!UA series because I only write under the influence of peer pressure. 

[voiceless-terror]

I am so completely enamored with Danny as jons ex and I would be forever in your debt if you finished that

i wasn't expecting people to like this idea so much, its definitely one of my weirder ones xD since im not sure when i'll get around to actually finishing it (if ever) you can have a very rough chunk of it instead. you'll have to forgive any mistakes, im not up to editing it.

In a surprising show of athleticism, Jon ducks under Sasha’s chair before the specter of his past manages to see him.

Sasha swears at the action, backing up in her chair and peering down at Jon in bafflement. “What on Earth are you doing, Jon?”

Instead of answering her question, he backs up even further, tucking his feet out of sight. He thinks Sasha’s umbrella must be under here, and judging from the sharp point currently jabbing at his thigh, he probably broke it. “Is he still there?” he hisses, tilting his head to avoid bashing it into the desk.

“Who?”

“That- that man!”

A pause. “Tall, dark and handsome?”

Jon’s turn to pause. “I suppose you might call him that,” he replies stiffly. And it’s true. The man, from Jon’s brief, panicked glimpses, is at least six foot, with thick, dark hair and a bright grin.

And he looks exactly like Jon’s ex, Danny Stoker.

He’d done an almost comical double-take after a cursory glance; at first he’d thought Danny was the new hire, but this man was more angular, like a sharper, leaner version of his ex. So no, it couldn’t be him.

That didn’t stop him from diving under the nearest object, ergo Sasha’s desk. Not the wisest of decisions, considering his throbbing side, but he’s never been known for grace under pressure.

He’s not exactly sure why this fight or flight mode’s been activated- he and Danny had parted on fairly good terms, each recognizing that although they cared about the other, they simply weren’t compatible in the long term. They’d dated for a little over six months when Jon was a freshman, and he’d fallen hard.

Danny had been his first real relationship, and Jon was shocked that someone like him even looked his way. Impossibly handsome, incredibly fit, desired and envied in equal measure, and he dated scrawny, shy, insecure Jonathan Sims; the rumor mill went wild. They’d met at a party, and not even a good one. In a brief moment of liquid courage, Jon managed to insert himself into a group and fit in one snarky joke that sent Danny into stitches, the rest of the partygoers following his lead. For one second, Jon felt like he truly fit in, like he was someone worth knowing.

Danny had a way of making someone feel special. Big, romantic gestures, surprising him after class, taking him on little expeditions beyond campus. Jon didn’t drive, still doesn’t, and Danny wanted to show him the world outside of their privileged little campus.

But, like all of Jon’s relationships, it came to an end. Jon wasn’t ready for such overwhelming affection (didn’t think he deserved it, quite frankly), and Danny needed someone who could handle his fast-paced lifestyle. Jon was not that man. They broke up amicably, even if Jon shed a few tears in private, saw each other on campus a few times. Danny tried to reach out more than once, just as friends, but Jon’s never been able to handle more than one relationship at a time, and by then he’d met Georgie.

But now it seems the past is unavoidable, and standing near the circulation desk. Well, now walking in his direction, if the steady footsteps were any indication. Jon’s heart begins to hammer in his chest as it hits him that he is, in fact, hiding under a desk because a man who sort of looks like his ex is in his general vicinity. Coward.

“‘Lo!” God, even the voice is similar, if not as deep. “Tim Stoker. Reporting for duty.”

Stoker. Tim Stoker. Jon startles, slamming his head against the desk with a yelp.

Somewhere in his spiraling thoughts and throbbing head he remembers- Danny had a brother. An older brother that he adored. This must be the famous Tim- Danny made him out to be a saint, and though Jon never met him, he felt some fondness via Danny’s descriptions. But Tim’s going to have no fondness for him, especially considering Jon’s current position, hiding in pain under his coworkers desk.

“Pleased to meet you!” Sasha chirps, very clearly amused by the situation. “I’m Sasha James. And this-” she tugs at one of Jon’s legs, dragging him a few inches into sight. Jon buries his head in his hands and wishes he were invisible. “-is Jonathan Sims. We’ll be training you.”

“Excellent.” Tim’s voice holds the same good humor Danny’s always did, and sends a pang of nostalgia through his chest. “Er, you alright down there?”

“Yes,” Jon responds robotically, scrambling to his feet and standing behind Sasha’s chair, unwilling to meet the man’s eyes, lest he be drawn in. “I- uh, lost a pen. P-Probably left it in the copy room, I’ll just be going...there.” With that incredible performance, he fled.

And only tripped once on the way out.

________

So Jon’s kind of cute.

Tim doesn’t normally go for tiny disgruntled academics, but Jonathan Sims is an interesting fellow. He’s got a reputation for being the ‘problem child’ of the Research Department, awkward and prickly and always available with a snide word. He wields his books and files like a little suit of armor, and the only person he’s seen him open up to is Sasha. Besides their little conversations, Jon is all work and no play.

Except with Tim.

