#GOD FUCKING DAMMIT THEY EVEN HAVE THE SAME HAIR COLOUR

[tumbleweeddesktop]

Wriolette gives off the vibes of the guardian figure to the magical girl that when she's in trouble they protect her and it's revealed that they're pretty strong themselves

Like those two gays from cardcaptor sakura yk the one

[thespacelizard]

im a simple man, i see a hot drow i black out

rizeth 👃💌, shen 👙, zeth'rinn 🔥

same, bestie

Rizeth:

👃 : Does your OC smell good? Do they have a signature scent?

oh this is a tough one. im bad at smells. in my mind, Rizeth very very very rarely puts any actual like. scent/cologne on. very special occasions for that, and it would probably be something subtle, kinda warm/woodsy almost. the kind of scent that’s expensive but not elaborate, something with undertones.

that being said—Ashenivir definitely thinks he smells very very good, with that sweat and subtle person smell that everyone has. and if you asked him he would completely deny having any opinion on how Rizeth smells because haha what no i don’t. have thoughts. on that. what?

💌 : How would they plan a romantic evening for a significant other?

Rizeth is an overthinker, we know this. So he would spend like a full tenday figuring out what to do, when to do it, how to do it.

Especially because this is Ashenivir, and if this is like, early in The Romance Portion of their relationship, he cannot fuck this up. There is a romantic dinner (probably at his house, so he can indulge in Domming The Boy without witnesses). There are candles. There is a lot of foreplay. Like. A lot.

and after he’s done fucking Ashenivir into insensibility, there will be A Fancy Bath (with more candles), and hair stroking, and reading of arcane theory until Ashenivir either gets impatient and brats at him, or just falls asleep.

listen he always wants to make Shen feel special, and wanted, and prove he’s a good partner (to himself as much as Ashenivir lbr). He’s such a secret romantic, i truly believe this. well. less secret and more ‘i am suppressing all my romantic inclinations for a variety of reasons no i will not be taking questions at this time get out of my house’

Ashenivir:

👙 : What kind of underwear do they use? Is it pretty or functional?

listen, other fandoms have hand wavy science and hand wavy finances. obedience has hand wavy underwear. it’s like. generic fantasy video game underwear, it’s not relevant to the plot. so it’s functional. nice, but functional.

HOWEVER. if we were to apply Real World underwear, i am of the thought that he would be a humble boxer-brief kind of guy. so again, functional. much as i want to put that boy in lingerie, he has some Issues to Work Through before that’s possible.

(god, entirely sidetracked, but i think Rizeth might go feral if Shen showed up to a scene in some kinda stocking-and-garter deal. there would be nothing LEFT of that ensemble by the end of the night. OR FISHNETS. HOLY. Rizeth would eat him alive)

(…now i have a burning need to draw stockings!Shen. can we survive such an image? good grief.)

Zeth’rinn:

🔥 : What’s a surefire way to make your OC get flustered?

THIS IS THE BEST ONE FOR ZETH’RINN. because okay. okay. he’s Jarlaxle’s kid, and he is trying so hard to be the coolest, suavest motherfucker in the Underdark but he is tragically not quite there yet. it is so easy to fluster him by simply flirting back.

He’s like ‘oh god i didn’t think i’d get this far help’. Just tell him he’s pretty or ask if he comes here often and he loses all ability to speak. he was doing so well until you did that, gods dammit, now he has to start all over.

related, he is extremely susceptible to dirty talk. whisper something filthy in his ear and see what colour he turns.

[anika-ann]

Walk Me Home Tonight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, songfic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 4700

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to be in a celebratory mood when all you can think of is that life sucks and that being left on your own to drown your sorrows is for the best.

Sometimes people who care about you know better than yourself and come crashing your party of one.

Sometimes, despite the popular belief, you do realize how lucky you are having been introduced to Steve Rogers.

Warnings: mention of blood and violence and death, mention of alcohol, angst, fluff and language

A/N: P!nk’s Walk Me Home just does something to me, alright? Music video included - it’s soooo beautiful.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

You stared at the amber liquid, lazily making it roll in the glass with idle motions of your wrist. It reflected the rather soft lights of the bar, an exquisite game of colour you found fascinating enough to dull your mind and muffle the noise of the party.

It wasn’t that you were a party pooper, not usually anyway; just… the timing wasn’t ideal.

Of course, Sharon could hardly move her birthday to make it more convenient for you, less so a party her colleagues had decided to throw for her. You knew Agent Carter for quite some time now; she had joined SHIELD about the same time as you, going through the same tough training. Except unlike you – and initially without your knowledge – she had an image to live up to.

You might even call her a friend, your chest bursting in pride for her when her hard work had finally borne some fruit and she had been promoted to an assistant director of the intelligence agency. Among other things, it earned her a lot of new potential friends.

You were hardly acting like one tonight, much to your own annoyance. But for some reason, you found it difficult to leave your momentary emotional baggage at the doorstep, slipping it off as easily as your coat. You had wished her all the best, conversed for a tiny bit and then happily made space for others, for the forming line of guests waiting to celebrate with her as well.

Then you retreated to your spot at the bar, possibly annoying the bartender, who would have been more delighted seeing some heavier drinker occupying your seat, tipping generously, instead of having you nursing each glass of alcohol for about two hours.

You weren’t even sure why you were still here; you had given up on the attempt on small talk with anyone, apparently unwittingly chasing away any potential company. And here you thought misery did love company – perhaps you were wrong, at least when it came to birthday parties of gorgeous women loved by everyone. You might as well pack up your bottom and sulk at home.

You were stubbornly shushing the voice in the back of your skull, whispering about knowing precisely why you remained in your seat; about feeling less alone here, despite being a literal loner in a crowd.

You downed the rest of the bitter scotch, basking in the burn which it left on its way down your throat, your eyelids slipping shut in content, the noise in your brain falling silent completely for few blissful moments.

“Party of one?” a male voice gently asked, the tinniest note of teasing in it and while your heart skipped a startled beat at being addressed, you felt the burn in your throat slip lower, warming your chest and causing the corners of your mouth turn up just a fraction.

 There's something in the way you roll your eyes Takes me back to a better time When I saw everything is good But now you're the only thing that's good

 “Felt like crashing it?” you hummed in response, side-eyeing the intruder and found a pair of cerulean eyes staring back. He blindly waved off the eager bartender who was about to offer him a drink.

Ah, poor guy. No tips for him tonight.

“Well, I didn’t get an invitation. Looks like crashing was my only option.”

You sighed tiredly despite Steve’s kind teasing. Tonight was just… so exhausting. Tonight. Today. This week. Gah, this whole month. This fucking year--- okay, maybe you were exaggerating, because you were simply crossing the line, moving from relaxed buzzed drunk to a miserable one.

Battling with yourself, arguing whether you should send him to hell – nicely, because Steve was nothing but kind, he was always so kind, goddammit, gentle humour spiced with the ability to become an utter troll, still benign though, that was why you usually enjoyed his company so much after all-… – or call it a night.

Or should you order another drink? Was there a point? You might cross the line to a clingy drunk eventually and you weren’t certain that was a good idea.

It was probably about as good of an idea as coming to a party despite feeling like shit on an emotional roller-coaster, dangerously inclining towards a very bad mood to put it mildly.

You tilted your head to side as you looked at Steve properly, tight blue shirt flattering his supersoldier frame, black pants with desperately needed leather belt considering his thin waist, his blonde hair a mess, gaze fixed on you, observing. Always observing to read people, to anticipate behaviour, evaluate the threat; sometimes simply to be considerate, to… to be compassionate.

Dammit, Steve.

“Must have got lost in the mail then,” you said eventually, offering a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he shrugged it off, the curve of his lips more distinct than yours. As if he was offering to cheer you up. Sweet, but possibly vain effort tonight. Sometimes, things simply piled up and there was no escape. Such was the fate of a government agent. And human, for that matter. “Doesn’t look like much fun and I think it’s about to end anyway.”

“I guess…”

 Tryna stand up on my own two feet This conversation ain't comin' easily And darling, I know it's getting late So what do you say we leave this place?

 This time, Steve actually made an eye contact with the bartender, who eagerly rushed to him at instant. His excited expression fell when he noticed you were pulling out your wallet to close your tab. You didn’t have the strength to shoot him an apologetic smile.

Steve’s eyes were on you the whole time, you could feel them, and you wondered why. Until he spoke again, as soon as the other man left.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home,” he offered gentlemanly, coaxing you into saying yes, possibly unaware of the effect which such tone had on people.

Or perhaps he knew, using exactly that when he was trying to talk someone down, to calm them, gain their trust. The joke was on him, because it was a vain effort; you trusted him fully already. Surely, he knew that.

Right?

Trust was the solid base the team of Avengers needed and since you somehow found yourself with them, it involved you too. The team stood and fell on trust and mutual respect. But it meant so much more – they were friends. They cared about each other, about their well-being.

Right now, Steve was being a good friend and a good teammate.

And you were being exactly that too when you turned his kind proposition down.

“No, it’s fine. There are still some people who are actually able to speak coherently with you. Go enjoy yourself. I’ll be okay.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he pointed out, as if admonishing you for not noticing. Your eyebrow rose deliberately.

“…and?”

“And I’d feel better if you weren’t walking the streets alone,” he replied easily, ignoring the hint of snark in your comeback as you made your way to the coat-stand.

Still walking on the line of miserable and pleasantly buzzed, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mean to him for such patronizing approach. He had been raised this way and despite his open mind and admirable respect to women, he slipped sometimes.

“Steve, I’m a SHIELD agent basically turned Avenger. I can take care of my-“

“But you don’t have to. And-” He gestured subtly back towards the bar and a metaphorical lightbulb flickered above your head.

Not patronizing then, god forbid chauvinist; Peggy Carter would rise from the death to beat him with his own shield, with Natasha’s enthusiastic help, if he was showing any sign of aforementioned qualities and he was well-aware of that.

Just mother-henning then, the way Steve excelled at.

It brought the first honest smile of the night to your lips. You made sure to face him so he could see how wholesome his company was for you.

“I’m not too drunk, Steve. I had like two glasses of scotch,” you assured him, gently brushing his forearm before reaching for your coat and scarf. “And two beers.”

“I know,” he stated, stealing your coat only to hold it out for you to slip into it.

God, the woman who would once win his heart was about to be one lucky bitch.

Jim has never done this for me, flashed through your mind and you instantly shushed the whining voice in your head. Instead, you went over what he just said, blinking in surprise.

Huh? He… knew?

“I… might have kept an eye on you,” he admitted tentatively, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder before retreating and letting you to cocoon in the fabric.

“Why?”

Why would he keep an eye on you? Sure, teammates and friends and all that, but for some reason, you doubted he kept an eye on Tony, the only other Avenger (beside Steve, not Steve and you, you don’t count, a voice hissed in your mind and you winced) who attended the party, not being on any mission at the moment.

Why did Steve feel like you needed a chaperone?

No, that was too harsh of a word for him, you were certain his intentions were everything but malicious, but… why?

 Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

 The genuine wonder must have been audible in your voice, much like your shock must have been clear in your expression, because Steve seemed sheepish all of sudden, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, I mean, I know that you probably wouldn’t-“ he started, only to grimace. “It’s not that I think you’re an alcoholic! It’s just that... you--- and it’s only been-…“

-four days since you got dumped, you finished the unspoken sentence and tried your best to ignore the cold seeping into your bones at the reminder.

One of the reasons why you had been in a sour mood and deciding to drink alone. Your amazing asshole of a boyfriend had dumped you, metaphorically kicking you while you had already been down. Lovely.

“-I was worried. But you didn’t look like you were interested in having company, I didn’t want to be a bother and-“

You pulled Steve out of his misery by placing a hand over his forearm, which stopped the words spilling uncontrollably from his mouth.

He was actually being very sweet and thoughtful. It kinda made you feel bad, because… you weren’t looking for dragging someone down with you. As it was, he had his own reasons to not be happy about partying tonight, but feeling like he had to keep an eye on you probably didn’t help to lift his spirits.

“-and you had to spend some time with the woman of the hour,” you finished instead of him slowly, hoping you sounded at least half as thoughtful as he did and that you didn’t appear to be the greatest bitch, stealing attention from Sharon. “That’s understandable, Steve. It is her birthday party and I’m the one being antisocial.”

You bit down your lip, lowering your gaze, because the infamous worried wrinkle appeared on Steve’s forehead and you just knew he was about to protest and you… honestly felt bad about your behaviour and the welcoming colour of his eyes was not helping to make you feel any better, because of course he probably thought it was perfectly normal to look out for you instead of allowing himself to enjoy the night and- ugh.

“You… you shouldn’t have to look out for me. Your attention could have been fully on the birthday girl.”

Naturally, Steve Rogers basically shrugged it off. Covering your hand on him with his large palm, he slouched to look into your eyes once more. Insistent bastard, no doubt aware of your inability to say no to his amiable face.

“That’s what friends are for. Now, can I walk you home?”

You shook your head with a sad smile, rising your gaze towards the ceiling, hoping it came out as an exasperation at his stubbornness and not as it truly was – you in fact attempting to keep your tears at bay, because, miserable drunk, dumped four days ago apart from other things and there he was, asshole perfect, Steve fucking Rogers, gentleman and friend extraordinaire, caring for your well-being more than Jim ever had.

A twinkle appeared in his eye when he recognized he won and you chuckled, sealing his victory out loud.

“Yes, Steve. You can walk me home. It’s conveniently located on the way to yours.”

He smirked when he shrugged on his own coat. “Happy coincidences…”

 There's something in the way I wanna cry That makes me think we'll make it out alive So come on and show me how we're good I think that we could do some good, mhm

 Once you left the bar, silence fell on you, feeling heavy as did the cold November air.

Heavy and awkward. While you could tell with certainty you were barely affected by the alcohol you had drunk, your steps were wobbly, knees shaky as if you were a baby horse trying to stand up for the first time.

Steve walked by your side, majestic in his thigh-length coat, hands snugged in its pockets only halfway as if he was waiting for you needing his support. It irritated you as much as it warmed your heart.

On top of everything, you would swear every lone person you met stared at you, staring you up and down until they seemed to register Steve’s imposing frame and quickly went back to their business. It annoyed you to no end; it was just proving Steve’s point that you shouldn’t walk the streets alone at such hour, government agent or not.

“I would have been fine, you know,” you hummed, cautiously breaking the relative quiet.

It was never truly quiet in New York City, only rush hours alternating with calmer ones. You didn’t mind it; you enjoyed the city. Sometimes quiet meant that thoughts won the opportunity to become too loud; tonight, for some reason, despite the silence, Steve prevented that ever since he joined you.

It dawned to you then, how ungrateful you sounded and you quickly added “But thanks.” –  a whisper full of honesty.

“Uh-huh.”

Perhaps the silence weighted so much because your mood wasn’t the only cause of it.

Steve was showing you that he worried; surely, you could as well? Because you did, worry about him that was.

“…are you? Okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked distractedly, but you could hear the frown on his face, the image of his nose scrunched in confusion painted in front of your eyes even without looking at him.

“Just… today-” you nudged him once more and vaguely eyed your watch only to be reminded that ‘today’ was a confusing term. “Or, more like, yesterday…”

A sharp inhale was drawn at your side and you could sense as he started closing off, putting up his walls so no one would catch a scent of his weakness. You hated when he tried to do that. You would have thought you were past that. You liked to consider you two friends at least.

Tonight was simply not your night. Of either of you, apparently.

“What about it-?“

You sighed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Were you truly such a crappy company, an insensitive friend or was there something sorrowful and cranky in the air, preventing your communication channels from tuning to the same frequency?

You were aware what the day meant for him – another painful reminder of what he had lost with crashing the plane in the forties only to wake up in a new millennium.

Though this particular loss – of his mother – haunted him even back in what some people called his days. It was an utter non-sense. Steve belonged there as much as he belonged here. He was brave enough to try and stubborn enough to succeed in fitting in.

“Nothing, I guess,” you sighed once more, this time rolling your eyes. “…Mr. Nothing Can Touch Me.”

The wry nickname hung in the air for a while, the faint noise of the night city washing over your pair. When Steve broke it again, there was a barely audible crack in his voice.

“I… I’m okay. I think. I… should be. It’s been so long. Decades,” he mused, turning his gaze to the sky. His eyes glistened and if you didn’t know him, hadn’t witnessed his walls lowering before, you would have thought it was just the streetlights reflecting.

You knew better. Tentatively, your fingers brushed his, not remembering when his hands had left his pockets. You were grateful for it now, especially when he didn’t retrieve from your touch instantly.

“Not for you,” you pointed out quietly, rewarded by the softest squeeze of his warm hand.

The heaviness and tension you had felt before resolved with the gesture. Something finally fell into place and you were almost you again and he was almost him.

Two figures, carrying their griefcases, but functioning and… harmonizing once more.

“How did you know?”

“That’s what friends are for, Steve,” you echoed his earlier words, sending a tiny smile his way, meeting his glassy gaze. “They remember important dates, good or bad.”

“No one else did. Not that I can actually hold it against Buck, of course... but no one… you…” his voice trailed off as he lost his train of thought – or perhaps he had never truly directed it to the station in the first place.

Your shoulders moved a fraction, a hint of a shrug-off. His hand wrapped around yours tighter in silent appreciation, not showing any sign of intending to let go.

And you were alright with that. More than alright.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

His presence was always immense, overwhelming even; yet so comfortable you didn’t have the slightest problem with opening your heart to him, offering it to him even when it was bleeding. And now, finally tuned together, it was no different.

You bared your heart to him, even if it hurt.

“She didn’t make it,” you whispered, voice pained in the dead of the night and he didn’t react, letting you to gather strength to elaborate. You cleared your throat as the lump grew in it.  “Kayla, one of the kids… from last week’s mission. I found out yesterday… she-she didn’t make it, she had too many injuries. Word is that perhaps it was even a blessing. A relief.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve repented, his grip growing stronger just a fraction, enough to make your chest and eyes burn.

“Yeah, so am I.”

Whatever he heard in your voice, it caused his fingers twitch in your hand, his footsteps slowing down. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Wasn’t it? If I was faster, if I-“

Steve stopped in his tracks completely, pulling at your hand to make you do the same and face him.

You closed your eyes when his blue ones met them, unable to stand the urgency in them. His free hand curled around your shoulder, caressing in attempt at comfort.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that to yourself.” Hypocrite, you threw back at him in your mind, stubbornly keeping your eyelids shut, simply knowing that if you saw the sincerity in his gaze in addition to the fervour he spoke with, you might actually believe him. “You did your best. I know that, Nat and Buck know, everyone does. A monster you helped to put behind bars hurt the kids. Not you. You saved so many lives.”

You shook your head with a sigh, staring straight ahead as you turned on your heels and continued your path. Steve, never letting go of your hand, followed reluctantly.

“Sometimes I think he might have been right, you know?”

Peripherally, you saw him frown again and you cursed yourself for drinking – it untangled your tongue and his stupid face made your spill your guts to him, vomit emotion. You weren’t too secretive about your feelings most of the time, but damn, you hated how alcohol pushed your boundaries of sharing them.

“… Jim. He said that maybe I should give it up. That I’m just running alongside you, heroes, pretending to be one of you, but in the end, I’m not even close to being as good-“

Steve’s feet took roots in the ground, his steely grip forcing you to stop – as long as you wanted to keep your hand attached, which yeah, you kinda did.

“I feel like taking a detour now,” he muttered darkly and for a short moment, confusion was everything you felt, blissfully overtaking the anger, the sorrow, the helplessness and the feeling of utter uselessness.

“Huh?”

“Where does Jim live?” Steve spitted out the name venomously and you couldn’t help the wave of affection washing over you. Affection towards this treasure of a man who apparently wanted to punch another human being because it offended his friend. “He has no business saying something like that. Especially if his bullshit actually affects you-”

“Steve, he wasn’t wrong, I’m just-“ you sputtered, caught off guard when you registered the fire in his glare.

“We all make mistakes. But that’s beside the point, because you didn’t even make any that day. I read the report, and I know you, you put everything you got and more into the rescue mission. How can he-“ he hissed, literally taking a calming breath as both of his hands balled into fist.

Well, one of them only nearly, since it was still holding yours. It actually stung a bit, the bones in your hand close to grinding against each other.

“-I haven’t met him many times, but if he said that instead of comforting you after an incredibly draining mission, then I’m glad that that asshole is gone from your life. … though I would still appreciate his address.”

Blinking away the few stray tears that welled up, you forced a smile as Steve’s strict glare found yours. It felt good, seeing his indignation; having someone else exasperated on how Jim had reacted. He should have given you a hug and hold you tight; that was what you would wish for. Instead, he told you to stop complaining and when you accused him of not supporting you, he called you a whiny bitch who should make up her damn mind and broke things off.

You deeply appreciated Steve’s display of chivalry, hell, you half-considered giving away the address just so Jim would hear someone else agreeing with you, but you were honestly just tired. And you had a feeling Steve wouldn’t stay only at words and seeing any more blood, any more aggression would have been too much for you tonight.

Tonight, you… you needed serenity and comfort.

“…thank you. That… that means a lot. But… maybe just walk me home? Please? Could you walk me home, Steve?” you pleaded softly, barely audible, not caring it sounded like weeping of a needy child.

Unbeknownst to you, that was the last thing you resembled in Steve’s eyes. Your imploring gaze, vulnerable and open, it moved something inside him, his anger silenced for the moment, leaving him defenceless, unable to say no. Not that he had an intention to do so. He always had trouble saying no to you.

So he forced his fists to relax, running his thumb over the back of your hand and whispered the only word that made sense.

“Always.”

You settled back to the comfortable silence after that.

 Walk me home in the dead of night 'Cause I can't be alone with all that's on my mind Say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on

 You reached the Tower hand in hand.

Neither of you released the other. Not during the elevator ride, not when you walked the halls lined with doors leading to each’s private quarters.

You were still holding onto each other when you came to a stop in front of your door; rest assured, Steve Rogers would lead you right to your door even if his was only at the end of the very same corridor.

Standing nearly chest to chest, his eyes bored into yours with seriousness that surprised you.

“For the record, you do a great deal of good,” he reassured you, saying it as if he truly meant it. It tugged at your heart, sweet and bitter. “You’re amazing and you’re the most authentic of all of us. I admire you.”

That claim caused you to chuckle. Now he was laying it on a bit thick, downright exaggerating.

“You admire me? Steve, that’s really nice of you to say, but don’t be ridi-“

Your words died in your throat when his large palm splayed over your cheek, cradling it gently. When the paddle of his thumb swiped over your other cheek, soft smile playing on his lips, his irises bright with a promise, time seemingly stopped along with your heart.

“And you’re a great friend to the whole team, a wonderful person. Do me a favour and finally learn to accept a compliment,” he asked of you in hushed voice, the electric blue and green of his eyes locking you in. “If he didn’t praise you enough for you to get used to it, he was doing something wrong.”

You gulped, a silly association with the word ‘praise’ allowing you to break from the cage of his gaze that had previously had your mind gone blank.

“I’m not a dog to be praised, Steve…”

One corner of his lips – and when did they got so close anyway? – twitched. And then a tender kiss landed on your forehead, just the softest brush of lips against your skin. The gesture, utterly incomprehensible for you, had your eyelids flutter shut.

“I’m very much aware. Believe me, doll, I know. Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

You only nodded at the ridiculous statement – why was he thanking you? – too perplexed at the fact his lips had made contact with your skin. When did you cross the line towards the delusional drunk?

His fingertips caressed your face as he let go, wishing you to have a good night. Too baffled, you were unable to respond until he had already made his way to his door and you suddenly missed the warmth of his presence.

Breaking free from your haze, you acted on impulse, apparently startling him when you called his name out of blue so urgently.

“Steve!”

Whipping his head around to look at you, you felt your heart jump into your throat.

“Uh… are you ready to go to bed or… or maybe… would you like to watch a movie or something?” With me?

I don’t think I’m ready to be alone. Ready to be without you.

Even from the distance, you would swear you saw his lips spread in a slow honey-sweet smile.

“I think I’d like that,” he called out lowly. “Ten minutes? I’ll get the blankets. You pick the movie.”

“See you in ten then.”

You pretended that your heart didn’t flutter, sending a wave of familiar tingle through your chest and to your fingers, as you slipped inside your room with your mouth curled up in a content smile.

 Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong There is so much wrong There is so much wrong going on outside

*✧･ Bonus *✧･

If Tony found them two and half hour later, closing credits rolling, the pair curled up and cuddling on the couch, you fast asleep in Steve’s arms, and he noticed that the supersoldier was in fact only faking to avoid an interrogation from the Ironman himself, he didn’t mention it. He just whispered to FRIDAY to turn off the TV and turn off the dimmed lights completely.

He hoped Rogers would treat you the way you deserved, unlike the man who now had farts announcing a received e-mail or texts, unable to change it, and a laptop turning on randomly, dead-pale children staring at him from the screen with hollow eyes and in clothes dripping water. Tony would hate to have to hack more tech again just to avenge your broken heart without your knowledge any time soon.

He’d rather suffer watching the two of his friends being disgustingly sweet on each other.

Probably.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

S.R. masterlist

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

Silent thanks to the person who came up with the word ‘griefcase’ as an alternative to emotional baggage.

Also, I’m pretty sure songfics aren’t supposed to be so long... oops?

Thank you for reading!

[hesgunnalovethis]

Not That Bad

Leonard McCoy x Reader

Summary: You have the severity of your injuries in a twist sending Leonard McCoy’s blood pressure through the roof

TW: injury descriptions and strong language 

ft. bestie Jim Kirk <333

Masterlist!

Word Count: 1737

“Yes. No. I understand Mr Spock. Cuttings on your desk in 40 minutes. Got it.” You closed your comm and checked your watch. 

 You’d spent 16 hours Planetside and after a complication that had landed most crew in the MedBay, you agreed to help out botany to complete the mission report. Really you didn’t have a clue what you were doing but you concluded it couldn’t be that hard. 

 Cross referencing the plants in front of you to the list on your PADD, you picked up the plier looking utensil and began clipping the stems from the root. 

 “Maybe I should transfer to science.” You muttered to yourself after you’d successfully pressed the first few cuttings into their sample bags. 

Taking the next stem between your fingers you picked up the pliers and cut through the green and your fingertip, simultaneously. Blood shot upwards from your finger. You scoffed at the inconvenience. 

 You grabbed the first aid kit and examined the content that your Chief Medical Officer boyfriend had once talked you through and began to wish you’d listened. 

 Failing to remember anything, you wrapped a plaster around the top of your finger and watched it turn from white to red almost immediately. You tried layering another on top which bled through just as fast. After a failed third layer you took yourself from the lab and started towards the MedBay. 

 You stopped for a moment scouring your brain for which corridors to take. It had been so long since you’d actually journeyed to the MedBay by choice. You’d been utilising your doctor shared quarters. 

 Arriving at the desk you checked your watch again. 20 minutes before Spock was expecting you. You began to panic and turned to the receptionist. 

 “Could you ask Doctor McCoy to see me? It’s pretty urgent.” You said, grabbing a bundle of tissues from the display to contain the droplets falling from your finger. 

 The receptionist did as you asked and you heard Leonard through the comm.

 “On the bridge?” He asked. 

 “No, Sir. Here in the MedBay.” The receptionist in front of you responded. 

 “In the Med-“ You heard a fuss beginning through the comm and then a room number you were to be assigned. 

 No sooner had you arrived, a half scrubbed in Leonard burst through the door desperately searching for what heinous emergency had beckoned you to his MedBay. 

 “Are you being serious right now!?” Leonard asked ripping off the last of his scrub uniform. 

 “Always good to see you too, Lee.” You responded, smiling. 

 Sighing softly he shot you an apologetic look and planted a kiss on your cheek. 

 “Hi, darlin’” He whispered letting down his doctor guard and allowing his southern drawl back in. He began to look you over again, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

 You lifted your hand removing the tissue to reveal your slightly bloodied finger. Leonard took a step back rubbing his temples. 

 “Y/N, darlin’. PUT A PLASTER ON IT?!”

 “I tried that! It keeps bleeding though!” You whined. 

 “There are people DYING in here, Y/N.” 

 “Oh go on, please. I have lab work due in 15 minutes and I can’t work with this bleeding all over the samples!” 

 Leonard sighed and moved to the other side of the room to collect the dermal regenerator. Taking your hand in his he kissed the cut before placing it under the machine.

 He caught your eyes with his. “I left a 6 hour surgery for this.” 

 - 

 The next day you took your healed finger with you on your next mission where your team successfully released several hostages and transported their authoritative grasp to Enterprise Security.  

 “All clear, Jim.” You said to your comm after clearing the last room on your final check. 

 “Received. Take the turbolift to the bridge and let’s get out of here.” 

 Stepping into the foreign tube you found it very similar to Starfleet’s and got it moving towards the bridge. You began to hear Jim’s voice on the other side before the lift stumbled to a halt. 

 “Um, Jim?” You shouted through the metal. 

 “Great.” Jim said clocking the flashing error sign on the lift. “Don’t worry Lieutenant. We’ll... pry it open.” 

 “Full proof.” You said to yourself, getting ready to pull from your side. 

 After a brief plan outline and a countdown you began to pull. A small gap opened to the side and you managed to squeeze your body through before the door clattered closed on your newly regenerated finger. 

 “Again?! Why is it always you?” You asked your finger, pulling it from the metals grip and eying the purple residue left on it. 

 “Me?” Jim asked, doubled over from the effort he’d just exerted, before being distracted by his comm, “Bones! Yes, just calling to let you know of the ZERO injuries incoming to the MedBay!”

 “Zero injuries?” You cut him off. “This is a broken bone for sure.” 

 “Oh my god.” Jim said in disgust looking at the weird purple oil all over the metal, your finger and subsequently his uniform. “Why is it that colour?!” 

 “Dammit, Jim.” You heard through the comm before Leonard hung up and Jim reconnected to the transporter room. 

 You arrived back on the transporter pad to Leonard’s eyes burning a hole in you and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

 “Broken bone?” He said walking towards you.

 “This bastard finger.” You said and Leonard took your wrist to examine it.  

 “THIS-“ He stopped abruptly and calmed himself. “This is a finger, Y/N. BARELY a bone.” He examined it further, “I’m not even convinced that’s broken?” 

 “Tell you what though, it really fucking hurts.” You petted your lip at him. 

 Slipping an arm around your waist he led you out of the transporter room and towards the MedBay. “Let’s get you patched up sweetheart, but we really have to talk about your hyperbole.” 

 -

 It was a few days before you were due to arrive at your next destination and Jim had roped you into helping with his ensign combat training. 

 “It’s basically target practice.” Jim said in conclusion to a confused looking group of redshirts. “The phasers I’ve given you won’t shoot, but will read on the side if you’ve hit your target. It’s like laser tag! You’ve all played laser tag, right?” The room was silent. “And that’s another added to the list of shore leave activities.” 

 “Captain Kirk and I will be over here as moving targets.” You started, taking over from Jim. “Try and shoot me without hitting the Captain. Got it?” 

 You and Jim moved over to the course beginning the same choreographed fight you’d been using for years. You heard the pathetic fake phaser shots over and over and were beginning to question almost all of your life choices as a deafening shot fired and struck your side. 

 “Y/N!” Jim fell to your side, “PHASERS DOWN!” He shouted to the group briefly trying to determine which one hadn’t followed his only instruction ‘Do not bring your own phaser.’ 

 There was a small commotion before you heard Jim’s voice again. “Kirk to MedBay I need a team to training room 1 immediately.” 

 You found yourself back in the same biobed you’d frequented for past 3 days consecutively and tried to keep up with the nurses’ quick conversations. 

 “Someone page McCoy now.” You heard one of them say. 

 “Not Leonard-“ You interrupted, “He’ll jus- is there anyone else?”

 “Not anyone who could patch you up like Doctor McCoy.” One of the nurses stated opening their comm. “Doctor McCoy to room 6. On the double. It’s-“ 

 “Lieutenant Y/L/N?” Leonard cut off the nurse. 

 “Yes.” She replied. 

 “For once I’m not even surprised.” 

 The nurses continued fussing around you and your biobed beeps became angrier. 

 You watched the door open and Leonard’s face turn from passiveness to urgency in a millisecond. 

 “My god!” He shouted, dropping his board and beginning to order nurses to different machines connected to your bed. 

 “Listen, Leonard it’s not THAT bad.” 

 “NOT THAT BAD?! YOU’VE BEEN SHOT?!”  Leonard flicked his eyes between you and your vitals. 

 “Yeah, but, shot in a controlled environment.” 

 “You’ve been in here with a cut and a stave, guns blazing, and now you’ve been shot it’s ‘NOT THAT BAD?!’” 

 “Granted this doesn’t look-“ You were cut off by a wave of pain that sent you wincing. 

 “Hell.” Leonard turned to his own station briefly. “You’re not gonna like this sweetheart but you can tell me all about it when you’re back in one piece.” Leonard planted a kiss on your head and a hypo in your neck, sending you into sleep. 

-

Coming back to, you heard your biobed beeping at a normal rhythm and a strong accent beside you. 

 “I don’t care what his test scores are, he shot a Lieutenant I want him gone.” 

 “Leonard.” You scolded. 

 “Darlin’” He moved to you instantly closing his comm without a word. “How are you feeling?”

 “I’m fine. Sore neck.” You said rubbing where he’d hypo’d you. His eyes were still racked with worry. “It was an accident. That’s why we train them we-“ 

 “Darlin’ if he isn’t removed from this ship the only accident will be me prescribing him with cyanid capsules instead of his iron tablets.” He looked over your vitals again before picking up his clipboard, “But you let me worry about that. You can worry about this.” He handed you a laminated sheet entitled ‘Doctor McCoy’s Guide to a Serious Injury.’ 

 You shot him an annoyed look. 

 “Just so there’s no more confusion.” He winked at you. You glanced over the ‘Serious Injury: To Be Reported’ column. 

 “I hardly think ‘A sudden cough’ is a serious injury, Leonard.” You scoffed. 

 “Oh sure. Let’s just let your DNA de-evolve into non humane codes exterminating crucial pairings.” 

 “Noted.” You said admiring the doctor’s bedside manner, “Is there a second page?” You said spotting another sheet in his hand. 

 “No. This is Jim’s copy.” Leonard replied. 

 “Of course.” 

 Leonard brushed your hair behind your ears and smoothed your forehead. “I’m glad you’re finally visiting the MedBay doll, but I would prefer if you kept your trips to mandatory immunisations and essential check-ups.” 

 “I wouldn’t hold your breath, Doctor.” You said brushing your lips against his. 

“And somehow I still wouldn’t change you for the world.” Leonard said quietly before closing the space left between you.

[wonder-womans-ex]

See It In Your Eyes

The sequel to ‘Cause Boy I was Made for You 

When Finn O'Hara was eleven years old, he got two things for Christmas: an Iron Man action figure and a telling off. There were probably other things, too, but in ten years (or eleven, or twelve, or even thirty for that matter) he wouldn't be able to remember them. 

But the action figure had been the one he'd eyed in the toy store window for the past seven months, and the telling off had been from his Aunt Isla. 

"There are two things you must never ask a lady," she had scolded. "Her age, and to see the mark on her wrist. Remember that, Finnegan." 

(For the record, he hadn't asked to see her wrist. He had asked her to pass him the stuffing, and he'd said "What's that?" when her sleeve got bunched up around her elbow.) (Not like she cared.)  

***

When Logan Tremblay was eleven years old, he nearly broke his jaw. One of the boys on his team tied his shoelaces together after practice and he fell and smashed his face on the locker room bench. 

After three and a half hours in the ER, he met his own eyes in the bathroom mirror, cheek swollen comically huge, and thought, don’t let it get to you, even though it already had. 

***

When Leo Knut was eleven years old, he got his first job. Sure, it was only a paper route, but to Leo, it was everything. Not only was he making money (real, actual money; his dad couldn’t tell him his Monopoly skills were just pure luck anymore) but he was the first in his family to learn anything interesting. One morning, halfway through his rounds, he flipped to the sports page. The words Local Team Manager Loses Job over Sexuality glared up at him. 

At lunchtime, when his parents asked about the news lately, he merely shrugged and took another bite of his taco. 