Sasha says she’s never seen anything like it, with one of her secret little smiles. Jon’s always staring. Usually, the man can’t hold eye contact to save his life, but he’ll spend full minutes looking at Tim when he thinks he can’t see. The first few times, Tim would turn around and smile, but that practically sent the man into convulsions, dropping his papers and jumping out of sight like a spooked cat. It was funny the first few times, but Tim pitied him enough to ignore it now. He hopes Jon enjoys the view.

God forbid he ask the guy a question. Jon will look around the room, as if waiting for someone else to answer, when it’s clearly directed at him. He’ll blush and stammer his way through every explanation, keeping a wide berth of at least two feet between them. Even when Tim wants him to look at his screen, he’ll squint from far away. Tim starting to think he smells bad, or has some sort of communicable disease unbeknownst to him.

“It’s not that,” Sasha assures him, again with that unreadable smile. “Trust me.”

Time to try something else.

He prints out his latest follow up, a rather elaborate statement regarding mistaken identities and absolutely nothing supernatural. He knows Jon prefers to look at things on paper, as screens ‘trigger his migraines’ if Tim understood his mumbles. Maybe if he can engage with him on familiar territory for the both of them, he’ll be able to hold a conversation. Tim specifically requested his help on this one.

“If you could just look it over, make sure everything’s up to snuff, that’d be great,” Tim says to the top of Jon’s head, as the man refuses to lift his own to meet his gaze. “You know how Dr. Walker is. Always-”

“Finding mistakes where there are none? I’m familiar with her methods,” Jon snorts, and Tim feels like he’s getting somewhere. A whole sentence! With classic Jonathan Sims snark! “I-I can give it a look. I’m rather busy, but -”

“Take your time,” Tim says with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I finished a bit early, so I don’t need it for a few days yet. Don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re not.” Jon meets his eyes for about ten seconds before ducking his head back down.

Progress!

[roll-da-credits]

the confessions on valentines event sounds so fun im so excited 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ can i request a Highschool au scenario with armin on prompt 5 jealousy?? 😮

Jealousy // Highschool AU Armin 2.6k words

ko-fi

A/n: Apologies for taking so long, I did not have inspiration what so ever and I was extremely busy with irl stuff, I hope I can finally finish the valentine's event now and actually get back to my normal requests!

“Do you think the Warrior students are going to be annoying?”

You hummed to the people around your table, clicking your pencil slightly as you mindlessly drone over your math homework. The same homework you’d have to turn in one period after lunch, the one you should’ve done at home a week ago.

“Does it really matter though? I mean they’ll only be here for a year, so if they’re terrible, it’ll only be a year.”

“True.” You answered at Jean who then left you alone on your desk to stop Connie from throwing something across the classroom.

Tomorrow would be the fated day of the student exchange program, last year four students from Paradis High spent a whole school year in Warrior High, this time though the Warrior students will have a school year in Paradis.

Last year the ones who were picked wasn’t all that surprising for you, three of your closest friends at the time, Mikasa, Armin, and Eren, along with one other students you weren’t that familiar with, Floch, were chosen as Paradis representatives and got to spend their school year a different location. Much to your dismay, as the group were torn apart because of that. Which led you to be much closer to Jean, Sasha, and Connie.

You were still very close to the other three though, Armin being the one closest to you as even during his time in Warrior High he contacted you constantly. Updating on how things were going in Warrior High and how he was feeling about the entire student exchange.

To be frank, you were quite jealous, of course not just due to the fact that they were experiencing things you couldn’t ever imagined, as you had heard from Armin the school was much different than yours. But you were also jealous of a certain character that kept being mentioned within Armin’s texts.

He mentioned a girl named Annie. One look to her and you couldn’t help the shiver of jealousy that ran up your spine at that moment. She was almost as gorgeous as Mikasa, tall, well-built, lean, clean blonde hair, with bright blue eyes. Her only flaw seemed to be her terrifying resting face and her penchant for sweets, as Armin somehow found out.

You had heard from Mikasa and Eren that Armin had been very extroverted in his time there, even talking constantly towards Annie. Someone that even Warrior students were terrified to talk to most of the time. It had made an unsettling feeling cement itself at the bottom of your stomach.

Needless to say, you were very glad when you heard they were coming back and that Armin didn’t create any long-lasting relationships that would’ve caused that feeling to bloom into something more.

Unfortunately, here you were now, waiting anxiously in your homeroom as Armin, Eren, and Mikasa themselves led the greeting ceremony for the four chosen Warrior students. You only hoped that one of those chosen students weren’t Annie.

“Are you not hungry?” Sasha sat in front of you a bread on her hand outstretched towards you.

You smiled at her, knowing she didn’t offer food most of the time, only doing so when you seemed visibly very upset or unsettled.

“Thanks,” you spoke before taking her bread and eating it quickly; trying to focus back on your math work, wishing Armin was here right now to help you with it, Ymir knows you wouldn’t be able to ask the three idiots in the room with you right now.

“You know, if it makes you feel better, I heard Armin had a crush on someone,” Sasha leaned in to you her mouth full with food.

Your head snapped upwards at her, your mouth wide agape in surprise. Even Jean and Connie, the two who were fighting with one another on the ground stopped and looked towards Sasha. Their expression of shock mirroring yours.