*** 

When Finn O’Hara was fifteen years old, he fell in love for the first time. Not with a person, no, but no one could deny that he was in love—by the fourth rewatch of Mamma Mia, his mother was resigned to promising him extra dessert if he would please, for the love of God, just sing anything else.

***

When Logan Tremblay was fifteen years old, he and his sister Noelle woke up at five in the morning on April Fool’s to rig their house. Noelle, admittedly, was behind most of it, but Logan came up with five spectacular (if he did say so himself) pranks: baking soda in the cereal and vinegar in the milk, which caused his father’s breakfast to fizz and explode the moment he poured it out; semi-permanent hair dye in his mother’s shampoo (her hair kept the blue tint for almost a month); all the hard-boiled eggs in the fridge swapped out for raw ones and vice versa; glue in his father’s shaving cream; and, just because he felt like it, all the toilet paper in the house hidden in the downstairs freezer. The day was a bright spot in a patch of darkness—it had been only a week before that he had found the tumblr post about anxiety symptoms and thought, maybe…

***

When Leo Knut was fifteen years old, he quit baseball—for good this time. His coach was confused as to why anyone would give up an 84 mph fastball and a glove that could catch any pop fly in favour of the ice, but Leo was sure. Hockey was his destiny. The pitcher’s mound had nothing to offer him, not anymore. 

***

When Finn O’Hara was eighteen years old, he met Logan Tremblay. His first thought—though he would not accept it until years later—was, He has very nice lips. I would like to kiss them. His second, mere moments later, was, Wait shit no fuck no dammit shit fuck.

***

When Logan Tremblay was eighteen years old, he began to wonder who his soulmate was. Maybe she would have coffee-brown eyes and a gap between her front teeth, the perfect height for him to rest his chin on top of her head. Maybe she would be taller, with wide hips and sharp elbows and long eyelashes. 

He tried to shake his fantasies of fiery red hair and gorgeous grins, because Logan was a hockey player and hockey players weren’t queer. 

*** 

Leo Knut is eighteen years old, and he is being pulled down a dimly lit hallway by Finn O’Hara. His wrist is warm beneath Finn’s grasp, his heart beating a little too fast for his liking. 

“Where are we going?” Logan asks from his place at the end of Finn’s other arm, but he gets no answer. 

Finally, they reach what Leo assumes is their destination: the…. Well, Leo isn’t sure where they are, actually. Some sort of storage room, he guesses, judging by the net in the corner. 

He still has no idea why they’re there. 

Logan is looking at Finn expectantly, a curious expression on his face. He looks like he knows what’s happening, and the thought bites at Leo’s heart. Great—he’s the only clueless one here. 

Finn takes a deep breath, and then another. “Hi,” he begins, and then stops. 

Not sure which of them he should look at, Leo focuses on a spot on the wall between Logan’s and Finn’s heads. He senses one of them watching him. He doesn’t check which it is. 

“So,” Finn tries again. “Ugh. I’m bad at this.”

“What exactly is ‘this’?” Logan’s brow, when Leo sneaks a glance at him, is furrowed, only a sliver of green eyes visible beneath his squint. 

There’s a thunk as Finn lets his head fall back against the wall. “This is me finally deciding to man up and tell you I’m in love with you.” 

Leo’s head turns to look at Logan so fast his neck hurts. He sees Logan blink once, and then twice. 

***

Finn meets Logan’s eyes. He can practically feel the electricity crackling between them. 

Because Logan knows.

He has to. 

He has to know that Finn’s heart nearly beats out of his chest every time Logan smiles. He has to know that sometimes he’ll be talking to someone, anyone—Cap, or Coach Weasley, or the press—and he’ll think about Harvard and he’ll forget how to breathe. Logan is half of Finn’s heart. 

But whether or not Logan knows it, the look on his face says he feels the same. Finn feels his lips start to curve into a smile. 

And then Leo says, “Why am I here, then?”

There are a hundred ways Finn could answer that question. One of them is ‘Why wouldn’t you be?’ and another is ‘I don’t know.’ He could be passionate. He could be tactful. He could be poetic or blunt or gentle or any of those things. 

What he goes with, in the end, is philosophical. 

“Who decides it’s wrong?” Finn says to the floor. “Any of it. The feeling. The wanting. The having, even. If it’s real, then how can it be wrong?”

He can’t see Logan’s face, nor Leo’s, but he imagines they must be confused. He goes on, not entirely sure he knows what he’s saying and not entirely sure he cares. “And maybe it’s destiny. And maybe it isn’t. Why does it matter? If it’s real and painful and there for the taking, why bother about whether it’s supposed to be?” 

Finally, he looks up. He senses that one of them is going to say something, and whichever it is, he cuts them off. 

“Maybe it’s not you. Fuck, maybe it isn’t either of you, and maybe I’m the only one who thinks it should be. But it has to mean something, doesn’t it? Because if it doesn’t… why bother at all?” 

And maybe, Finn thinks, I’m going to start crying.

***

Logan, mind still wheeling, is the only one who gets an inkling of what Leo is going to do before he does it. Finn certainly doesn’t, and he’s not quite sure Leo does either. 

He grabs Finn by the collar and pulls him up, their faces smashing together, red and gold curls tangling between their foreheads. Logan watches them slowly break apart, far enough away to lock eyes, yet still so close they’re breathing into each other’s mouths. His heart surges—with jealousy, yes, but also with something fiery and sweet. Something akin to excitement, or—dare he say—love. 

“Whoa,” he says out loud, not realizing it until Leo and Finn both glance over at him. His cheeks start to colour.

Then Leo places a hand on his shoulder and leans down to kiss him, too. This one is more gentle by far that the previous; a dance rather than a battle. It makes sense—Finn’s always been the brash one, the impulsive one, while Logan is tentative, sturdy—and it seems fitting that Leo is the one to remind them of that. 

Logan still doesn’t know what they’re doing there. 

Well, he knows what they’re doing, of course. They’re kissing. But he doesn’t know why Finn picked now to haul them halfway across Hogwarts arena and make it happen. Maybe if he really thought about it, something would come to him. 

But of course he’s not going to think about it, because Leo is still kissing him. 

When one of them finally pulls away—Logan isn’t sure who—Leo reaches one hand up and touches Logan’s lip. They stay there for a long moment, neither of them moving, before calloused fingers carefully skate across his waist. He turns towards Finn. 

They surge forward together, meeting in the middle. One of Finn’s hands fists in Logan’s hair, the other slipping under his shirt, as they kiss for the first time in nearly four years. 

He can taste salt. One of them is crying; it’s probably him.

When Logan starts to break away, desperate for air, Finn chases his mouth. Within a few seconds, though, he’s pulled back, too. It’s almost simultaneously that they remember there’s another person in the room. 

Leo’s lip is between his teeth as he worries at it. He doesn’t speak for a long moment; the silence, before it shatters, if practically tangible. “You two have history,” he says, like it’s a question he already knows the answer to. 

“We do,” Finn answers easily. There’s something fierce in his eyes. “But it’s the future that matters.”

Logan wishes Finn would stop sounding like Plato. Or Socrates. Or Aristotle. One of them, anyway. Finn is an American in his 20’s, not a 2000-something-year-old Greek. In any case, mystery is decidedly not Finn’s colour. 

Leo shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean, then?” 

“I mean you guys are—you’re practically—” he breaks off. One of his hands moves towards Logan, only stopping when it hovers mere centimetres from his wrist. “May I?” 

“I—sure.” Logan’s heart skips a beat when their fingers brush. Leo gently turns his hand so Logan’s palm is up, and it’s not until Leo starts to push his sleeve away that Logan realizes what he’s doing. 

But by then it’s too late—those three paw prints he spends so much time agonizing over are on display, no longer private, no longer just for him. For a split second, he considers covering his wrist again and leaving. But he does no such thing. 

Because if he can’t trust Finn and Leo, he can’t trust anyone. 

Finn’s mouth opens slightly in surprise. “It’s—” he says, and there’s barely any hesitation before he’s pulled his sleeve up, too. 

It takes a moment before Finn’s soulmark registers in Logan’s mind. When he does, he starts to smile. 

They’re soulmates. 

***

Leo feels his jaw clench. He knows he should be happy for them—and he is, really. They’ll smile at each other, and they’ll kiss again, and they’ll go on with their lives as that one couple who are so in love it hurts to look at them. 

He turns away when tears start to pool in his eyes. He’ll go back to the locker room; they obviously want to be alone right now. “I’ll just… yeah.”

Just as soon as he takes his first step towards the door, Finn grabs his arm. “Wait,” he says, and Leo stops. 

“Logan and I are soulmates,” says Finn, all in one breath, “But there are three prints. Not two. And I know that it’s rare, but Re—but I’ve been told it’s possible. That it’s happened before.”

Leo thinks he knows, but he has to make sure. “Do you mean—do you think we’re—”

“I know you’re only eighteen,”  Finn continues. “And I know there’s no way of knowing for a while. But does it matter? Even… even if I’m wrong? I love you—I love both of you—soulmates or not.” 

Leo waits for one of the others to say something more. When neither does, he wonders why, and quickly comes to the conclusion that it’s because they’re waiting for him to say something. 

“Who told you?” he asks the moment it pops into his head. It’s not the best thing he could say, but it’s not the worst, either. 

“Told me what?” 

“You said someone told you it was possible to have two soulmates. Who was it?”

There’s a pause as Finn cracks one of his knuckles, deep in thought. “Loops,” he whispers, but not until Leo has decided he’s not going to say anything at all. “I was talking to Loops yesterday, and I told him I thought… anyway, he said I should tell you.”

“You told him we’re soulmates?” Logan’s eyes are wide and fearful. “He knows we’re…?”

“Not you guys, no. Well, Leo, maybe. I just said you were both on the team, that’s all.”

“But you would have had to say something about my age,” Leo concludes, the dots starting to connect in his head. “And I’m the only one who’s not nineteen yet.”

“Yeah.” 

Logan swallows, the almost comical gulp audible in the quiet room, and he crosses his arms over his chest. There’s something about the gesture, however, that tells Leo it’s an act of protection, not defiance. “He’s not going to… tell anyone, is he?”

“No. And if he doesn’t, I won’t.” 

“What?” Leo thinks he might be missing something. 

“He won’t tell anyone we’re… gay.” It’s the first time any of them have said it—that three-letter word that, in their profession, could ruin everything. “Because he has his own secrets. There’s a difference between being ashamed of something and wanting to keep it private.” 

Logan’s eyes widen slightly. “You mean… we’re not the only ones?” His voice is incredulous, choked with emotion, and Leo reaches out a hand to him. 

“I don’t think we ever were.” 

***

Finn feels as though he’s floating. No—this is better than floating. This is dreaming. At any moment, he’s going to wake up staring at the ceiling of his bedroom with Leo asleep just a wall away. A mile away. 

It’s like he’s watching, not experiencing, the way Logan’s fingers twine with Leo’s, love overflowing from the gaze they share. He’s imagining the kiss Logan leans forward to plant on his cheek. Leo’s arm wrapping itself around his shoulders is all in his head. 

But it isn’t. Without having to speak, the three of them make their way out of the storage room and back into the hall—blond and brunet hand in hand, blond holding redhead so close it seems he’ll never let go. Finn leans into the warm body to his side, and he feels Leo stagger slightly as Logan does, too. They seem as though they would be perfect on the cover of a book, or a movie poster—Three’s Company, his mind provides, and he files it away just in case he ever decides he wants to sell the rights to his life story. 

He’s a long way from that, though. After all, it’s been barely half an hour since they started to unravel this knot they’ve spent so long tangling themselves into, and right now all Finn needs to do is try his best to make sure they don’t get tied up again. 

The locker room is almost abandoned. Pascal’s packing up the last of his stuff, and he smiles when they enter. Logan, for one, stiffens slightly in fear, but it doesn’t seem like there’s any need to. Indeed, the only thing Pascal says as he does up the zipper of his bag is, “Be good to him,” and none of them knows who he’s talking to, so they all nod. 

Finn waits until they have the room to themselves to pull Logan close to him. “It’ll be okay,” he says. “I promise.”

“But if people find out—”

“Then we’ll have to deal with that—all of us will. But you don’t have to be afraid. The team’s family. And family means no one gets lost behind or forgotten.” 

Logan nods, chewing his lower lip. It’s obvious when the gravity of Finn’s words clicks in his head—the expression on his face twists into one of confusion. “Wait a second—why does that sound familiar?”

“Because it’s from Lilo and Stitch.” 

Swiveling his head towards Leo, Finn stage whispers, “Shhhhh!” This gets a smile out of Logan. 

“I knew I’d heard it before somewhere. Shame on you, Finn—plagiarizing the words of an innocent blue alien!” He stops, blinking. “There’s something I never thought I’d say.” 

Finn smiles. This is his life now. He thinks he’ll have a lot of fun getting used to it.

***

Skates swishing over the ice, Logan lets the world fall away. He stops thinking about everything—even Finn’s contagious laughter and Leo’s broad grin fade from his mind as he gets closer and closer to the goal. 

Almost there, almost there—

He shoots. The puck whizzes past Kasey’s elbow, only barely missing him. 

“Nice one, Tremblay!”

Moody is nodding in approval. Logan feels a rush of pride—it’s an easy, everyday drill, something he’s been able to do in his sleep since he was a kid, but praise is always a good thing. When he can’t have a cheering crowd, he might as well have a coach who admires his talents. 

“Merci!” he says, beaming, and then, on second thought, adds, “I’d be surprised if it wasn’t!” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Finn and Leo bump shoulders. His heart swells—they love each other, and he loves that they love each other. Somehow, he finds it hard to believe it’s only been a day since the storage room and the kissing and—

“Tremblay!” Logan is shocked back out of his thoughts by Coach Weasley’s (albeit slightly amused) shout. “Stop daydreaming and take another shot!”

“Yes, Coach.” 

He’s sweating by the time he’s finally allowed to sit down again. He takes a swig of Gatorade, watching Finn try and sneak up behind him. 

“Boo!”

“Hi, Fish.”

“Dammit.” Two red eyebrows lift and fall again. “How’d you know I was here?”

“I saw you. You’re not inconspicuous.”

“You don’t just love me so much you could sense me from halfway across the world?”

Logan can’t help it—he glances around furtively, heart pounding, hoping desperately that no one heard Finn’s comment. “Well, that, too,” he adds, once he’s sure everyone else is sufficiently distracted. “But mostly that ginger head of yours just sticks out like a sore thumb. I call you mon rouge for a reason, you know.”

“Fuck you.”

"Peut-être plus tard.”

“In English, please?”

“...Maybe later.”

“But I want to know now.”

(If only he knew.)

Logan feels giddy as he realizes they really do have time for ‘maybe later.’ They have time, and they’ve earned it. After all, it’s been a day. It’s been eight years. 

It’s been forever. 

***

It’s almost a year later that Leo wakes up in an empty bed. He yawns, stretches, arches his back and hears his joints pop. For a moment, he wonders where his boys—even now, the thought that they really are his boys makes him unbelievably happy—are. 

Then he hears the voices from the kitchen. A smile spreads across his face at the exclamation of “Oh, shit!” and he swings his legs over the side of the bed, placing his feet on the floor and preparing for whatever disaster may greet him. 

(Honestly, who thought letting Finn and Logan cook was a good idea?)

And true enough, the moment walks into the kitchen he’s greeted by two things: the grinning faces of his boyfriends, and the smell of smoke. 

“What’s burning?”

“The bacon.” 

“Of course it is.” He reaches over, taking the pan from Finn, and scrutinizes it. “Salvageable,” he declares, “But please never try to make anything other than instant ramen again.”

Logan nods sheepishly. “Sorry,” he says. “We just wanted to make you something special. Y’know, for your birthday.” 

Right. 

His birthday. 

He’d actually forgotten about that. 

He’s not sure how—it’s all he’s been able to think about for almost a month now it’s here and he knows all three of them have the same thing on their minds. Sure, he’s excited, but right now, he’s leaning a little more towards terrified. Today’s the day. 

But he knows, when he lets a very real grin spread across his face, that they won’t pressure him. They know it’s his choice, and they’ll respect that. He has nothing to worry about except for the fact that the smoke detector is around six seconds away from going off. 

“Here,” he instructs Logan, putting the frying pan down on the stove. “Grab the fan from the bathroom—the little portable one—and bring it in here if you don’t want the fire department racing lights-and-fucking-sirens down our street.”

“Oui.” 

“Finn… just try not to set anything else on fire.” 

The hustle and (incredibly mild, all considering) panic only lasts for a few minutes. Finally, Leo presses a kiss to the top of Logan’s head, ruffling Finn’s hair, and opens the fridge. “Thanks for the breakfast, by the way.”

“Anytime.”

“...Or not.”

They all laugh at this, and when Leo grabs the milk and pours out three glasses, he watches them. He sees Finn pull out Logan’s chair with an exaggerated bow, glancing over and smiling when he and Leo lock eyes. 

It’s the classic movie dilemma. Will he, won’t he. Won’t he, will he. 

He waits until they’re all seated to bring it up. In the meantime, he rubs his wrist through the long-sleeved shirt he wore to bed yesterday for this very reason. It meant he was warm last night, but at least he gets a choice this morning. 

“So.”

Finn and Logan both look up. “Yeah, Peanut?” one of them asks—probably Finn, but Leo’s mind is too far away to give it much thought. 

“Are we going to talk about it?”

This time, it’s definitely Logan who responds, shrugging and poking at his bacon before saying, “Do you want to?”

“I think so.”

Here Finn cuts in. “I only have one thing to say, and that’s that whatever’s on your wrist? It doesn’t change anything. You’re mine—you’re ours—no matter what. We don’t have to be soulmates to be in love.” 

“I know that. I just… I used to feel like I was missing something, you know? It’s been ages since I did, but at the beginning I felt like this was your relationship, and I was just an extra part of it.” 

“I… I didn’t know you felt that way.” Logan’s eyes are earnest, emotional. Leo thinks he might see tears there. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. No, really—I felt that way, sure, but I don’t anymore. I know you guys love me. That’s what matters. I’m just tired of having the ability to tell myself I don’t belong, and this… this is what confirms it either way. 

“I want to know. I really do. But I can’t help being afraid of the answer.” 

Finn opens his mouth to speak, but Logan beats him to it. “It’s your choice. Whatever you decide to do, we’re here for you. You can do it today, you can do it tomorrow, you can do it in a year, you can do it never. Je t’aime, mon amour. Toujours.”