“What?!” You yelled almost a little too loudly, “Why would that make me feel better?!”

Jean and Connie now completely detangled themselves from one another and pulled a chair each towards your table to hear the now interesting conversation.

“Don’t you like him?” Sasha’s head quirked slightly to the side as if she had just mentioned a general fact.

You quickly hushed her, not wanting anyone else to hear you, though you didn’t know where your concern lied as there were no one else in the classroom than you four. The others were out enjoying their break, whilst your kind three friends decided to wait for you to finish your work.

“How did you even know that?!” You remembered vividly only telling three people.

Eren, Mikasa, and Jean.

As Sasha opened her mouth to answer truthfully you see from the side of your vision Connie making loud hushing sounds.

“Connie?” You spoke as you slowly turned your head towards him.

The bald boy in front of you stuttered for a moment, sputtering nonsense and excuses as why he accidentally told of your little crush to Sasha. Only to end with.

“Jean was the one who told me!”

“Why you!”

Jean almost tackled his friend beside him if not for your hand that rested on his shoulder stopping him from doing so. He refused to meet his gaze as his entire face burst in a deep red at embarrassment.

“What?” You smiled at him tightening your grip on his shoulder.

“It was an accident! Plus I swear Sasha wouldn’t even tell anyone outside this friend group!!!”

Jean tried to defend himself even as you squeezed his shoulder causing him to mutter a few wails of pain. Your hand only flew off of him and back onto your lap when the door of your classroom slammed open, revealing Armin grinning ear to ear.

“Armin!” You exclaimed, “Who were the chosen four?!”

Aside from hoping it wasn’t Annie, you were genuinely excited, if not slightly nervous, at the arrival of ‘new’ students to your school. Armin only nodded excitedly and made his way to your desk quickly.

“You guys are going to love them!” Armin exclaimed placing both his hands on the table before noticing your empty math worksheet that you needed to get done.

Mindlessly he picked up one of your pens that were scattered about and started to do the work for you. Already knowing you’d have asked him how to do the work anyways. All the while Jean, Connie, and Sasha ambushed him with questions after questions. The only one he seemed to answer was when Connie asked.

“How do you know we’ll get along with them?”

The seven of you, including Eren and Mikasa were very close to one another. Having spent the years since Junior High together, you were more than hesitant to be told that you were going to love the new students.

“That’s because I was friends with them when I was in Warrior High!”

That should’ve been your first warning sign.

Armin saying that should’ve been the first warning sign that fate wasn’t being nice to you. The second should’ve been when you were hurrying to your after school club, different than the others, only to see Armin, Eren, and Mikasa talking to a tall girl with blonde hair.

You also shrugged that off as being Historia, as you were in a rush and had only seen the girl’s back. What should’ve thrown you off was her height and the fact that Historia’s hair wasn’t as long as hers.

Even though your mind didn’t register those as warning signs, your subconscious thoughts definitely did. The unsettling feeling that cemented itself in your stomach so long ago were starting to grow.

And it only became noticeable when your fears were confronted.

Paradis High was a large school, during your busiest days the only times you were able to see your friends were lunch times. And with Armin, Eren, and Mikasa being busy with the new Warriror students you didn’t see either them or the new students that often.

That is until the introduction period was over for the ‘new’ students and the three finally ate lunch on the same table as you, Sasha, and Jean again. Bringing with them three out of four of the chosen students, 2 boys and a girl.

All three being rather tall, one of the boys being leaner but taller than the other one with dark hair and dark eyes. The other boy being shorter but still of taller than average height with blonde hair and a bulkier figure. Those two weren’t the focus though. Your focus landed on the girl that took a seat right beside Armin, afterwards beside her sat the other two.

There was no mistaking it.

You’ve seen her cold expression and long blonde hair complimented with her bright blue eyes before in Armin’s many pictures that he’s sent to you during his time last year. Annie Leonhart. God she was even more gorgeous in person.

Eren and Armin took the liberty of introducing all of you to one another, Bertholdt, the leaner of the two boys, and Reiner, the blonde boy, being the cheerier one at creating a lively atmosphere whilst Annie stayed silent a majority of the time.

Armin was right though, during lunch that day conversation flowed rather smoothly. It wasn’t as awkward as you thought it’d be. Reiner and Bertholdt were open to the many, mostly idiotic, questions thrown their way from Connie and Sasha. Even laughing and joking around with them.

At the same time you noticed how Armin’s eyes would glance over towards Annie every once in a while. Again, causing that sickly feeling at the bottom of your stomach start to pollute your mind with jealousy.

You thought this was because of his usual compassionate attitude, wanting to make sure Annie felt welcomed in an environment that was new to her. But why was he acting special specifically to her? There was Reiner and Bertholdt and Ymir! Why was he just being compassionate to her?

Then it kept continuing, the distance between you and your former best friends started growing more and more. To the point where you see Armin being around with Annie more often than he was alone. In fact, whilst Armin was spending time with Annie, you noticed how less and less time he was spending with you, how he seemed to shy away from any interactions that involved you, someone who, you thought, was one of his closest friends.

The sickening feeling of jealousy only blossomed even more in your stomach, to the point of blinding your train of thoughts, causing rash decisions. One of those rash decisions were about to come to fruition in a couple of minutes.

There was one time you knew Armin would be alone, he took Geography class at a time where everyone else, including you, had an empty period. Thankfully, it was during this time as well, that Annie would be dragged away by your student council to participate in activities made to strengthen the bonds between the two schools.

So here you were, standing in front of Armin’s classroom, waiting for him to leave. Knowing he’d be out of the class last and alone.

You waited patiently as the stream of students left the class rooms, eager to finally get to their free period. The moment Armin left the room and his eyes met yours, you could tell immediately that he tensed up. A more, saddening feeling, replaced your jealousy. Did you do something wrong? Could he tell you were jealous? So much so that he was unnerved by it?

You thought for a moment to back down from your plan, but you realized you’d either get answers now and finish this whole business off or continue on this game of cat and mouse. Hurting yourself even more in the process.

“Y/n I-” You didn’t let Armin say anything before grasping his wrist and pulling him to an empty and quieter part of the school.

Armin mumbled some things as you dragged him along but in the end stopped talking immediately as you stopped and stood with your arms crossed in front of him. Your eyes casted downwards as your feet tap against the floor, anxiously debating whether or not this was a good idea.

“Did I do something wrong?” You finally muttered at him, when Armin’s only response was his eyes widening, you elaborated, “You’re avoiding me ever since those Warrior students came and I just can’t help feel like I did something wrong. If I did can you please just tell me so I can apologize and we can be friends again?”

Armin felt his frustration boil up, not at you, at himself. He didn’t realize this entire time he’d been making you feel this way. If he did, he would’ve done things differently.

“No it’s- it’s not that.” “Then what?!”

At this point you were getting rather impatient. It took a hell lot of courage to be able to corner someone you liked this way, not to mention the fear of tearing apart what little friendship you thought you had left.

You could tell Armin was extremely nervous, his eyes barely met yours as he constantly glanced between your face in front of him and the extremely interesting floor below him. When only silence responded to you, you sighed. Letting your hand go through your hair in frustration as you looked down dejectedly.

Though just as you were about to leave, Armin felt a wave of panic rush over towards him. He couldn’t let you leave just like that only because of something as simple as this. So with a surge of bravery his hand took a hold of your arm.

“I like you!” he stammered out, “I really like you and when I realized I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by feeling something that you might not feel for me, so I thought if I made some distance between us then things could go back to normal. Then once I lose the feelings, we’ll go back to normal.” Armin spoke everything out.

You stood there for a moment, watching the blonde boy in front of you look towards you, finally, with shaky pupils. Scared, nervous, none of those emotions encompassed what you saw in his blue eyes. He feared rejection, but he feared the loss of a friend more.

Deciding to finally take pity on him, you broke the silence. With a chuckle.

Much to Armin’s surprise.

“Really? You know if you just said that none of this would’ve happened.”

You wanted to laugh even harder at the bewildered expression Armin had on his face.

“What?” he really was adorable.

“I like you too, I was just jealous about Annie, I thought you replaced me.” You shrugged.

Being able to put what you were feeling into words really did help with lifting the weight of frustrations off of your shoulders.

“I would never do that!” Armin stated defensively.

You only chuckled even louder and wrapped him in a sudden hug. Just wanting for this whole ordeal to be over with.

“I know.”

It wasn’t long before Armin himself wrapped his arms around you. The two of you leaned into each other’s embrace unknowing of the group of people just across the hallways hiding behind a wall peaking over at you.

“I told you Armin was going to confess first!” Connie stated, “No but Y/n was the one who initiated it so technically I’m right!” Sasha bantered.

As the two started to fight, the rest of the group, consisting of Eren, Mikasa, and Jean, tries desperately to break them up before the noise catches the two of you.

“And here I thought he liked you.” Bertholdt spoke towards Annie, Reiner beside him agreeing along.

Annie only rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help the smallest hint of a smile creep into her features at the sight of her unlikely friend finally get his happy ending.

[silversatoru]

megumi + gaslighting / iq reduction

pls mr fushiguro, undermine my intelligence every day, purposely keep me unstimulated until im ur dumb, dependent plaything ❤️

a present for you when you get off the plane <3 i took a slightly diff approach to this and i know ur degree is very much not related to science but science is all i know,, so idk,, pretend u were a bio major or something for the sake of this fic okay

megumi + gaslighting/iq reduction

tw: nsfw 18+, f!reader, college-student!reader x professor!megumi, dark content, gaslighting, heavy manipulation, iq reduction, dumbification, slight misogyny?

wc: 1.3k

you still remember the first day of mr. fushiguro’s class, and the way he seemed to pick on you of all people — the way he asked you to stay after class and immediately offered you a position on his team of research students. you remember questioning why he chose you instead of someone else, to which he affirmed that no one had quite the credentials that you did. and you were left wondering how he could possibly judge that on the very first day of classes.