Time seems to slow down in the instant it takes Leo to reach into the deepest recesses of himself to gather all the courage he can find, take a deep breath, and pull up his left sleeve. His hands are hidden under the table, so neither Logan nor Finn knows what’s happened until Leo’s face spreads into the widest smile he’s ever worn and a choked, happy sob escapes his lips. 

He can see in both their eyes the instant they realize—Finn first, Logan following mere instants later—and he rubs a thumb over the golden print. Somehow, he knows that one’s his. 

He’s already seen this mark a hundred thousand times, but it feels so much more real there on his skin, blue and golden and green and—

“Yeah.” They know what he means. He wants to shout it out loud, sing it boldly as he walks down the street, because they’re his soulmates, and the only thing that matters more than that is that they’re in love. 

thanks to @peggyrose19 for betaing and @lumosinlove for the incredible characters <3

[patriciasage]

imposter syndrome

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Amnesty

Summary:

“Yeah,” Duck laughs, “I just… We gotta put a pause on this, man. That abomination’s out there and I need to get back to –” He’s cut off by Indrid’s mouth on his again. This time he feels a flutter of unease in his chest. Indrid is acting strange.

Most people interrupt Duck during his disfluencies, trying to finish his sentence for him or change the subject. But ever since Duck told him about his discomfort with that, Indrid waits patiently for him to finish his scattered thoughts, head tilted to the side and expression soft. It isn’t like him to interrupt. And even though it’s really nice to finally kiss his crush, something doesn’t feel right.

And then the Mothman crashes through Duck’s living room window.

posted in full below the break but you can find me on A03!

There’s a knock on his door.

Duck nearly trips over Lucy on his way to answer it. She makes a grumbly little meow, and he grumbles right back at her as he regains his balance. “Dammit, Luce.” She scurries to the bedroom when he unlatches the door.

Standing on his front step is Indrid Cold. He’s wearing his regular outfit of jeans and a tank top, and he’s shivering a little in the spring air. “Hello, Duck Newton,” he says with an unnerving smile.

Duck grins back. “Indrid! God, it’s good to see you. I was- Hell, I was worried about you.”

Indrid adjusts his glasses and rubs his arm, flustered. Duck looks up at him and tries not to think about how cute he is. They don’t have time for that. “Come in.”

When Duck turns around, Indrid has closed the door and moved close into Duck’s space. “Oh, um, listen, Indrid,” Duck says, trying to stop the blush in his cheeks at the proximity. “I’m real sorry for, y’know, punchin’ you in the face…”

“All is forgiven, Duck,” Indrid replies with a smile. “You saved my life.”

Duck tries to keep his eyes forward, staring at Indrid’s chin, because whenever he looks up at the other man all he can think about is kissing him.  They had spent a significant amount of time together during the last hunt and, although the Silf is a little strange, Duck knows flirting when he sees it. He hasn’t been on the receiving end of someone’s interest like this often, and it was a bit of a thrill to flirt back and let the Winnebago settle with a warm, mutual attraction. But they don’t have time for that right now.

“Listen, man, a lot has happened since you flew away. We got an abomination on the loose that’s real smart and real scary; it can –”

Indrid interrupts him. “I know.”

“Right. ‘Course, you do.” Duck chances a glance up at the other man and sees his own flustered, red reflection staring back at him. “It’s a little fucked up, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how we’re gonna –”

“Duck.” The ranger jumps when Indrid places a cold hand on the back of his neck. “I missed you.”

“Well, yeah, I- uh,” Duck stutters, “I missed…missed you, too.” The taller man smiles. “But Indrid, we need to –”

And then Indrid kisses him.

Duck kisses back without thinking. It’s been a while since he’s had any romantic contact, but he’s been daydreaming about this for quite a few months and insecurity doesn’t have the chance to take purchase. He places his hands on Indrid’s narrow hips and the other man hums before burying his hands in Duck’s hair. Indrid kisses him like he’s trying to consume him. Duck stumbles back a little at the ferocity and breaks for a breath.

“Woah. Yeah, alright. Right. I mean, this is… I been wantin’ this for a while.”

Indrid grins. “I know.”

“Yeah,” Duck laughs, “I just… We gotta put a pause on this, man. That abomination’s out there and I need to get back to –” He’s cut off by Indrid’s mouth on his again. This time he feels a flutter of unease in his chest. Indrid is acting strange.

Most people interrupt Duck during his disfluencies, trying to finish his sentence for him or change the subject. But ever since Duck told him about his discomfort with that, Indrid waits patiently for him to finish his scattered thoughts, head tilted to the side and expression soft. It isn’t like him to interrupt. And even though it’s really nice to finally kiss his crush, something doesn’t feel right.

And then the Mothman crashes through Duck’s living room window.

The three of them stare at each other for a stunned moment. Duck’s brain rushes to make sense of the situation – the paradoxical presence of the man whose hips he’s holding and the hulking, unsettling monster standing on shattered glass in the carpet. “What the fuck?”

Duck takes a step back out of Indrid’s embrace. The uncertainty in his chest becomes drenched in horror as he understands. But he doesn’t have the time to react. Everyone moves at once.

Indrid’s left hand morphs and turns into a sharp, flesh-coloured blade. The Mothman charges forward, knocking some model ships off of nearby shelves with his wings. Duck twists and falls back onto his couch in an attempt to escape.

Duck feels a burning pain in his side and his back hits the cushions. The Mothman crashes into Indrid and they both fall onto the coffee table. It breaks under their weight. Duck scrambles to grab Beacon at his belt, but the movement makes his side flare up and he lets out a shout. The Mothman’s huge red eyes meet his, but this gives the creature underneath it an opportunity. The abomination, its skin shifting as it struggles to maintain Indrid’s form, pushes up into the Mothman’s furry chest with ferocity. The Mothman lands on its wings with a grunt.

Even with its bestial facial features, Duck can tell the Mothman is surprised at the abomination’s strength and speed. The abomination is escaping out the broken window before Duck can draw his sword and before the Mothman can right itself.

They’re frozen for a moment, trapped in the sudden silence. Duck reaches across his body and places his hand on his right side. There’s warm blood soaking into his shirt and the fabric of his couch. “Fuck.” He grimaces. He breathes through the pain before looking back at the looming, dark creature shaking out its wings. “Indrid?”

The Mothman nods vigorously. “Yes!” It reaches a clawed hand into a pouch hanging off of a belt at its waist and retrieves a pair of large, red sunglasses. It quickly puts them on and the huge form of the Mothman turns into Indrid Cold. He’s wearing faded jeans, a bulky sweater, and an expression of guilty concern. “I’m so sorry, Duck. I flew as fast as I could.” He rushes forward and his hands flutter from Duck’s cheek to his shoulder and then a few inches over the wound on his ribs.

“Your hair’s longer,” Duck says.

Indrid’s hands stop moving and he just looks at him for a moment. “Yeah.”

Duck swallows, mouth dry. “Looks nice.”

“Thanks, Duck. Listen, you’re bleeding all over your fucking couch. Where’s the first aid kit?”

“Shouldn’t you know that?” Duck teases.

Indrid shakes his head in frustration, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He gently moves a strand of Duck’s hair behind his ear. “You know it doesn’t work like that.” He stands up and rushes to the ensuite bathroom. Duck smiles when he hears him say hello to Lucy before rifling through the cupboard.

“Then how come you found it without me telling you?” He calls out.

“I don’t have time for your shit, Duck Newton. I looked into the possible futures where you weren’t being difficult and just told me where it was!” This is, without a doubt, the real Indrid Cold. Talking to him feels natural, like it did months ago, not the strange, charged conversation with the imposter a few minutes ago. Even though he’s in a lot of pain and he’s going to have to replace his couch and his window, Duck feels calm and happy. And he might be going into shock…just a little bit.

Indrid returns with the first aid kit in his hands and a towel under his arm. “This isn’t really my area of expertise, so you’re going to have to assist me a little,” he admits. He nudges some pieces of wood away with his foot before kneeling on the carpet in between Duck’s knees. He places the items down on the couch and gestures. “Take your shirt off, please.”

Duck can’t help but blush at the sight of Indrid on his knees in front of him. He reaches for the hem of his shirt and raises it a bit before the pain of the movement stops him. He lets out a strangled cry at the same time that Indrid’s cold hands grasp his wrists. “Sorry! Sorry, Duck. I should be paying more attention. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. Here.” Indrid begins to lift the hem before he stops, eyebrows furrowed. Instead, he reaches for the first aid kit.

Duck gives him a questioning look when he lifts a pair of fabric scissors. “Really?”

Indrid shrugs. “It’s going to hurt you to lift your arms.” He pauses, watching Duck’s face carefully. “Is this okay, Duck? Tell me how I can make you more comfortable.” Duck feels a warmth in his chest. This is the considerate Indrid he knows.

“Yeah, ‘s’fine, go ahead.” Duck feels his face heat even more, this time from embarrassment, as Indrid carefully cuts through his T-shirt and pulls the fabric away from his body. Indrid, usually perpetually distracted, is intensely focused on the task. Duck can’t stop thinking about how his position – slumped on the couch cushions – doesn’t do his body any favours. He knows that Indrid is focused on the bleeding wound on his side, not his stomach curling over his belt, but it doesn’t stop Duck from closing his eyes.

“Duck?” Indrid is looking at his face now. “What do I do now?”

“Right.” Duck takes a breath and harshly reminds himself that he’s forty-two, not fourteen. Still, he grits his teeth and attempts to straighten his posture. He gets a good look at the wound for the first time. It’s bleeding a lot but it’s not too deep. The abomination had obviously intended to stab him in the stomach, but Duck had twisted away, causing the weapon to slice a horizontal line through the skin over his ribs. “God, that was a close call, wasn’t it?”

Indrid doesn’t respond. Duck places the folded hand towel over the wound and presses down. When he turns back to his companion, Indrid is staring at the center of his chest. His lips are pressed into a thin line and he’s breathing hard. “Indrid?”

“It was a close call, Duck Newton.” He harshly wipes his eyes under the glasses. “There were so many futures where I wasn’t fast enough, and I watched it impale you. There were so many futures where I didn’t come at all and it killed you in other, horrible ways. And it killed you wearing my face, Duck –”

Duck leans forward, even though it hurts, and places his free hand on Indrid’s shoulder. “Hey, woah, slow down, man. You made it. I’m alright.”

Suddenly, Indrid looks furious. “And it kissed you.”

For a second, Duck feels a surge of shame, but he pushes it away. The abomination obviously has access to memories that give it accuracy in appearance and behaviour. He couldn’t have known. “I’m, uh…yeah. That musta been weird for you to see.”

“Yeah, it was weird, Duck.” Indrid’s hands tighten on Duck’s knees, seemingly without intention. “It was weird because I’ve wanted to kiss you for months. I think you’re the bravest, kindest, most handsome man I’ve ever met. And you kissed him back. You kissed him back because you also want to kiss me. And I’m so fucking mad that it took that from you – that it took that from me!”

Duck is stunned into silence. Indrid has always been a very honest man, but Duck wasn’t prepared for such an emotional confession and confirmation. He finds his voice. “I still want you to kiss me.”

“What?”

“It didn’t take anything, Indrid. I want you to kiss me. For real. The real you. I still want that.”

Indrid leans forward, bracketed by Duck’s legs. He places both hands on Duck’s stubbled cheeks. “Are you sure?”

Duck nods. “Yeah.”

Indrid kisses him with tenderness and care, almost reverence. If Duck had been standing, his knees would be weak. Indrid’s lips are slightly chapped. His thumb slowly caresses Duck’s cheekbone. The abomination had known a lot about Indrid Cold, but it got so many things wrong. It had kissed Duck like it wanted to consume him. Indrid kisses Duck like he’s giving himself over. He kisses Duck like he’s precious, like he wants to keep him safe.

Duck wants to pull him closer, hold onto his back, but in that moment he becomes aware of his own hand pressing a towel to the wound on his abdomen. Regretfully, and very slowly, he pulls away. “Let’s bandage me up and then we can keep doin’ this, alright?”

Indrid shakes himself. “Yes, of course. You’re hurt. What am I doing?”

“What I asked you to.” Duck replies, somehow both stern and coy. He’s satisfied when Indrid’s expression softens.

They patch him up well enough to stop the bleeding. Indrid retrieves a button-up shirt from the closet so that he doesn’t have to raise his arms. Duck catches him staring, eyes lingering appreciatively on his chest and stomach before they’re covered up by closed buttons. Duck blushes again, pleased.

This abomination is terrifying. It’s lodged itself in the heart of Kepler and Duck isn’t sure how they’re going to get it out without disturbing the peace. It feels like it’s a catalyst for something bigger, something they’re not ready for.

But Indrid’s back. And Indrid kissed him. And sometimes it’s alright to focus on a good thing for a moment.

[step-on-me-khun]

hello^^ request are open so is it possible to request breeding kink with khun a.a x reader? Its fine if youre not writing it!!

I’m all fine with writing it don’t worry

Warning: NSFW

He would often leave you tired, always exhausted by how he would make you feel. It's not something you could really complain about, he was just good at what he did, which was making you feel amazing.

You were awake, his cold fingers traced your sides, giving you goosebumps. A smug smile lined his face, you knew what he wanted, it was obvious by the way he looked at you. Those blue eyes, the cold colour of them, they had so much lust in them.

You swallowed hard, turning to lie on your back, his body above your own. He was only in his tracksuit bottoms. Your fingers left soft scratches on his chest, a hiss escaped his mouth.

He chuckles at you, your hands heading lower and lower, your eyes fixed on his.

He lowers his face towards yours, but not so much that he could kiss you. He smiles at you smugly again, your hands at the waistband of his tracksuit bottoms.

"You're not desperate, are you?" You ask.

"Maybe I am," he whispers.

His left hand moves up your stomach, towards your breast, groping it. You let out a soft hum, enjoying what his hand was doing to you. His hand let go of your mound, heading up to the top of your t-shirt, pulling it off over your head, exposing your top half to him. Not like he wasn't used to it, he always saw you as an angel.

The way you would look at him sometimes, when you were there lying on the bed, waiting for him to do something to you.

His hand grabs at his pillow, pulling it behind him, keeping your pillow where it was: under your head.

"What are you thinking, Aguero?" You ask innocently.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he says, planting a passionate kiss on your lips, "I'm thinking that I want to just fuck you over and over again,"

"Dammit," you moan out as he attacks your neck, his hands working on his bottoms, shuffling them down his legs then kicking them off the bed, "you want to risk me getting pregnant again?"

He chuckles, "Now you get the idea,"

His hands take a hold of your waist, flipping you over onto your stomach.

You glance behind you, watching him as he pulled your back end up, placing the pillow under you before pushing you back down. A soft smack was placed on your ass.

You giggle, your head still on your pillow. His hands hurriedly took off the remainder of his clothes, which were just his boxers. His fingers loop around the fabric of your panties, pulling them down at a painfully slow speed.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, becoming impatient.

His body moves away from yours, removing your panties and his boxers, then moves back above you. You could feel his length against your ass, his hands traveled under your stomach, cups one of your breasts, and pinches your nipples. You arch your back, pushing your ass onto him more.

He lets out a hiss, then chuckles as he lines himself up with your hole. That was when you felt him enter you, his hands at yours ass, fingers gripping your skin tightly, keeping you in place as he roughly thrust into you.

Your moans were being suppressed by the pillow below you. All Khun could hear from you were muffled noises, but they were enough to keep him going.

You really were a sight to him, your pretty body below him, powerless to stop him from his actions. You gripped the pillow below you like it was the last thing keeping you grounded.

"Ahh, fuck," you moan out, one hand letting go of the pillow, turning your face to the side to get a glance of him.

His hands let go of your ass, one at your side, the other brushing hair away from your face.

"Am I making you feel good, beautiful?" He whispers in your ear.

You couldn't help but let out a loud moan. That voice, how low and husky it was, you could melt from him.

"Oh, God, yes," you moan.

His teeth grazed your ear, he let out a long breath, the feeling of it tickled your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

He then bit down on your ear, picking up speed as did so, making you more vocal.

His hand found yours, pinning down to the bed.

The sounds of your moans, of skin slapping against each other, it made him even more aroused.

"Oh, God, Khun, I-" you cry out.

He realizes what you were about to say, speeding up and getting rougher with you.

His hand gripped yours tightly as your walls tightened around him, hissing at the feeling your gave him.

"Fuck," he groans quietly as you come on him, slowing down a little as he came soon after.

Your breathing was heavy. He was such an asshole, one who would always leave you satisfied at times, but also was good a teasing you like you had never been teased before, and that was once side of him you didn't really want.

"Don't think this is over," he whispers into your ear, "I'm only just getting started,"

With that he moved inside you again, his dick rubbing on your walls. It was a lot more rough, a lot faster too. His hand left yours, both of them on your back, keeping you still.

"Mmm," you moan, your face still facing the side, catching a glimpse of him every now and again.

You would often catch a glimpse of his eyes, those blue eyes of his, looking down on your back, watching as his fingers gripped your skin. You were never too much for him, and it was the same for you, at times.

He was ruthless with you, never losing his speed, continuing his rough actions on you.

"Ah, ahh, mmm," you moan out, "dammit,"

After feeling your walls clamp around him, you came again, your hands clinging to the pillow and bed.

His end came a little while after, "Fuck, you feel so damn good," he groans, his liquid painting your insides.

"Please, tell me you're done," you cry.

You hear him chuckle. He gets up, removing his length from inside you. You were turned over again, your back still on the pillow.

His hands move the pillow from under your head, eyes watched as your hair fell spreading around your head.

"You're staring at me," you comment.

"Shut up," he says, kissing your forehead, "you're so fucking beautiful, I just can't help myself,"

You could tell part of what he was saying was just sarcasm, but it did make you feel a little confused and hurt by it.

"I'm being serious," he smiles, lining himself up with you again. The pillow under your ass giving him a different angle to thrust into you.

"Ahh, fuck," you cry, the position made him reach further inside you, "how many rounds do you intend to go?"

"I want to see all that cum dripping from you, so I'll go for as long as I want," he teases. Damn, that would be sight for him: watching as both of your cum dripped from your core. You might not like the thought of it, but he certainly did.

He liked taking risks on you, especially when he made you like this.