you still remember the first time you showed up to the lab for said research group, the straps of your bag clutched nervously in your clammy palms. mr. fushiguro was a young but incredibly esteemed professor, and this was going to look great on your transcript, so you were nothing but a ball of excited jitters. and you were smart! you knew you’d be an excellent addiction to this team of students, and you were grateful for the opportunity.

or so you thought; but it quickly became apparent that you weren’t nearly as prepared as you thought you were. it seemed like everything you did was wrong — all of your experiment results were compromised, lacked accuracy, and were always rejected. it seemed like all the other students were excelling, and mr. fushiguro loved them — but he was always so frustrated with you.

if only you knew the frustration was a front. if only you realized that every experimental result you got was right, that every answer and every theory you came up with was painfully accurate. if only you knew that your struggles were entirely fabricated by mr. fushiguro and his ulterior motives.

eventually he made the recommendation that you do some remediation with him — a few one-on-one sessions to help sharpen your skills so you can contribute more to his research. so of course you said yes! because you wanted nothing more than to be helpful and you couldn’t understand what you were doing wrong.

so you attended the tutor sessions with your dark-haired professor; but they were less about learning and more about brutal criticism of your skills. mr. fushiguro berated and insulted your intelligence several times, making you falter at his words and wonder what you ever did to deserve to be involved in his research project in the first place.

“i just don’t think you’re cut out for this, ms. l/n”.

maybe you really weren’t cut out for this.

“your lack of skills has surprised me, i can’t say i’m not disappointed in your performance so far”.

you were disappointed in yourself too.

“you’ll have to put in a lot of extra work if you want to stay on the team”.

you’d do whatever it took.

you were always bright, always excelled in your science-related classes, so what was happening to you? why were you the weak link of his research group? why were you on the verge of failing his class? why was everything suddenly so hard?

you didn’t mean to break down in front of him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you choked back sobs and hid your face behind your hands. it’d been building up for a while now: your frustration, your sudden lack of self-confidence, your feelings of inadequacy; they were all overflowing. but mr. fushiguro showed you zero sympathy, staring down at you with icy eyes and not a shred of mercy. you were exactly where he wanted you, and he was about to seal the deal.

“i really expected more from you”

those were the words that broke you in half, your fear of failure becoming all to real in that moment. but his next words halted your tears and created a small shred of hope in your despair.

“but i do want to help you. my door is open to you anytime. i have practice questions and study methods that i’m happy to share with you”.

and so here you were, anxiously sitting at his kitchen table trying to solve a few problems that he’d given you to practice. but you couldn’t seem to figure them out no matter how hard you tried — brain frying as you tried and failed over and over.

but it was all exactly as it was supposed to be — the problems were never solvable in the first place — there were no right answers — they were simply meant to melt your little brain.

you came back to his house time and time again, and each study session was worse than the last. you were never able to figure anything out on your own, you always needed his help, you couldn’t do anything without him.

it was no shocker when you began to admire him, depend on him, feel like you couldn’t do any schoolwork on your own. his months of manipulation were finally paying off, you were finally a dumb little thing who had no self confidence and who was constantly begging for his help. and he was happy to provide that for you, but you were going to have to start making it worth his time — his expert help doesn’t come for free.

you’re not sure what possessed you to agree, to have his cock lodged in the back of your throat while he groaned and leaned back in his seat — but you needed his help, this was just a small price to pay. you’d bob your head and choke on his tip as it pressed into your esophagus as if your future depended on it, because at this point, it kind of did.

but the prices kept getting steeper; eventually a quick blow wasn’t enough to appease mr. fushiguro. he wanted more. if you wanted to keep his help you needed to be face down and bent over his kitchen table — and so that’s exactly what you did.

brain foggy and knees aching your sweaty fingers grasped at the smooth table top as he took you from behind. his strained cock dragged against your sopping walls, your ass nearly bruising from how hard he was fucking himself into you. whimpers and moans overflowed from your lips as your bare tits pressed into empty worksheets — the two of you had completely glossed over the “studying” portion of your night tonight, skipping right to your payment.

you could barely even think straight, your head spinning with endorphins as you cried out in response to the tip of his cock kissing against your cervix. his fingers dug into the sides of your hips, pressing little red circles into your skin from how hard he grasped at you. your were shaking, your entire body pulsing with bliss each time he thrusted up into your cunt.

he was so happy with himself, balls deep inside one of the smartest students who had ever graced his classroom. he’d taken a girl with so much potential it was sickening, and convinced her that she was worthless, reduced her to a less than average student who was desperate enough to take her professor’s cock in exchange for better grades. you were pathetic, embarrassing even, laying here on your stomach and babbling complete nonsense while he filled you up.

all it took was patience and a sprinkle of manipulation to get you like this. to make you a dumb little fuck toy who came to his house several times a week under the guise of getting help with class work.

and he’d keep this up until you could barely even think for yourself — reducing you to a brainless little pet who deserves to be stuffed with cum and nothing else.

you didn’t belong in STEM, you didn’t belong in a university in general — you belonged right here on his kitchen table, your face sitting in a puddle of your own drool.

you were stupid, or at least he convinced you that you were so much so that you actually became it.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Crash Course - Bucky Barnes

a/n: this one? im in LOVE with this fic and im not even ashamed of it. there is just something about the MC helping him get used to living in the new century and im a sucker for it. so please enjoy this fluffy piece!

pairing: Bucky X Reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: Bucky is a regular at the café where you work at and seeing him struggling with technology, you offer to help him, teaching him the basics while you are both thinking about taking it a little further than just a crash course.

masterlist

The time between the morning rush and lunch time is always quiet, the café is almost completely empty, that’s why Bucky prefers to go out during that time, tuck himself away in the corner of the small but cozy place, a black coffee steaming on the wooden table in front of him, his laptop or a book or his phone reserving his attention, whatever he decides to put his energy into that day.

Today has been a rainy day, therefore the morning was a lot quieter than usually, not many likes to make an extra trip for a coffee in the pouring rain, so you’ve been enjoying the calmness, the soft jazz music playing through the speakers as you are putting away the freshly washed cups behind the counter. As if he has an appointment, Bucky walks into the café with a laptop under his arm, his cap hiding part of his face, but you can still see the shy smile on his lips as he closes the door behind him, the little bell chiming for a second time at his arrival.

“Welcome back, the usual?” you ask as he heads to his spot.

“Yes please,” he nods, shooting you a thankful smile.

You try to ignore the little butterflies in your stomach at the sight of the man, it’s almost ridiculous how you still get nervous when you see him, even though he has been showing up every day at the same time for the past about two months. You just can’t help it, there’s just something in those ocean eyes and perfect manner he always treats you with, something you don’t often get these days. Not many take the time to ask about your day or wish you a good one after you hand them their coffee, but Bucky is different. The same question falls from his lips every time you appear at his table with his order.

“How has your day been going?” he asks when you place the cup next to his laptop that’s loading.

“Pretty quiet, the rain keeps people away,” you chuckle, hoping your blush is not as apparent as it feels. “What about yours?”

“Just the same as usual,” he smiles softly and you nod, though you have no idea what’s usual for him. He might be friendly and quite welcoming when he is sitting at the café, he often chats with you about anything and everything, yet still, you know near nothing about him and his life outside of this place. It’s clear he is the kind of person that prefers to keep things to himself, but sometimes you are so desperate for just the smallest crumb of information about him. With the lack of details, you often find yourself making up things about him, like what his favorite dish is, where he likes to shop, what shows he watches on the TV. You might be entirely wrong about all of these, but it’s all you have.

Moving back behind the counter you busy yourself with cleaning it off as Bucky’s attention shifts to the screen in front of him. There are only two more customers in there and they are quite locked away in their own world as well, a college student working on some kind of assignment on her second espresso and an old lady solving Sudoku at the table near the window, sipping on a nice latte.

You can’t help but glance in his direction every now and then as you move the muffins around on the counter. He seems deeply focused, eyebrows knitted together as he is clicking away on the computer. From the looks of it, he is solving some kind of enigma, but when you walk past his table you see that he has an email open on the screen, his cursor moving around kind of aimlessly.

“Not finding the right words?” you ask, stopping to clean the table next to his that was previously occupied by a young couple. His eyes snap up to you before he huffs shaking his head.

“No, I’m just… terribly bad at IT stuff and I’m supposed to “CC” someone on this email,” he explains, using his fingers to air-quote as he glances back at the screen. “But if I’m being honest I don’t even know what it means,” he admits with a nervous chuckle.

You find it amusing, even cute that he is like an old man with these stuff. You’ve seen him struggling to type in a text message before on his flip phone that’s from the last century for sure and now this.

Placing the tray of cups down on the table you move over to him, taking the free chair next to him as you reach for the laptop, but you stop before touching it.

“May I…?”

“Go ahead,” he gestures with a nod.

You turn the device towards yourself as you click a few times, bringing up the option to send a copy of the email to another receiver.

“CC means that more people get the same email. You can put their addresses here. But you can also BCC people, in that case, the original receiver won’t see if the email was sent to others as well,” you explain patiently. Bucky tries his best to focus on the screen and what you’re saying, rather than the way your lips are moving and how badly he wants to taste them.

You haven’t been the only one feeling flustered and like a giddy teenager and Bucky didn’t choose this café as his usual spot for nothing. He spotted you the first time he stumbled in and the way you smiled brightly at everyone and the sweet chiming of your laughter made him want to come back the moment he stepped out that day. So he returned the next day and then the next day again… and now he couldn’t even imagine a day without seeing your eyes light up when he walks in while he can only hope you are just as happy to see him as he is to see you.

You help him send his email and you cheer in victory once it’s done and sent.

“See? It’s not as hard as it seems,” you smile at him gently, patting his arm that’s covered by a hoodie and your eyes fall onto his gloved hands on the tabletop.

“Yeah, I just have a lot of catching up to do from the past seven decades,” he mumbles under his breath, though he immediately regrets not keeping his mouth shut.

Your eyes flicker to his hand once again, then up to meet his gaze and he knows he just outed himself. He is expecting the usual: disgust, disappointment, even fear. That’s how most people react when they find out who he really is. But as he stares back at you, scared like a little kitten, you just smile back at him softly.