Your hands grip his arms as he hovered over you. His eyes watched as your face contorted with every move he made, how you bit your lip, looked down at your connecting body parts, the cute looks you would give him, it was all enough to make him want to pound into you through the night. But he didn't have that kind of stamina.

"Do you like me filling you up like this, (Y/N)?" He asks.

"Mmm, yes, Aguero, I do, please keep going," you cry

He chuckles at your response, his mouth taking a hold of yours as he sped up, which was just what you asked him to do.

"You're so good to me," you moan into his mouth, your tongues exploring each others mouths.

Your hands let go of his arms, your arms wrapping around Khun's head, pulling him further down, deepening the kiss.

He grins, chuckling into the kiss. You were becoming more and more desperate for release again, the familiar feeling building up in your stomach.

You moan loudly into his mouth, "Aguero,"

"I know," he groans, a hand cups your face.

His lips let go of yours, eyes staring into each other as you came, your fingers grabbing onto his hair.

His speed stayed the same, his pace still as rough as ever as he came inside you.

He hisses as he pulls himself out of you, watching to see cum drip from you.

You saw some of your own liquid on him, making you a little embarrassed. You turn away.

Again, he chuckles at you. "You're pretty cute when you're embarrassed," he says, a finger running up and down your slit, making the cum mixe inside you drip more.

The pillow was removed from under you.

"Damn," you complain, "how many times are you going to do this too me?"

"As much as I want to, I love you," He smiles, then kisses your nose.

"I love you too, fucking asshole,"

"Don't give me ideas,"

"I'm not,"

His eyes gaze down at your groin again, still watching as your liquids dripped from you.

Your hands pull him down beside you, his arms wrapping around you as you lay there. This was nice, just this, how you were: arms around each other, holding him closely. His fingers comb your hair as your eyes closed.

[delaber]

Just Friends (Part 8)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 4.6K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol)

Chapter Note: this chapter is dedicated to exrthangel because she’s honestly the sweetest thing ever and she’s studying so hard rn ❤️

Tag List: lonelydance mysearchforgratification ramp-it-up blndspotting summerofsnowflakes exrthangel honeysucklechocolatedrippin

Other Parts: See Masterlist

You had read the message over and over again ever since you had received it a couple of days ago: I have a surprise for Friday. Will pick you up at 6. Wear dark clothes.

What the hell did he have up his sleeve? Why the dark clothes? You were utterly confused as you on Friday afternoon pulled on a pair of black jeans, a black top, and your leather jacket.

At 5.55 pm, you were tying the shoelaces on a pair of combat boots when you heard Samantha exclaim from her seat in the window sill, "are you kidding me?!"

"Oh no," you groaned, "what is it?"

Samantha was looking out the window with her mouth hanging open when she suddenly started to laugh, "he has a bloody motorbike," she said in disbelief, "Where'd you find this boy? He's textbook American!"

You rushed to Samantha's side and saw Rafa on a motorbike, wearing an outfit that was roughly matching yours. He pulled off his helmet and flipped his hair before he started walking towards the front door.

"Oh, and he's cute up close too!" Samantha said as she studied him swagger up to your house.

You hurried towards the front door, calling out to Samantha, "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Oh no! You do not get off that easily!" Samantha ran from the window sill and held you back at the door, "I am going to meet this guy who's all you've been able to talk about since New Years!"

You heard a low chuckle coming from the other side of the door, "aw, you tell your friends about that guy?" Rafa spoke from the other side of the closed front door, his voice sounding as if it was about to burst with happiness.

"Not when he butts in on private conversations going on behind closed doors," you mocked him.

You could hear him chuckle slightly before Samantha in one swift motion turned the doorknob and opened the door to a smiling Rafa.

"Ladies," he nodded to both of you, sending you a wink. You had to give it to Samantha; he did look particularly good up close.

"Rafa, this is my roomie Samantha," you cleared your throat, "Samantha this is... the guy I've been talking about apparently."

Samantha extended her hand, "Nice to finally meet you. I'm Samantha."

Rafa took her hand, "likewise. I'm Rafael."

"Your real name is Rafael?" it slipped out of you and Samantha sent you a weird look.

"Yeah, what'd you think Rafa was short for?" he laughed, his crooked tooth somehow more fetching than usual.

"I honestly haven't given it much thought," you laughed and he sent you a sappy smile looking at you very softly for a couple of seconds.

Samantha noticed the sexual tension and decided to break it, "well you two have fun, yeah? I won't wait up so don't bother having her home on this side of midnight. The magic won't wear off, I swear," Samantha winked before she let you and Rafa go.

"See you later, Samantha," Rafa chuckled as he stepped down from the porch.

'Stop that!' you mouthed to your grinning roomie before you followed Rafa.

You heard the front door close shut behind you, and first then did Rafa whip around, "are you ready for the best friend-date you've ever been on?" he said theatrically.

"You bet!" you matched his level of excitement, "although I'm a bit nervous as to what we'll be doing with that," you gestured to his motorbike, while dreading his answer.

"We're going for a ride," he said dramatically and threw you one of two helmets that had been lying on the seat.

"You're not serious... I'm not going on the back of that!"

"Do you not trust me?" He smirked as he climbed the bike.

"Of course, but..."

"Then get up. I'll go slow, okay?"

"Are you sure?"

"You're gonna love it!"

"O-okay," you said and swung your leg over the seat, tightening your helmet significantly.

"Just hold on tight, okay?"

"Hold on tight to what? There are no handlebars back here," you said in a panicky voice.

"Hold on to me of course," Rafa laughed.

Your arms snaked nervously around his waist, and he put a reassuring hand on top of yours for just a second before he took a deep breath and retracted it again. You couldn't help but wonder if this was the exact reason why he had wanted you on the back of his bike in the first place.

He turned the engine and slowly drove away from your townhouse while you whimpered in the backseat. He started off by slowly going through your neighbourhood checking on you regularly while you felt more and more comfortable on the bike. Every time he felt your arms loosen their grip around him, he sped up slightly, causing you to tighten your grab around his waist significantly. You were quickly comfortable with his full control over the bike, however, and actually had to admit that you were enjoying the fast-paced way of getting around the city.

"We can go faster than this," you bellowed over the sound of the motor a couple of minutes in.

Rafa didn't need telling twice and quickly sped up the bike while you squealed in the backseat, holding on tight to him again. You rode all the way down Sunset Boulevard until you reached the coast close to the Santa Monica Pier. The bike came to a halt right before the beach.

"That was amazing," you laughed completely high from the ride.

He smiled proudly to himself as he turned off the bike, "What did I tell you? I knew you'd love it!"

"I did," you said excitedly, "thanks for making me do it!”

He looked at you tenderly for a few seconds before he came to his senses, "come. We're going over here," he said and put a hand on your leather-clad back leading you to a sketchy looking hotdog stand, where he placed an order for two of the most popular kind.

"Really?" you asked him with raised eyebrows as he handed you one of the hot dogs.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it," he laughed as you sat down on a bench overlooking the dark beach, the sky a beautiful lilac colour as you had just missed the sunset, "I was hoping it might lead to the story behind your tattoo," he sent you a crooked smile.

"God you're the worst," you laughed at him, "Alright then - but I'll only tell you because that was a really smooth move. And I'm having a bite of the hotdog first."

"Let me know what you think," he looked at you excitedly.

"They're that good?" you laughed as you took in his excitement.

"Oh you're about to taste a tiny bit of heaven," Rafa smiled, "Diggs is quite the hotdog connoisseur and he recommended the place to me way back in the day. They have bratwursts shipped in from Germany."

"You have expertise in both chillies and German sausages? You're a man of the world, aren't you?" you teased him.

"Shut up and eat your hot dog," he grinned.

You took a large bite of the sausage which was definitely one of the best you'd ever had, "oh bloody hell! This is good," you practically moaned while rolling your eyes backwards in an attempt to show Rafa exactly how much you liked his choice of dinner.

"Hey, you cannot do that," he looked panicky as he desperately elbowed you in the ribs to get you to stop, "you're giving me the chubs," he shot you an awkward laugh.

"That's all it takes?" you laughed at him.

"Hey, I'm a simple man: I see a beautiful girl putting penis-shaped foods into her mouth all the while she's moaning and her eyes are rolling to the back of her head - and the rest is physiology," he smirked and bit into his own hot dog.

"I'm beginning to suspect that's the real reason why you took me here," you laughed at him.

"Hey, don't make me out to be some creep, okay?" He laughed, "I'm your innocent friend Rafa who just loves hot dogs and beautiful women - especially the two combined. Now tell me the story behind that tattoo dammit!”

"If you must know," you groaned, "I got it at Glastonbury when I had just turned eighteen. It was part of a bet."

"Really?" He looked amused, "What did you get out of it?"

"My friends paid for the tattoo and paid me a hundred quid for it - which was a fairly good amount of money back then," you laughed.

"That's what? 130 dollars or something? I sure hope you bought yourself a car with that kind of money," Rafa joked.

"I spent all of it on booze that night alone," you laughed.

"I probably would've done the same thing to be honest," he chuckled.

"So we're both smart people!"

"PhD-smart," he tapped his temple while winking at you, "speaking of; how's your project coming?"

"Good," you nodded, "although, I'm a bit behind schedule with the project I'm working on over here. The next couple of weeks are without a doubt going to be quite busy," you sighed, "I'm not going to have much free-time."

He grunted in response, probably aware of what that meant in regards to your already limited time together.

"I constantly need to remind myself why I'm here and why I'm even doing the project," you eyed him. You wanted to tell him that he had made it hard for you to concentrate on anything apart from him but ended up deciding against it.

"Yeah? What made you decide to do the project in the first place?"

"Because it's the coolest thing ever," you bumped your knee into his.

"Yeah?" He grinned at the contact, "what's your thesis about? Explain it to me as if I'm five because I don't know science for shit."

You laughed at him and told him all about what your PhD was about, explaining it as simple as you possibly could.

"Sounds complicated," he blew out some air when you were done.

"Nah. It's just like learning a new language," you shrugged, "you get the hang of it."

"How are you so nonchalant about almost finishing a PhD?" he laughed, "it's fucking difficult and you've worked hard for it. Don't play it down. Tell me how hard it is to come this far and how amazing you are at it!"

"It's hard and I'm amazing?" you said half-heartedly with a laugh.

"Oh come on. Do it with a bit more gusto. Don't go all British on me."

"Uhm... it's hard and I'm amazing," you said a bit more resolutely this time.

"Damn straight!" he said loudly, "a project like yours does not come easy to anybody. Don't take away your own victory."

"Alright, alright, I guess I did work quite hard. But I'm very privileged to even have the chance to do it."

"Yep, that's fine and whatever," he rolled his eyes at you "- Now tell me how you really feel about it."

You eyed him for a couple of seconds. Was he really able to see right through you so easily? "Okay," you sighed, "at first all the lab work was fun but now it's kind of draining and I cannot wait until I'm done so I can start something new!" you laughed, "also, right now I hate the project because it takes away my very limited time with you."

He looked at you and tried to hide a proud smile. "Look at you being all honest," he nudged you softly in the ribs and winked at you before he responded to what you'd said, "when are you handing in your thesis?"

"If all goes well, it'll be done before summer."

"And then what?" he nodded slowly.

"Ah yes! The million dollar question," you laughed, "I don't know. Maybe a post.doc?"

"You're gonna spend your whole life in academia?" he looked at you intently, "how much money do you have?"

"You get paid a fair salary when you're doing a PhD - and tuition is free in most of Europe so you can just go to another country and study if you don't have the money for it."

"WHAT?" he bellowed, "Tuition... is... free? You’re kidding! What kind of a hippie continent is that and when can I move there?"

You laughed at him, "European welfare, boom!" You said while dropping the hotdog wrapper into the trashcan next to the bench, "Europe 1 - America 0."

"You bet," he mumbled, "Ah, I probably wouldn't have lasted a day anyway. I got kicked out of high school, you know."

"You did? What'd you do?"

"That's a story for some other day," he smiled at you, "come, I have another surprise for you."

He helped you up from the bench and snaked his hand around your waist as you walked over to the bike in silence. You wanted to tell him that what he was doing felt close to violating your code of conduct but just like the other night, his hand around you made you feel safe and warm, so you let him keep it there.

You rode back up Sunset Boulevard telling yourself repeatedly that safety was the only reason for your tightly wrapped arms around his waist.

A couple of minutes later, Rafa parked the bike outside a brick building with a big sign reading 'THE ECHOPLEX presents CLIPPING.'

You could hear the music boom from inside. "Is this a concert venue?" you asked him.

"Yep," he said, "you and I have tickets for the hottest shit in L.A."

"Oh, don't tell me you're going to try and convert me into a rap-lover?" you laughed, "I haven't even listened that much to your playlist."

"I'm not going to covert you," Rafa smirked, "Diggs is."

"Oh, we're meeting up with Daveed?" you said not really sure if you were excited about seeing him or disappointed that you'd have to share Rafa with him.

"...Kind of," Rafa said mysteriously.

"I'm intrigued," you said as you handed him your helmet.

He put it on the bike and took your hand, "Come on, we're late. The show's already started."

He showed the bouncer two laminated tickets and handed you one of them afterwards, "put this around your neck."

"Backstage pass?" you arched an eyebrow as you read the inscription, "really?"

"I came to impress," he laughed, "you want something to drink?"

"A beer would be lovely," you nodded, looking at the stage where a man was rapping rapidly to weird noises and sounds. You weren't really sure that this was anything for you.

Rafa came back a short while later and handed you a local beer. "I brought you an IPA," he laughed, "I figured you'd appreciate my average white-male taste."

"I like IPAs too," you laughed, "this music on the other hand is..." your voice trailed off.

"What, you don't like it?"

"No, Rafa," you laughed and pointed towards the stage, "what the hell is this shit because it surely isn't music! Don't tell me that you actually find this good."

"You did not just say that!" he looked at you with an amused face.

"What?"

"Have you even seen who's performing?" he laughed whole-heartedly and pointed towards the stage.

The guy rapping shirtless at the front was spitting bars and hyping people up, and first then did you realise that you knew him, "Hold up! Is that Daveed?"

Rafa laughed at you, his hand coming to a rest on the small of your back as he leaned in and whispered in a teasing voice, "I'm going to tell him that you think his music's shit."

"You wouldn't dare," you leaned threateningly close and squinted your eyes at him.

"Oh, but I would - so you better behave," he said devilishly, his gaze wandering between your lips and your eyes, clearly thinking about kissing you. When you noticed, it once again took everything in you to pull back and turn towards the stage instead. Out the corner of your eye, you saw Rafa take a deep breath before turning to the stage as well with a somewhat pained expression in his eyes. He slowly found the rhythm of the music, head bopping in time with the beat while he started quietly rapping along.

-

"I can't believe he's a rapper," you laughed when the concert was over and you were heading towards the backstage area, "normally he looks so... innocent - but up there he's so... raw!" You laughed and felt the many beers that you and Rafa had shared.

"Easy girl," Rafa laughed, "don't go change me out for Diggs.”

You sent him a look that he most certainly was familiar with by now.

"I know," he chuckled, "just friends. That's what I meant," he lied, "come on, they're in here," he pushed open the door to the band's private room.

"Alright, guys!" Rafa yelled in best hype-man style as he waltzed across the room to the mini fridge in the back, walking as if the owned the room, "well done. Great show! Even my homegirl here agrees."

You waved to the three guys, "very nice show. Love the energy."

"Glad you enjoyed it," Daveed nodded, "Rafa mentioned that you don't really get rap music - did we manage to change your mind?"

"I think the show was really great," you said slowly trying to figure out a way to not hurt his feelings.

"It's not for everyone. I get it, no worries," he laughed, "Just don't tell Rafa; it would just break his heart."

"Hey - quick question," you whispered, "what do you think would rile Rafa up the most: criticising rap music in general or criticising his beloved chili sauces?"

It made Daveed chuckle, "hot sauce! For sure. Did you not hear his lecture the other day? He takes that shit very seriously and just goes on and on and on to anybody that'll listen."

"Who are you guys talking about?" Rafa emerged at your side, casually draping his arm across your shoulder as he handed you and Daveed a beer each.

"No one," you and Daveed said in unison.

"Are you plotting against me?" Rafa chuckled, "should I be concerned?"

"No," you both said at the same time looking excitedly at each other.

"Right..." Rafa pulled you just a little closer to him, clearly wanting to show his friend that he needed to know his place - subconsciously or not, you did not know.

"So... what do you guys usually do after concerts?" you asked, hoping to break the tension you felt in Rafa who was now pressed completely up against your side.

"We get high," Daveed laughed, "I was just about to ask..."

"Don't worry, I didn't take you here to get high," Rafa interrupted his best friend and sent you a smile.

"It's okay! If it's what you usually do, I don't mind."

"Are you sure?" Rafa shot you a look, "it feels like kind of a dick move on my part to meet up with a bunch of my friends and get high when we're on a date."

"I thought you were just friends," Daveed mumbled without looking up from the cone he was folding.

"He gets it," you smiled and sat down on the sofa next to Daveed.  

"Okay, sure," Rafa nodded and sat down next to you with a small laugh, "I guess I could get high too if you're definitely up for it."

"I am," you sent him a grin.

"Alright, let's do this," Rafa said and draped his arm around your shoulders.

"Oh god, I haven't done this since I was twenty," you were slightly nervous as you eyed the blunt that Daveed was now lighting up.

"So last year?" Rafa teased.

"Easy grandpa, I'm 29."

"Ah yes, so young and innocent. So easy to manipulate!" he sighed, "I remember when I was your age."

"And you're what? Four years older than me?" You arched an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, but the years between 29 and 33 are really what define you as a person," he smiled and put his arm back around your shoulder.

Daveed took a puff of the joint before handing it to you, "Here you go," he said, "It's strong so you probably don't need that much."

You inhaled slightly, resisting the urge to cough before you quickly exhaled a mouthful of smoke already feeling its effects, "oh damn," you said as you already felt yourself growing relaxed and careless. You quickly took your second puff before passing it along to Rafa who was clearly more experienced than you were. He puffed it twice as well before he passed it on to Daveed's band mate Will. You held out your fingers, ready for hit number three.

Rafa raised an eyebrow at you, "are you sure?"

"Yep," you said, your speech a little slurred but you were sure you could take it.