It’s not that you haven’t heard of the Avengers, because it’s impossible not to know who they are. You were just not expecting one of them to become a regular at your working place. The few times you saw him on TV he had long hair and his face was covered with a mask, so you’re not surprised you didn’t put the picture together. But knowing now who he is, you don’t see him in a worse lighting. If anything, you feel a little sad that he had to go through so much in his extremely long life.

“Well, feel free to ask any more questions. I’m not an IT guy, but I can help you with everyday stuff,” you tell him and he is in awe at your very normal, very sweet reaction. All he can do is nod as you stand from the table and grab the tray you abandoned not long ago, moving back behind the counter.

When you glance up your gaze meets his as he is still staring at you, nervous, a little anxious, but definitely relieved by your smooth reaction to finding out his identity. You shoot him a bright smile before moving to the table of the old lady who asks for another latte and as Bucky follows your frame move across the room he can’t help the small smile that tugs on his lips.

Your offer doesn’t stay unused. In fact, Bucky shows up at the café the next few days with a handful of questions for you, genuine ones, and a few he already knows the answer to, but wants to hear you explain them anyway. And you help him with anything, sitting at his table whenever you have a few free minutes between customers. He asks you about the internet, social media, online data bases and sources, going through a list from the little notebook he always keeps with himself.

The times spent with him are your favorite part of the day. You always look forward to whatever issue Bucky is going to bring up, fearing that one day he might run out of questions, but that just never comes. And you don’t know it, but your little sessions are the highlights of his days as well, listening to your smooth voice as you explain even the smallest things to him with so much patience, he is convinced you should become a teacher.

He thinks about asking you out every day, the question is always on the tip of his tongue.

What are you doing tonight? Would you want to go out with me? Do you want to grab a bite with me after your shift?

However he just never gets to actually say the words out loud. He is growing impatient with himself, he used to have no problem with asking girls out, but seven decades and another life as a brain-washed assassin later, this task feels way too impossible.

You’ve been telling him to get a smartphone for the past couple of days and though he seemed adamant, one day he shows up with a brand new one, still in the box.

“Oh my God, is that what I think it is?” you tease him with a dramatic gasp. Chuckling to himself he nods as he places the box to the counter while you are making the order of one of the customers. Today has been a little busier than usually, probably because of the special offer of 10% off from the new Cuban coffee beans your boss ordered in.

“I need a teacher to show me the ropes though.”

“Oh, Bucky, I would love to, but today is a bit crowded,” you pout as you put the lid onto the paper cup and hand it over to the customer, another one already walking in, eyeing the offer written on the black board behind you.

He didn’t even think you wouldn’t say yes, it never occurred to him that the timing might not be the best. You see as his smile slowly disappears from his scruffy face and your heart breaks seeing him like this.

“Yeah, sorry. Don’t want to keep you up,” he mumbles feeling defeated, but before he could grab the box from the counter, you put your hand on it, your fingers brushing against his gloved one, the tiny touch making both of you flustered.

“But how about after work?” you suggest and his eyes immediately light up. Spending time with you without any customers interrupting? That sounds like heaven to him.

“Y-you sure? If you have something to do, I—“

“Nothing to do,” you smile at him. You grab a napkin from the counter and a pan from near the cash register, quickly scribbling down your address before handing it over to him. “I’ll be home by seven,” you inform him as he glances down at your handwriting, noting how well it fits your personality. He then looks back at you nodding, as if he was just handed the best Christmas present ever.

“I’ll be there,” he smiles gratefully before stepping away from the counter and letting you work.

 Five minutes after seven, Bucky is standing at your front door with a bag of Chinese food in his hands as he is trying to build up the courage to ring your doorbell. He found out that you live just a few corners away from the café, so he found your address easily.

“Come on, dude. Don’t be such a loser,” he mumbles to himself as he circles his shoulders before finally pushing the button. A short, buzzing sound is heard from the other side of the door and he stares at the 6B sign in front of you as he hears footsteps from inside. A few moments later the door swings open and there you are, still wearing the same clothes from earlier, a bright smile adorning your face as you beam at your guest.

“Come on in!” you gesture for him as he steps into the small apartment. “Tried to clean up a bit, but if I’m being honest I’m starting to grow out this place,” you chuckle as you push a box out of the way. It’s a small studio apartment with everything cramped into one space except the bathroom. You have a double bed pushed up against the wall in the corner, a small sofa with your wardrobe next to it, a TV, a tiny coffee table, a bookshelf and a dresser, a little dining table near the kitchen with three chairs and a pantry right next to the fridge that stands where the hardwood floor changes into checkered tiles. It really is a tiny space that holds a lot of stuff, but all the gadgets and clutter makes it cozy, lived-in, a place that’s so much like you that he feels like he is peeking inside your head as he walks farther inside.

“I brought dinner,” he shyly holds the bag up as you lock the door.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” you smile at him gratefully, because you didn’t really have time to buy anything on your way home since you had to make a quick trip to the post office after your shift, leaving you no spare time before his arrival.

“It’s the least I can do for all the help,” he smiles as you take the bag from him and bring it to the designated living room area of the place. Bucky joins you on the sofa and he thanks all higher powers your place is so small that you only have a loveseat, giving him the chance to sit close to you. Your thigh brushes against his as you hand him a box and make yourself comfortable as well, starting your feast while he asks you about your day, listening to your every word intently.

When the food is gone and you’ve grabbed two beers for the two of you, he pulls out the phone that’s the reason behind his visit. He bought a simple one, not at all one of the latest versions and it’s going to be the perfect model for him to learn the ropes on.

You help him put his SIM card into the new phone and then you set his account up before finally gaining access to the phone. You start with the basic features, showing him how to make a call or send a text before moving onto the different apps and possibilities while he listens to you as if you were talking about rocket science, but in a way, it feels like that for him.

“And here you can switch to the front camera,” you explain as you push the button and suddenly, the two of you come into picture on the screen. “Perfect for taking selfies,” you add with a chuckle.

“Oh, selfies. I’m not too good with those,” he huffs shaking his head.

“Because you probably haven’t found your angle!” you smirk. “Everyone has a good angle.”

“You think so?” you knits his eyebrows together.

“Mhm, look!”

Opening the contacts you go to yours, choosing the option to add a picture that will show up on the screen when you call him, and open the camera to take one instead of choosing from the empty gallery. Holding up the phone you position it so your good angle is in the picture before snapping the photo and saving it as your caller ID.

“See?” you smile at him before handing the device back to him. He just nods, even though he can only think about how all your angles are perfect to him and that now he has a picture of you in his phone. “Let’s take one together!” you beam and moving closer to him you take the phone once again, holding it up in front of you, trying to fit both of you into the frame.

Bucky tries his best to focus on the picture, but he can’t ignore how close you are to him, he can smell your shampoo and your cheek is almost pressed against his as you smile into the camera. The corners of his mouth curl up as his eyes fix at your reflection on the screen before you snap the photo. Opening up the camera roll you take a better look at it and it’s probably your favorite photo that has ever been taken of you. Mostly because he is in it as well, smiling so sweetly.

“It’s a good one,” you say and as you turn your head to the side you realize how close you really are to him.

“Yeah?” he breathes out, definitely aware of just the few inches separating the two of you.

“I-if you had an Instagram I would tell you to post it…” you stutter as your eyes flicker down to his lips, the urge to lean in and kiss him growing with each passing second.

Feeling a little dizzy, one of your hands fall to his lower arm, the one that’s made out of metal and your gaze drops to where you are touching him, a panic filled look flashing through his eyes.

He thinks that this is where the moment is ruined, where you realize the monster he really is and decide you don’t want anything to do with him. He almost starts to apologize for God knows what reason when you reach out and your fingers start to work on the straps of his gloves. It takes a few moments for him to realize what you are doing, and he tries to pull his hand back, but you grab it stopping him from doing it.

“It’s alright,” you smile at him softly, your eyes meeting his as you finish what you started and pull the glove off his hand revealing the metal underneath the leather. Then you move onto his other hand and do the same, dropping the pair of gloves to the floor as you take both his hands in yours, thumbs running across his knuckles, feeling the difference between his own hand and the artificial one.

You see his jaw flexing at the touch and reaching up you cup his cheek in your palm, making him to look you in the eyes. The strong and confident man you see sometimes is gone now, fear and hesitation taking over his expression as your other hand keeps holding his vibranium one.

“I’m sorry,” it falls from his lips as he closes his eyes for a second.

“For what exactly?” you ask with a soft chuckle. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You don’t have to hide yourself around me.”

“You don’t find it… scary?”

“Not at all,” you assure him. “You can’t be held accountable for what happened to you. Anyone who thinks differently is just an ignorant asshole,” you add grinning and it finally breaks his fearful expression, planting a smile on his handsome face.

Keeping your hand on his cheek you lean closer, your nose touching his but you stop before your lips could meet, giving him the chance to pull back. But he never does. Instead, he closes the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips against yours, finally making the fantasy you both have been daydreaming about reality. He starts off slowly, savoring each other gently, getting accustomed to the feeling, but it doesn’t take long before the kiss grows hungrier and your tongues meet in the middle.

Your hands rest at the base of his neck while his find your waist, pulling you closer until you swing a leg over him, sitting on his lap as you smile against his lips. His kisses feel delicate and soft yet very passionate at the same time, you love the dynamic you create, tugging and biting each other playfully, it feels like kissing him is the sole purpose of your life.

When it gets hard for you to breathe you pull back, eyes opening and finding his flushed face as he stares back at you with bright, joyous eyes, his lips slightly swollen, already making you want to go back to where you were just a moment ago.

“Who knew selfies could be so much fun,” he jokes making you laugh, his heart fluttering in his chest at the sound that’s so dear to him.

“I’m glad you liked my crash course on smart phones,” you grin down at him, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “Do you have any more questions?”

Smirking his hand, his flesh one, moves up your back as he presses you closer, your lips almost touching his.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” he chuckles before kissing you again eagerly.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!