The third hit of the joint hit you like a truck, "oh fuck," you exhaled as you felt a wave of warmth wash over you.

"You okay?" Rafa laughed at you as he took hit number four himself. His eyes were bloodshot but apart from that, he kept it together.

"Yep," you said as you slumped on the sofa.

"You look like a slug," Rafa mimicked you, arms hanging to the side, his chin pressed tightly against his sternum.

"But a cute slug," you pouted.

"The cutest," he snickered, his hands brushing slightly against your knuckles before his fingers entangled themselves in yours.

"Mmmh," you hummed at his touch, all thoughts of what you should or shouldn't do, gone. You couldn't remember if you'd ever been this carefree and relaxed before. Especially when his thumb was caressing your hand as he sent you a cute smile.

Looking into Rafa's bloodshot eyes, you reminded yourself that you needed to keep your cool. You were both drunk and high. You shouldn't be doing this no matter how much you wanted it. So you retracted your fingers from his and sat up straight on the sofa. "I need a beer," you mumbled and walked over to the fridge in the far corner.

"Yeah, bring me one too," Daveed called, "- maybe an entire round. My main man Will is looking a little thirsty over here," he nodded towards his band member who was clearly experiencing cotton mouth.

You looked back at the men in the sofa and counted each of them; thus you picked up four beers and slowly walked back to them. Rafa was staring at you through heavy-hooded eyelids with a smug expression on his face. He was looking very very fuckable as he slid down further on the sofa, spreading his legs slightly as you neared him. You really just wanted to say fuck it all and jump him - but no, you weren't going to go down that road. You had made a promise to each other. A promise you intended to keep no matter how high you were.

You sat down a beer in front of each of the men before realising that you had forgotten one for yourself. Giggling slightly at your own high, you returned to the fridge where you bent over and picked up yet another beer.

"Are you on a mission to torture me?" Rafa's hush voice sounded from behind you, "because bending over like that twice in a span of thirty seconds is just plain mean..."

"What?" You turned around, now face to face with him.

He stepped closer, "I'm sure you're aware of the effect that you have on me. Especially when you bend over like that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you said innocently, an involuntary smile spreading slowly on your lips as you took in his pained expression.

"Fuck!" he hissed, "That - that - is exactly what I'm talking about," he stepped as close to you as he possibly could without touching you, "half the time you look so innocent and doe-eyed and then suddenly - boom - your innocence is replaced by these... mewling sex-kitten looks and fuck it's hard to keep my hands to myself when we both know what we want - Regardless of your code," he ended up sighing.

He still wasn't touching you but the way he was moving his face told you that he was fighting hard to not kiss you. And to be honest, you were fighting too.

"It's not on purpose," you said, looking up at him, "I'm not so evil that I'd dangle bait in front of you on purpose and then get angry when you bite into it."

"I don't care that you're not doing it on purpose," he grinned and licked his lips, "you're still doing it. And I really want to fuck you right now."

"Too bad you can't," you said.

"You're really strong-willed, aren't you?"

"You don't move half-across the globe for a project you've lost interest in if you're not strong-willed."

He leaned in closer, lips hovering above yours but never touching, "fuck, it's so hard not to touch you..." he groaned, "I hate being friends with you."

"I hate being friends with you," you said softly, almost giving in and closing the distance.

Your moment of weakness, however, was interrupted by Daveed who gave out a loud whistle to get your attention. "Rafa!" he bellowed, "Party's moving downtown."

Rafa grunted in response, turning his attention back to you, "do you want to go?"

"Not really," you said, gulping up at him.

"Me neither..." Rafa responded and fidgeted with the hem of your t-shirt, "do you want to come back to mine?"

"That sounds dangerous," you smiled and avoided his gaze, instead fixating on the thin golden necklace he was wearing.

"I won't try anything," he grumbled above you, "I promise - okay? We could just... watch the rest of the movie from the other night."

You looked up at him, his eyes bloodshot but soft as he watched you contemplate your answer. "Okay," you ended up whispering, already knowing that you were now doomed. You just couldn't help yourself with him. Especially not when high and with alcohol coursing through your veins.

Rafa sent you a smirk, "good girl," he whispered darkly, sending shivers down your spine. "Diggs, we're not coming."

"Right," Daveed nodded, "see you guys later. Have fun," he shot you a smirk.

Rafa quickly ordered an Uber while you pulled on your leather jacket and started walking towards the exit. Rafa was walking behind you, his gaze almost burning a hole in your jeans as you swung your hips a bit more vigorously than you normally would've done. Not to get his attention, you told yourself.

When you arrived outside, the car was already waiting for you. You both got in the backseat, and intentionally left the middle seat empty between you. No need to tempt the devil.

You hadn't driven for more than a couple of seconds, however, before you noticed that Rafa was already having a hard time sticking to his promise of not trying anything with you, "I didn't even get a chance to tell you how amazing you look tonight," he put his neck on the headrest and looked over at you.

"Thanks," you smiled at him, "you look very handsome yourself."

His hand twitched in his lap as if he had decided to reach out and touch you had but reconsidered at the last possible moment. With a sigh, he turned his head and looked out the window instead, completely silent for the rest of the journey to his place.

[willowaudreykeyes]

Prompt: myths and chaos with Logan with the line “so apparently microwaving this ancient manuscript isn’t a good way to find out its secrets.”

Remus’ Puzzle Temple Of Friendship And Chaos

Warnings: Baby eldritch thing, tentacles, one eye, vague sexual reference that’s from a song

Platonic Logince, brotherly-and-on-good-terms Creativitwins and Intrulogical of whatever relationship interpretation that you want.

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

Roman

“Remind me to thank your brother at dinner tonight.”

“That’s if we make it to dinner. And you all call me extra; he made an entire temple for us to explore within a week!” He spent a lot of energy on it too. I still remember the shaky finger he pointed at me after the second day of working on this Incan-like temple; slurring tiredly about not going into the space between our Kingdoms and ruining the surprise. He also forced me to carry him to his room as he dangerously swayed on his feet. I’ll have to thank him by working just as hard for his and Logan’s adventure after the two of us finish this one.

“I know; yet I’ve yet to thank him for doing so. And I must ask how long it took to make this language.” Taking my first glance at said language, I recognise it immediately as the first language that Remus and I had known. We had known it better than English at one point, until Patton insisted that we make English our main language so that we wouldn’t confuse Thomas. 

“Oh, we’ve always known it. We used to speak it in front of Patton as kids to confuse him and we still use it occasionally whenever we send a letter, or in his case a slab of mysterious leather, between our Kingdoms.”

“So you can translate this?”

“Of course!” I hold the slightly chipped black and red tablet out at arms length, quickly noticing that everything on the tablet makes no sense. No wonder he was so tired after every day in the Imagination; he even made us a puzzle. “It’s encrypted though, so we have to figure out what the cypher is first. And knowing Remus, it could be anything.”

He takes it from my hands and adjusts his glasses for the fiftieth time today before tapping his chin. I doubt Logan realises that he has so many visual tells when he becomes passionate and interested. “He would leave a clue somewhere where we could find it. He’s chaotic, not unfair.”

“Aha!” In a spark of inspiration, I rough up my hair and gain a huff of defeat from the neighbourhood nerd as I do the same to his own. It had dust from the temple in it anyway. “We just have to think like Remus! Now what’s the most logical place to put a cypher for this thing?”

“Where we found it.”

“Okay. Now what’s the opposite of that?”

His eyebrows do that cute thing where they pinch down a bit when he’s confused. I don’t bother hiding my smile as his eyes shift around, taking in invisible words as he tries to find my line of thinking. “I’m… not following. The opposite of where we found it is every room that we didn’t find it in, and we went through forty-three rooms and eight hallways; perhaps half or less of the entire temple judging by the size and spacing between each room.”

“And only twelve not-too-tough traps, which is less then his usual quota…” Probably because of the exhaustion, but I should have figured that out earlier. I’ll up the level of hazards in his next one as a double thank you for his hard work. “Anyway, we must think chaotically if we are to beat the chaotic one!”

With a silent nod, he attempts to fix his hair as I take in our camp and the temple before us. It’s very reminiscent of an Incan temple in design yet is mainly made out of pitch black obsidian; with intricate wall carvings engraved with pure ruby, emerald, moonstone and diamond; and a whole lot of animal and human skulls that are packed tightly into every ceiling. And I must say, adding the creatures from both of our Kingdoms as the wall carvings is a nice touch. 

Except I won’t say it out loud because the majority of them are of naked people, naked cannibals and of naked murders. 

At least our camp has some more class to it! Logan wished for something realistic, but was soon swayed by my enchanted Harry Potter tent that’s magically large enough to have a working bathroom and still look like a ‘regular’ camping tent from the outside. I do like regular camping, but I prefer to have a shower after a tub of Thomas-knows-what is dropped over us and getting into every uncomfortable crevasse. Just thinking about that disgusting concoction makes me shudder.

“... Perhaps our microwave?”

I snap my gaze back to him, beaming at his rather shy sounding remark. He always sounds shy when he says something that deviates from his path of logic. At least he’s opening up a little more. “Perfect! I knew you’d think of something!”

“It was the first usable thing that I saw. Were you daydreaming again?”

“Nope- Using the microwave to solve a cypher sounds like something Remus’ mind would think up. He did mix sardines, lettuce and one of your ties in the blender before drinking it once.” I mumble the last half -I probably shouldn’t out Remus just yet for drinking Logan’s tie a few months ago- and put the tablet in the microwave and set it to three minutes. Three is the magic number after all.

“Did you say something?” 

“Mumbling ideas to myself is all!”

The microwave suddenly glows a bright purple and I manage to drag Logan in close before blocking something from hitting the both of us with my summoned shield. With a pop, crackle, fizz and several loud noises that sound like tearing metal; I risk peeking over it in perfect sync with Logan. The sight of three large tentacles wiggling out of the new holes in the camp's microwave brings out a sigh from me. A very loud sigh. Remus could probably hear it and currently giggling to himself from the comfort of his bedroom.

“It may be best not to touch those. Or the microwave.”

“But the tablet!” Logan pushes by my shield and barely escapes my reach before I am able to pull him away. With a straight posture and a quick slick back of his hair, he opens it and nearly jumps into my arms Scooby-Doo style from the loud pop that occurs. I’m in front of him again within a moment, but the usual feeling of hostility that Remus puts on his dangerous creatures as a warning is lacking. At least this thing won’t try and face-hug me like that faceless chicken that guarded the temple did.

Inside was a brown-black-blue ball of tentacles, with three longer than the others that retract out of the newly-made holes in the microwave. My heart stutters as a singular, goat-like, boysenberry coloured eye opens from one of the many seams in the creature; just to quickly dart it’s vision between the two of us before landing it’s creepy gaze on Logan. “Huh. So apparently, microwaving the ancient manuscript isn’t a good way to find it’s secrets- but a great way to hatch an eldritch abomination.”

“If you’d hand me a blanket, perhaps bringing it with us would be advantageous in future explorations.” Of course he wants to bring the nightmare creature; he always does. I hand him the nearby dish towel instead as I don’t feel like leaving this thing alone with Logan would end nicely.

“As long as you're carrying it.”

“Of course; you’re the one with the sword and shield.” I’m rather sure that that means that he would make me carry the disgusting creature if I wasn’t the one with our only ways of defending ourselves; and I don’t know if I should dramatically put my hand to my chest in horror or just pout.

I go for the pout.

Only for it to be rather rudely ignored as he cradles the little beast in its new home, wrapping it’s longer tentacles around Logan’s hands and attempting to remove his watch for a moment before I manage to grab it before they do. Logan’s too busy holding it in one hand and going through his cue cards to notice though. “And I shall name it as randomly as I can; since Remus seems to name all of his creations.” 

“Why?”

“It’s only polite to follow custom; and the custom for Remus is to name his creatures.” I hate everything about this -plus the tablet is just full on missing or destroyed now too- but Logan seems enraptured by the little thing. I roll my eyes and put on my backpack as Logan already begins walking up the temple steps. We just had lunch, so we have a chance of leaving before dinner, but I highly doubt it.

Despite not being able to see, the creature manages to grab out one of the cue cards from Logan’s hand before letting him snatch it back. With a quick smile after reading it, he pockets them all again before getting a better hold of the thing before it runs away and eats a whole deer or something. “It’s name shall be Anaconda-Do-Not.”

God-fucking-dammit Remus. I frown at the thing as we enter the fire-lit entrance, glad that its eye is hidden under the dish towel. Sheep eyes have always kind of creeped me out; especially on things that aren’t sheep. “You’re not allowed to hang out with Remus, Virgil or Janus anymore if they keep giving you those weirder cue cards.”

“This one’s from Remus. It’s a metaphor about-”

“I KNOW WHAT IT IS!” A light pain follows my facepalm, but I ignore it and march onwards. Hoping to get rid of this thing as quickly as possible. “Let’s just… go shove it into a keyhole or something already.”

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

By the way, I really hate that stupid Anaconda song and so I know that it’d be perfect for Remus. Hopefully the ending is alright because it was the only bit I really had issues with ^^’

Oh and Remus definitely fell in love with the new Eldritch creatures name.

@ladyedwina @5am-the-foxing-hour @sparrowofsong

[futurewriter2000]

Heartless - pt. 16

A/N: Whoever was the anon that told me to do a Mulciber x reader from this- I hate you and love you at the same time. Goddamn! God-fucking dammit I love myself some evil characters. Also, no gif for this because I don’t have time because I have to get to work in like 20 minutes and I’m still in my bath robe. Hope you like it babes and mwa <3

XX

‘ You walked into the classroom, empty as it was, so was your head. You hadn’t studied for this exam- was it Charms?

“The test will begin now.” you heard Professor Slughorn say as he waved his wand and the exam papers flew open to the first page.

Your eyes had gotten more confused. This wasn’t Charms, nor Potions... was this math? You looked up at the professor with your heart racing fastly, then your anxiety leading into frustration. You looked down for a pencil and you had not pencil, nor quill, no any other pen.

“Are you joking?” you heard someone laugh from a seat behind you.

You turned around with a panic, thought the paper exam disappeared in front of you and so did the professor. The classroom was empty, your soul started to become more soothing.

There; at the desk behind you sat a boy with his eyes, green as the colour could be, he kept chuckling, tilting his head back and running his hands through his dense curly hair until they rested behind his head. His smile was wide, his teeth perfectly straight and the corners of his mouth had perfect lines with dimples far in the middle of his cheeks.

“Mulciber?”

“You’re dreaming Hogwarts? And professor Slughorn?” he continued to laugh, putting his feet on the top of the desk.

And it was as if the tension you felt from your dreams, the control that you were not able to grasp before, was now in your hands and your hands were on the wheel. You could move your hands and you could stand up as if you were in the real world.

“You’re a Legilimen- and the dreamer one and you cannot control your dreams?” he kept looking at you and with your eyes solely focus on him, the background of your dreams changed back to the same place when he first visited.

“I’m starting my training soon.”

“Soon?” he scoffed. “Soon as in when school starts and then probably in the mid-October when that piss off Mad Eye Moody decides to actually mentor you?”

“He’s a great Auror.”

“He’s a drunk!” Mulciber started to get frustrated. “And would only waste your potential. You know what he would do to you?” he started to take steps towards you. “He would restrict you of all the things you could do with your gift and your gift- the gift we both share. It has no limits.” he was now close to you, whispering with greed and desire.

“You’re talking about black magic.”

“I’m talking about magic, darling.” he stepped away, jumping on the rocks that seemed to appear only in a second. “There is no good magic, bad magic. There is just magic and there are only bad wizards and good wizards.” he turned around on the last stone and kept looking at you with his eyes blazing into your soul. He jumped off, changing his whole energy into this playful, yellow aura that you could feel so lightly.

“And what do you propose?”

“You know exactly what I propose?” he walked to the edge of the cliff, looking as the sun started to set. “I know you’re considering it, so let’s speed this up-”

He was suddenly in front of you- in a flash. “I don’t want-”

“Yes, you do.” he was growling at you with eyes that screamed danger. “I’ve taken a notice in you, (Y/n) Potter since the moment you stepped onto that train- even before. “ he started. “With your pig tails that you took off the moment you got on the train, I knew you and me are meant to be connected.”

“Connected?” you laughed.

“Haven’t your mother told you about your ancestors, (y/n)?” he asked and your smile immediately faded. “Haven’t you ever wondered where you got this gift from? From who?” he continued to pull your curiousity, word after word. “You think you’re the first of the family? Why your mother acts so tense?”

“You’re-”

“I’m not lying. You know I can’t lie in dreams- and not with you since we’re connected.”

“We are not connected.”

“We are. The moment you let me into your head and the moment I let you into mine, you and me made a soul contract, darling. This isn’t the 3D world, love. This is much more greater than that. This is 5D. This is more than magic, more than anybody else could think. This are unlimited minds, thoughs, emotions, intensity, secrets to life, secrets to magic, secrets of people-”

“And you’re using it for evil.”

“I’m using it for my own personal gain. You would too.”

“I would never.”

“Yes, you would.”

“You don’t-”

“Let me finish.” he pressed his hand on top of your mouth gently, his other hand on your hip and squeezing you tenderly as his body pressed against yours. He was looking down on you with eyes, filled with lust and desire. The would wander on you for only a moment before he would speak in his voice low, almost like a hungry wolf talking down its prey. “The train ride was hopeful. I knew you’d be in Slytherin but you never were. You were a hat-stall. Two long minutes of indecisiveness and I was tensed because I needed you to be in Slytherin but you asked the Hat to put you in Gryffindor because of your brother-”

“I-” you tried to speak, your eyes furrowing angrily.

“Shhh.” he hushed you down, leaning forward until his lips were pressing onto his own palm as if they wanted to kiss you into silence. “I’m talking, remember?” he said with dominance. “But I knew you were a Slytherin. I saw how you managed to do everything by yourself. To pull yourself from the depth- I could have felt you dying inside for a year, filling yourself with pills-” your eyes widened and for a moment you looked away. “And I wanted to reach out to you so desperately because how you felt, I felt. It wasn’t easy but my father wouldn’t let me. He said it’s a test for you- a test you passed. You pulled yourself out by yourself, you took your own pain and turned it into something good- something great. Oh, I knew you and me will become the unstoppable pair just like our ancestors.” he smiled. “But that’s for another day.” he winked and pushed himself away from you, turning you his back.

“You-” you started to talk but felt like you couldn’t breathe. “You knew about-”

“Of course, I knew. I felt you. Your year was my year. Year of torture.” he seethed through his teeth. “I wanted to murder you, you know? You put me in such misery back then.”

“Then why didn’t you? You could have done me a favour.”

“Because I’d screw up my life if I ended yours.” he let out a laugh. “Seeing you in the hall- Merlin, you were so pathethic and sad. It almost made me cry.”

You felt something bubble inside of your stomach, a ball forming in your throat as tears wanted to push themselves from their eyes but you only swallowed thickly and felt the anger bubble.

“Seeing you trying to emotionally fulfil yourself with torturing others, bullying them because you weren’t pleased with yourself, beating Sirius because he rebelled towards his family and you couldn’t, made me almost cry too.” you snapped at him and his eyes widened. There was pure surprise on his face but it started to resemble much more like pride.

“And then came the passion.” he continued to smile, walking down to you. “When I saw you standing up to your brother and his friends, when I saw you hate them as much as I hated them, oh I knew you and me were about to have so much fun in the futrue and I have been patient so the day you reached out to me was the day that I had been waiting on.”

“Reached out to you?”

“The day at the woods. I read the book, you were in the bed- who do you think created that scene in your head. Who do you think pulled you out, dummy? You think I wanted the Dark Lord to take you away from me like that. No, I had to scare you away from him. I had to tip off that piss off twat to come and rescue you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Merlin, (y/n)? Are you really that daft?” he continued to laugh. “Or just naive? Or just ignorant? Me and you are connected. When you were dying on the ground, your soul reached out to me- because of our ancestors- because we are the reicarnation-”

“You’re talking crazy.”

“Am I?” he opened his arms. “You and me were meant to be- when we’re together, we’re stronger but first-” he started to walk towards you. “-first you need to learn what I had learn and the best was to do that is with my help.”

And he was right. Despite how much you did not want it to be him, you wanted this for yourself. You wanted to see where this gift or curse or whatever it was, lead you to. You wanted to unlock every single potential in your body and he knew so much. He knew so much more and he had told you everything in just these short period of time meanwhile your own mother was holding back your family secret. You had always been the odd one out and you could never figure out why but now since you had found out that one of your ancestors were just like you- you trusted him more. You wanted him to be the one to teach you because he was the only one who did not lie to you and you were just so sick of people lying to you, constantly to your face. It was tiring and you wanted this. You had the need for this and it may have sounded heartless but you didn’t care about your family at the moment. All you cared about was you and your comfort and your future.

“Meet me at the bar down the Muggles street tonight.” he was close to you because he already knew the answer to his proposal. “I want to see you in person.” he touched your cheek with his soft hand, looking at you with eyes so caring. “Wear something... edgy.” he winked, starting to back away as you just wanted to reach out for his warm hand. ‘

The moment you blinked was the moment you woke up in the dark room. You sat up and looked around- letting something catch your eye at the window. You walked to it and found a ripped piece of parchment on the shelf.

“Don’t drink your coffee this morning, darling.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, seeing as the letters had burnt out and changed it shape. “Don’t you trust me?” it said on it and you rolled your eyes, laughing.

“Said the scorpion to the the frog.” you told yourself.

“And then they both drowned.” said the parchment. “We’re in this together, darls. Keep that in mind.” and the parchement burnt itself, poofing into dust and resolving into thin air.

[shiftynightshade]

TW// Suicide Ideation/thoughts, suicide baiting, mentions of self-harm, intrusive thoughts/ bullying/ feeling numb.

Soulmates, everyone has one.

 For Izuku Midoriya, he watches his soulmate's percentages and wonders how his appears to them.

 (Would They Even Want A Quirkless Soulmate?)

 As he stands on the edge of the roof, Kacc- no Bakugou's words float around in his brain. 'Take a swan dive and hope for a quirk in your next life’, the jeers of his classmates (tormentors), All Might’s jaded stare as he crushed his dreams moments before, the heroes cruel glares as they berated him for playing hero.

(He feels a slow numbness enter his body as he stares at the pavement hundreds of feet below him. Maybe the blond was right.)

Just one more step and he'd be free-

Slow warmth erupted on his arm, phantom sensations of ink and a pen scrawling across his arm made his skin tingle.

 Clumsily jerking at his sleeve, he stared in wonder as five shades of ink spread across his skin and danced around his scars, (once stained a coppery red shining in the moonlight), green, pink, blue, and a mix of red and white appearing on his skin and lining silvery skin.

‘Please don’t, we want to meet you, please.’

(Izuku had been told stories of soulmates, how the power of been tied to another being through the galaxy, how it had saved so many other from tipped over the edge. Oh how much he had longed to reach out to his pairs-)

And it has happened, for the first time in months, Izuku felt hope.

He jerked from the edge, breath shaky. Izuku clutched his wrist, a wobbly smile spreading across his face as his skin was covered in a multitude of colours. Izuku scrabbled for his bag, grabbing the first pen he could and quickly pressed it to his skin, hastily writing whatever he coulf.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’

Pink, glowing in a way that looked like a supernova, crawled along his skin.

‘Are you okay? There’s no reason to apologise.’

Blue sped its way alongside the pink, shining silvery blue when the light hit it.

‘Would you like to meet up?’

His answer was instant. ‘Yes’

Five minutes later and five phone number drawn from his skin and into his phone, Izuku carefully left the roof, clutching his phone like a lifeline.

****

Things changed very quickly after that.

He learned his soulmates names, where they lived and their quirks.

He gently wrote their names and quirks down in a new notebook, a little pricier, sure, but as he filled the pages, he found that he didn’t mind.

Each page with a different coloured pen, easily matching the ink on his arms. (So what if he spent forever looking for a blue that shimmered an ethereal silver, or a pink pen that glittered like the stars?)

On Friday night he had stayed up late, gently tracing each name as he counted down the hours until they met the next day.

Ochako, Zero Gravity.

(What will happen when they learn that you’re Quirkless? They’re going to leave you like Bakugou did, like dad did.)

‘Shut up’

Tenya, Engine.

(Do you want to risk it?)

‘They won’t leave me.’

Tsuyu, Frog.

(Like Bakugou promised that you two would become heroes together, and look how that turned out.)

‘It won’t be like that, no empty promises.’

Shoto, Half-Hot Half-Cold.

‘How about you shut the fuck up for once in my damn life!’

It was quiet after that.

****

Izuku waved his mother good-bye as he walked outside the door, her face filled with excitement.

They had agreed to meet up at a café close to the train station, and Tsuyu had sent a picture of the table number into their quickly filling group chat.

And oddly enough, they had not asked Izuku once what his quirk was.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

The sun shone and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Many people roamed around, smiles on their faces as the day went on. Izuku found the café with little trouble, the fairy lights and vines dangling in lieu of a canopy adding a fairy-tale like feel to it.

Glancing around Izuku felt anticipation bubble up under his skin. ‘Am I the first one here?’

Soft laughter reached over from a corner table, easily drawing his attention to a group of three. His eyes met the number of the table. 5.

The brunette girl met his eyes and they stared at each other for a few seconds before a large smile crossed her face and she waved enthusiastically. “Izuku!”

Izuku squeaked as her shout drew the other two’s attention, their eyes each widening before smiling brightly and waving him over.

Drawing in a deep breath Izuku walked to the table, giving his own meek wave, sitting in the chair that was between the brunette and boy.

The girl with green hair smiled. “Good to see you for the first time Izuku.” He blushed, but smiled anyways. “Likewise, Tsuyu?”

Tsuyu grinned. “Call me Tsu.”

Izuku nodded, letting out a squeak when the other girl grabbed his hand and gave a positively blinding smile.

“I’m Ochako! It’s great to finally meet you!”

Izuku could feel his face burning. God the energy here was infectious.

The boy next to him smiled. “Please, call me Tenya!”

Izuku mumbled out a breathy “uh-huh” but mostly stared at his eyes. They kept shining different colours whenever the light hit them, first black, the blue, then red, then gold.

‘Like a really pretty version of an oil spill.’

Tenya sent him a questioning glance. “Is there something on my face?”

“Your eyes are really pretty.” Izuku blurted out, stammering out an apology when Tenya‘s face burned a bright red and he buried his face in his hands.

Ochako laughed. “We said the same thing!”

Tsu hummed. “Where is Shoto? He said he would be here.”

A quiet voice piped up from behind them. “Right here.”

Izuku looked up from where he had begun to look through his bag, eyes widening in surprise.

The two-toned hair and scar immediately gave away who he was, even under the hoodie he was wearing. ‘Shoto Todoroki, holy shit.’

Tenya smiled brightly. “Hello Shoto!”

Shoto gave a small nod and sat in the remaining chair, though a ghost of a smile played on his lips.

He let out a small breath. “I’m not going to lie, I’m glad that none of you have freaked out.”

He glared at the table. “I’m not exactly on the best terms with my old man.”

Surprisingly Tenya was the first to speak up. “Fair enough, personally I never really liked Endeavour either.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Even when I was younger he wasn’t a courteous person, even at Hero Gala’s.”

 “Hero Gala’s?”

Tenya froze before letting out a frustrated huff.

“Dammit, not that I’m ashamed of my family or anything, but I don’t exactly like to broadcast it.”

Ochako shook her hands excitedly. “C’mon Tenya! Spill!”

Tenya sighed. “My family has been filled with pro-heroes for generations, it runs in our blood.”

A more proud expression fill his face. “You know the Turbo Hero Ingenium?”

At their nods he grinned proudly. “He’s my elder brother!”

Izuku gasped. “Really?!”  

Ochako laughed. “That’s awesome!”

Shoto stared then cleared his throat. “Where you the five year old that slapped him and told him that he was being mean, and heroes shouldn’t be mean?”

Tsu’s ribbit was startled. “Really?

Tenya chuckled. “Yes, that was me.”

Ochako cackled. “That’s awesome!” Her face turned thoughtful. “Hey Izuku, you said that Endeavour wasn’t the greatest hero, is it because of hoe aggressive he is?”

Izuku nodded rapidly. “Practicality wise he’s a good hero, though theoretically at the same time he’s not the best when it comes to personality and he does have the most damage done when it comes to property, civilians and villains.”  

Looking up from where he had crossed his arms into his ‘thinking pose’, as his mother had described it, one hand cradling his elbow and the other clutching his chin. He quickly realised that his soulmates were staring at him.

“S-sorry, I was rambling again, wasn’t I?”

Ochako smiled. “Yeah, you were. But that’s okay! Kinda cool honestly.”

Izuku let out a small breath, blushing when he noticed Shoto staring at him with wide eyes.

“Izuku, do you happen to be on any hero forums?”

Izuku laughed. “Yup! I like to think that I’m pretty well known on a few forums.”

Shoto leaned forward. “What’s your user?”

Izuku rubbed the back of his head. “The Analyst.”

Shoto let out a wheezy squeak. “You’re joking.”

Ochako looked between them like there was a tennis match. “Wait I’m confused.”

Shoto shook his head incredulously. “The Analyst is an extremely popular user on many hero forums, very well known for his essays and both popular and controversial opinions when it comes to both heroes and how society discriminates based on quirks and gender.”

Shoto inhaled. “And, is considered to be a veteran amongst most users, very respected in the community.”

Tenya chuckled. “You seem to be very well versed in the community yourself Shoto.”

Tsu nodded. “How do you know all this?

Shot/o blushed. “I- Well I have a theory account, on YoTube.”

Ochako leaned over. “Oh really?”

Shoto smirked. “Cryptid Theory.”

Izuku nearly slammed into the table with how quickly he leaned over. “Holy shit, really!?”

Shoto nodded.

“I’ve been subscribed to you forever!”

Shoto opened his mouth only for a waiter to walk up to their table. “Are you lot ready to order?”

Five milkshakes later and Ochako brought up the dreaded question.

“Oh by the way Izuku, you never told us your quirk. Is it analysing or something?”

The rest of the table looked to him, and Izuku sank into his seat to hide behind his glass.

“Uh- I well.”

He cleared his throat, wringing his hands together.

“That’s the thing. I- I don’t have a quirk.”

The four of them stared. Stomach starting to churn, Izuku dug his fingers into his wrist. ‘Shitshitshitshitshit-‘

“Oh, ok.”

Snapping his head up Izuku stared at their expressions, all supportive.

Tenya grabbed his hands gently. “We don’t care that you’re Quirkless Izuku, quirk or no quirk, that’s not your defining trait of who you are.”

The rest of them nodded.

Izuku could easily feel the tell-tale burn of tears gathering along his water line.

He smiled at his soulmates as they quietly panicked at his tears.

“T-thanks.” He sniffled.

Ochako smiled. “Of course.”

Tenya handed him a napkin which he accepted with a small thank-you.

Izuku blew his nose, smiling brightly. “Thanks, I’m okay though, just… overwhelmed I guess.”

Tsu gave a sad ribbit. “I’m going to guess that being Quirkless is really hard, isn’t it?”

Izuku nodded hesitantly. “Other than my mum, you guys are the only ones that haven’t been physically or emotionally abusive.”

Ochako honest to god growled. “Want me to suplex them?”

Tenya nodded. “Plus I’m quite sure that Quirkless discrimination is illegal so you could technically sue the school.”

Izuku frowned. “They always delete the footage though.”

Tenya grinned. “Not if you know the right people!”

He reached into his bag and pulled out a slim laptop with a mischievous smirk. “What’s your school name?”

“Aldera Middle School, why?”

Tenya motioned for them to gather around his laptop, which had already booted up and was giving off a dark blue glow.

Tenya smirked. “Well when your family agency is based around communication and technology, you pick up on a few things.”

As Tenya’s fingers flew over the keyboard Izuku watched in awe as the code for the schools security main frame appeared on screen. “My older brother allows me to help out at the agency most days, so I help run the comms and all Iida’s know how to hack. Sometimes when pursuing a villain we need all out access to doors and security feed, and we also help out with investigations.”

“This is like something straight out of a spy movie!”

Tenya chuckled. “Something like that.”

Seconds later and the security feed was all over Tenya’s screen. “Now all I need to do is a little reversing and…”

Tenya reached into his bag and pulled out a USB, plugging it in and downloading all the footage, both visual and audio files. Once the download was complete Tenya handed the USB to Izuku. “Just in case.”

Izuku nearly burst into tears again. “Thanks Tenya.”

He shook his head. “No problem.”

As Ochako fawned over the whole incident Izuku drew back and smiled, gently thumbing the USB drive.

‘Things might just turn out for the better’

[samwritesforyou]

On My Guard (pt. 2)

Summary: After inviting your bodyguard to stay over, because you needed some genuine company after a long day, you discover something new about him. Which also leads to some memories that were long almost forgotten.

Warnings: gender-neutral reader

Wordcount: 1.1k

A/N: god, i really hope i won't disappoint anyone by this chapter, but basically i wanted a little twist like this probably from the very beginning already, hehe. for now i have no idea where this series could be going, but its definitely fun to write!

Originally requested by: @ellefosterg​

part one can be found here!

You ordered pizza that evening when you were suddenly not alone in your huge house. You had friends over often, of course, but it was never him yet. The day was crazy, your privacy was invaded and people were trying to grab you as if you were some kind of possession, more than of a human being that you actually are. You shook your head at your disturbing memories, trying to blink them away and focus on the current moment. Your eyes wandered towards your bodyguard, who was now just awkwardly standing in the middle of the hallway and the living room, not sure of what to do next. As soon as you came home you automatically threw the jacket on the hanger and stayed dressed in a simple shirt and some comfortable jeans. It was rather hot outside and inside. And yet... Diego was in his full gear, as always. Black turtleneck and pants of the same colour, with a firm belt. “Aren’t you warm?” you asked and smiled a little curiously, leaning over the kitchen island that was situated just next to the living room, without a wall between them, something like an open-space room designed on the first floor for most of the areas. This caught your guest off guard and he opened his mouth a few times like a fish, no sound coming out. “I.. have only a light undershirt beneath it,” he said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand. “And?..” you raised your eyebrows and then giggled, turning on your feet to the fridge, “I think the temperature here is just right for some undershirt!” you concluded, grabbing both of you two cans of beer and slamming the door shut. There was a faint “alright” that you almost didn’t notice, so when you made your way towards the couches, he was already sitting there, indeed, without a turtleneck. His body was very well built because you could get a glimpse of his six-pack even through the fabric of the shirt. You turned your gaze off of his body immediately though - not letting yourself being caught staring - and just gave him one of the bottles. You sat in front of him on the second sofa and finally took a good look at him because Diego was preoccupied admiring your place. As he was holding the glass, you detected a tattoo on his wrist and tilting your head you tried to get a better sight of it. “Whatcha looking at?” he squinted his eyes, putting the hand to his lips and taking a big sip of the liquid. That startled you and made you flinch, colour rushing to the cheeks quite instantly. He didn’t feel like an employee that was working for you right now. And you liked it. “Ahh, it’s just.. you have a tattoo?” you waved your hands in the air in embarrassment and then pointed with a finger towards one of his wrists, biting your lip. You couldn’t even see it properly yet, dammit. Diego briefly spared it a glance himself and then slowly turned his gaze to you once again. “Shit.. there was definitely ‘no tattoos’ rule in the employee qualifications, I’m sorry y/n,” he furrowed his brows and sighed heavily. That... wasn’t at all what has crossed your mind! And also... “I didn’t even know that there’s that point in the contract! I wasn’t talking about that, Diego, I was just genuinely curious. I can’t really see it, uh..” you tried to change your sitting pose billion times now, trying to see it clearly, “here, just let me,” you didn’t even finish your sentence when you quite impatiently just plopped yourself on the space next to him, now examining his wrist. Slowly, as your brain was absorbing the meaning of his ink, your eyes widened and you couldn’t bring your eyes up to meet his. “This is... the umbrella academy tattoo,” you didn’t even ask, it was a statement. Because you knew it. You were a fan, back in the day. Hell, everyone was! “Yeah,” he almost barked out and jerked his hand away, sipping on his beer. “Wait.. wait wait wait wait wait,” you started remembering something with that fact, tangling your fingers into your hair, “oh my.. god.” “What?” Diego asked, visibly nervous. Maybe he thought you didn’t like that new fact about him?... You were feeling almost nauseous from the feeling of finally connecting the dots because this whole time you knew something just wasn’t adding up! You excitedly put your legs up and say more comfortably, now finally looking at your bodyguard. “A robbery!” you started, “one year ago?... You were badly injured and I offered you patching you up after you chased the bad guys away?” you were moving back and forth on the sofa, looking with the sparks in your eyes as you awaited his reply. His cogs were spinning and head steaming, he was really trying hard to remember, until mentioned memory finally hit him and his eyes went wide too. “There was no electricity, so you used your phone and some candles to have some light to clean me up from that mess,” he continued instead of you now, knitting his eyebrows even deeper. “Yes! Yes, oh my god! It was you!” you were now just out of it as if you just finished a movie with some last-second plot twist that changed the whole storyline. And it kind of did. Because as you clearly remember, after you finally tended to his wounds, even though he had some partial mask on his face, you two started quite mercilessly flirting with each other... and it ended in one passionate kiss. After which your unknown hero had to leave because it was “so late already, I can’t keep you up at night like this, we don’t even know each other, sorry, but maybe we can meet again!” and jumped away from your window into the dead of night. ... Fuck. It seems like the memories of that evening sprung in Diego’s mind just as clearly as yours and now you were just staring at each other in silence. Your lips were slightly parted from the persisting surprise that you were still overwhelmed by. Since you were watching Diego’s face intensely now, you’ve caught that millisecond when his eyes landed on your lips, lingering just for the briefest moment, until he literally blinked his gaze away from you, sighing in disbelief. He was now leaning forward on his elbows, hands clasped together and head sunk between the shoulders, you couldn’t even get a view of his face like this. Okay, what can he possibly be thinking about? Your mind was going thousand miles per hour, trying to figure out the emotions of your only guest tonight. You excused yourself to the bathroom and despite all your efforts to make it look like a calm walk, you basically fled there and slammed the door shut behind yourself for a good measure.

Taglist for Diego works: @radcloudenthusiast @spacenerdpascal​

[avis-writeshq]

Akaashi Keiji x Reader - 青いバラ (Blue Rose)

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Fem!Reader

Summary: Blue rose - a flower of the genus Rosa that presents blue-to-violet pigmentation instead of the common red, white, or yellow. Blue roses are often used to symbolise secret or unattainable love.

Warnings: VAST MENTIONS OF DEATH, mentions of blood, slow burn, ANGST, fluff if you look carefully, and 9k words of me procrastinating and trying very hard to keep the fic alive. ALSO HANAHAKI DISEASE AU BC I’M ADDICTED :D

Other: Yo, sorry for dying on you giuys for like, a while. School started up again this week but it was online and I was procrastinating on legit eVerYtHiNg oop so, anyway, hugs and kisses, hope you enjoy this fic because I am so freaking in love with Akaashi it isn’t funny anymore. 

Ngl, this fic took like 2+ weeks to complete, and my editor can attest to that :’) Hope you guys enjoy and don’t let this flop. Your requests are coming out soon so thank you for your support! Also I need a nice anon fam to keep nmme happy and occupied during quarantine :)

Word count: 9.1k                                                                                              

Editor: @creative-hours-open​

Things you probably wanna know, for all you ‘x reader’ illiterates:

(Y/N): Your Name

(H/C): Hair Colour / Color

(E/C): Eye Colour / Color

(N/N): Nickname

 ***

You don’t remember when these feelings came to be. You don’t remember when you first felt your heart skip a beat whenever he walked past you. You don’t remember the first time you started replaying all your conversations with him in your head when it was 3 am and your brain wouldn’t shut up. You don’t remember the first time you blushed when he sent you a soft smile after you stared for a second too long. No, you don’t remember those things; but you do remember the first time a small blue rose petal appeared in your hand after you coughed too hard.

 Hanahaki Disease: Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 ) is a disease where the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

 For months you lived with this disease not even your parents knew. How could they? After all, they were each other’s first love – their love wasn’t one-sided and besides, you didn’t want to worry them; you can get through this yourself.

 Right?

 You leaned over the bucket, velvet-soft petals tickling your throat before pouring into the overflowing bucket. Tears prickled the sides of your eyes, threatening to spill just like the petals that scattered to the ground.

 God, does this ever stop? You coughed again, gasping for air as you sat on your knees on the cold tile floor. Shit, what time was it? You have school today! Coughing one last petal out, you emptied the bucket into a plastic bag and threw it to the side, grabbing your school bag and rushing out the house.

 You couldn’t be late… the bus leaves and waits for nobody. You ran as fast as you could to the bus stop, stopping only to get oxygen back into your system. You still had the wind knocked out of you from spewing rose petals all over the bathroom, but you made it just in time.

The bus was basically full with the only seat that was empty being…

 Shit.

 You genuinely thought of flinging yourself out of the bus or just standing, but that wasn’t an option.

 “Hey, sit down, will ya? I can’t move if you don’t,” the bus driver grunted as you flinched.

 “S-sorry, sir…” you mumbled, holding your breath when you sat in the only seat available.

 Clutching the bag in your lap tightly, you tried your best to ignore the awkward presence next to you. You went to the same school as him! You shouldn’t be feeling this uneasy…

 “Ah, (L/N) (Y/N), right?”

 Fuck.

 You raise your eyes to meet his eyes. “Yes…? You’re Akaashi Keiji.”

 He nodded, giving you a once over before finally saying, “Did you go to the flower shop beforehand?”

 “No…?”

 “You have a flower on your shirt,” he explained. “Well, a petal.”

 Your eyes widened and you looked down at the collar of your shirt. Lo and behold, a bright blue petal was tucked away, but you can see most of it poking out. You felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

 “Oh… ha ha… thank you?”

 He nodded. “It’s fine…” He was quiet for a moment before murmuring, “blue looks good on you.”

 ***

 Why did he have to be in the same class as you? Every single time he was near you, the flower in your lungs thought that it would be a wonderful time to bloom. Right after the bus stop, for example, you coughed your lungs out into a janitor’s basket before forcing your way to class.

 Biology, the first class of the day and he was a foot away from you. Did the gods have something against you? Twenty minutes into the class, you felt yourself on the verge of another coughing fit.

 You raised your hand meekly, and the teacher looked at you, an eyebrow raised in mockery. Your other hand was covering your mouth as you forced the bright blue rose petals down but you couldn’t. You let out a cough, a few petals falling into your hand. Begrudgingly, the teacher lets you go to the bathroom, and you run out the door frantically.

 ‘How pathetic,’ you thought to yourself as you coughed out more petals. The roots were getting deeper, you can tell. You cough harshly once more, and a small rose bud falls onto the tiled bathroom floors. ‘Get over yourself. He won’t look at you twice.’

 But you knew that. You knew that more than the next person. So why… Why couldn’t you get over him? Each cough hurt more than the last, and the toilet was full of small blue petals. Some had small splotches of blood on them, and you could smell the metallic scent of the blood overtaking the soft scent of roses and tears. You wiped your tears with the cuffs of your school blazer. No more, you willed yourself, stepping out of the cubicle.

 Splashing cold water on your face, you let out a breath as you stared at yourself in the mirror. When did you stoop so low? Your eyes were blotched with tears and your cheeks were hollow from not eating. This was just too much. You clenched your eyes closed, tears rolling onto your cheeks as you did. You shook your head; time to get back to class.

 ***

“Hey, are you okay?” Aneko asked gently as you nibbled on your lunch.

 You mustered a smile to please her. “I’m okay.”

 “You had a coughing fit this morning; I don’t think you’re okay.” She gave you a disapproving look and you couldn’t help but flinch under her scrutinising gaze.

 “It’s just a cough. It’ll pass.”

 You can tell she doesn’t believe you, but your silence finishes off the conversation. Well, it should, anyway.

 “(L/N)-san, are you feeling alright?” A voice asks from above you, and you felt your heart drop.

 “Akaashi-san. Yes, I’m okay, thank you.” You don’t look at him, eyes drawn to the bento in front of you as you fought the soft blush on your cheeks.

 “If you keep coughing, the nurse should be able to give you some medicine,” he says gently, his eyes looking at you from above.

 Your eyes flickered to his for a second. “I don’t think there’s a medicine that can help me.”

 He opened his mouth to respond but is pulled away by a loud and boisterous third year. “AKAASHIII!!!”

 “They need you,” you said, closing your bento. “I have to go. Let’s go, Aneko. Thank you for your concern, but I really should get going.”

 “But-”

 “AKAASHIII!”

 He sent you one last look before running after his friend. You just stayed silent, clenching your fists in your lap as Aneko shot you a confused look.

 “I didn’t know you were friends with Akaashi,” she remarked, frowning at you. “What happened?”

 “Aneko,” you murmured, tears prickling your eyes, “do you know of the Hanahaki disease?”

 Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me…”

 You just sent her a wry smile before running to the bathroom.

 ***

Another disastrous day. The bus was relatively empty on the way home, probably because some of the boys had afterschool volleyball training. Pulling your phone out of your blazer pocket, you opened up Google.

 ‘Is there a way to get rid of the Hanahaki Disease?’

 Multiple sites came up; some were even websites of hospitals that claimed to get rid of the disease.

 You pressed on a tab that seemed to answer your question.

 ‘Surgery can help, but I had a friend who was unable to feel affection after the surgery.’

 ‘You should confess first!’

 ‘The medical bills are really expensive, but it’s worth it.’

 ‘Would you rather suffocate from flower petals or lose the ability to love? My sister did it and she regrets it all.’

 ‘There’s a guy who does it in India for cheap.’

 ‘The cheapest is 150,000 yen. Good luck.’

 You groaned, closing the tab and leaned back in your chair. Could this day get any worse? How were you supposed to get 150,000 yen, anyway? Even if you could afford the surgery, there was no way your parents would even allow you to take it. Hugging your bag closer to your chest, you let out a sigh. The only way to get rid of these emotions was to either have the person love you back, get over him, or surgery. There was, of course, the prospect of drowning yourself in bleach, but you didn’t think that your friends and family would agree to such ‘extreme’ methods.

 ‘Dammit, Akaashi, you’re giving me problems when I need it the least,’ you thought to yourself, as you stepped out of the bus. How long does it take for this disease to kill you, anyway?

 The answer was six months. According to your research, you have had the Hanahaki Disease for a minimum of four months, so you were basically on the verge of death. In other words, you had 2 months to either take the surgery, get him to fall in love with you, or die. The options didn’t seem too promising.

 Your parents weren’t home today, as usual. A note was waiting for you on the kitchen bench and you suppressed a sigh.

 ‘Dinner is in the microwave. Don’t skip your dinner.

~ Love, Dad’

 You skipped dinner anyway.

 ***

School counsellors were really… different. They’re not teachers, but they teach you valuable ‘life lessons’ when you really need it. They’re not nurses but they take care of you when you’re hurt. Well, they take care of you when you’re hurt mentally.

 According to a lot of other students, the counsellor at Fukurodani could either be your best friend or sworn enemy. But at this point, you were desperate. You really needed advice and you couldn’t just ask your friends. No, that wouldn’t work out. After all, they were as insane as you.

 “Tell me whatever you need to tell me,” she said with a gentle smile as you looked around the room that enclosed you.

 The room was really… childish? Ladybug wall stickers decorated the walls topped with  a huge cat poster plastered  by the door. And still you questioned yourself, God, what were you supposed to say?

 You had it rehearsed in your mind, ‘I have the Hanahaki Disease,’ but when it was your turn to talk, your tongue was glued to the roof of your mouth.

 The woman across from you, bless her, just sat there with a patient nod. She handed you a pen and paper. 

“Can you write it for me?” She asks as she puts her glasses on.

 You did as you were told.

 You watched as she read over your scrawl and her jaw dropped. It just… dropped. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but her jaw dropped as she gaped at you, glasses askew.

 “The Hanahaki Disease… are you sure?”

 You raised an eyebrow as if to ask, ‘I have rose petals coming out of my mouth and you think I’m not sure?’

 She sighed, leaning back in her chair. “You know, that is very dangerous. Have you consulted a doctor? Have you told your parents?”

 “I don’t want to worry anyone,” you mumbled, “my parents aren’t home a lot so they wouldn’t have time to take me to the doctors, and the surgery is pretty-”

 “You’re considering the surgery?” She cut you off, mouth open and surprised but there was more to that; she was… concerned.

 You grimaced. “What else can I do?”

 She raised an unamused eyebrow but a ghost of a smile  spread on her face. “You can try telling him?”

 The thought alone made you feel sick. “I don’t think I can. He obviously doesn’t like me that way.”

 “Have you tried talking to him?” She prompted, taking out a notepad to write in before nodding at you to continue.

 “We only had one decent conversation and that was about English homework. We’ve only talked once outside of school and…” you fell silent, averting your gaze. “Why would he like me, anyway? He has volleyball to put up with, and his grades are perfect. He doesn’t need a love interest entering his life.”

 The counsellor sighed, looking you dead in the eye. “The most important thing for a relationship to bloom is communication. If you can’t hold a conversation now, how is that supposed to help you in the future?”

 You hated it when important people had a point. “It gets worse when I’m near him.”

 “Just imagine you’re talking to a friend,” she said kindly, before proceeding to ask more questions.

 ***

You stepped into the class halfway through your fourth period. All heads turn to you as you lowered your head in embarrassment. Meekly passing the teacher a late slip, you took your seat behind Akaashi Keiji.

 You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything when class ended and everyone packed up to get ready for their next class. However, the first move had already been made.

 “Akaashi was asking about you,” Aneko said as you grabbed more books out of your locker.

 Your eyes widened, flickering to hers for a split second. “What did he say?”

 “He wanted to know if you were alright. I was getting worried too, y’know; you were in the counsellor’s office for a lot longer than I expected.”

 “She wouldn’t stop talking,” you said in a half-hearted explanation. You didn’t want to go into the details.

 “(L/N)-san, you went to the counsellor’s office?”

 You wanted to shrivel up and die. You didn’t prepare for this! What were you supposed to say now?

 Letting out a small breath, you turned around to face him. “Yeah, but I’m okay.”

 “Is your cough getting any better?” He asked gently, peering down at you with concern.

 “Yeah, I’m getting better,” you lied, praying for the little flower growing in your lungs to disappear in this short moment.

 He nodded, “I’m glad. Ah, and I photocopied my notes from the previous classes. They should cover the lessons.”

 You swallowed thickly, fighting the heat that clouded your cheeks. 

 You stuttered out a timid response. “Thank you…”

 He sent you a small smile before taking his seat. You felt sick all over again and coughed out some more petals. Aneko’s eyes watched you with concern as you faked a smile.

 “I’m okay. I don’t need to go to the bathroom for this,” you said, hoping to calm her nerves.

 “I’m taking you to the doctor’s after this, got it? Screw your parents, you need some medical advice,” she deadpanned, her tangerine eyes staring into yours and you can’t help the sigh that escaped your lips.

 “We’ll talk more after class,” you promised before sitting down and going over the notes Akaashi made for you. Your heart hammered in your chest as you read his kanji. Unsurprisingly, it was neat. But then again, what were you expecting from Akaashi Keiji? He seemed to be the type to take everything quite seriously.

 Ten minutes pass. Then twenty… thirty minutes later and you wonder to yourself, I didn’t cough once?

 ***

“How long did you say you had this disease for?” The doctor asked.

 “According to Google, around four months,” you answer, fiddling with your fingers.

 “Any particular reason you didn’t come with your parents?”

 “They had work.”

 Aneko hummed to confirm your statement. “She’s alone for most of the time. That’s why I am here to help!”

 “Right…” the doctor eyed her before turning back to you. “Have you talked to him?”

 “Why do people keep asking me that?” You mutter to yourself, digging your nails into the palms of your hands.

 The doctor let out an exasperated sigh. “Unless you can earn yourself an ungodly amount of money, the only thing you can do is hope to earn his affections. That or the flowers in your lungs will kill you.”

You knew that. The words seemed to fall on deaf ears because, hell, you knew that better than anyone in the room. Were you the only one with this disease? Everyone you talked to, everyone you confided in… they never seemed to have this disease. Your parents were in love with each other as soon as they met. The school counsellor has never been in love with anyone before. Aneko and her boyfriend have known each other since they were kids and fell in love relatively quickly while this doctor makes the Hanahaki Disease sound so simple. As if it was nothing more than just a small phase or bump in one’s life.

 Bull shit.

 You didn’t want this disease any more than the next person. Why? Because the disease hurt; it hurt a lot. The worst thing about it was the fact that there was no actual cure. The disease itself was kill or be killed; kill your feelings, or kill yourself. There was not an actual cure. Scientists didn’t know how the flower itself blossomed in one’s lungs. They didn’t know how to cure it.

 The worst part? The Hanahaki Disease claimed the lives of more people than traffic accidents and suicide combined. People weren’t necessarily scared of the disease. They were just… uneasy and you understood why.

 One thing was for certain though; the Hanahaki Disease was based on genetics. So somewhere along the line, one of your family members was affected by this particular disease. Of course, your parents probably never even thought about the possibility, so they probably didn’t test if you had the gene.

 Man, you really hated your parents sometimes.

 You left the doctor’s office silently, eyes downcast. Your knees trembled from below you and you felt as if you could collapse any minute now.

 “Aneko,” you murmured, stilling yourself and looking at her. “I didn’t cough when he was there.”

 She frowns, “What do you mean?”

 “When Akaashi was next to me, I didn’t cough a single petal. Not even once did I cough. I only did when class ended.” You showed her a weak smile before continuing. “It probably doesn’t mean anything though, does it?”

 “This is why you need to talk to him,” she said before stepping in front of you with her hands on her hips. “You’re dying, (Y/N). That isn’t something you should be taking lightly.”

 “I know,” you whispered, avoiding her eyes. “It’s not that easy you know. He has things to do and… he doesn’t need this right now.”

 She nodded, continuing to walk down the street. “I’m a pretty shitty friend, huh?”

 Your eyes widened, and you gape at her. 

 Quickening your pace to catch up to her, you glared. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 “I don’t know how you’re feeling right now. I’ve never been in your situation and I… what am I supposed to say to you?” Her voice is rising and you noticed that she had stopped walking altogether. “You’re always the one taking the shots and helping me. You’re the one who introduced me to Eito. You’re the one who stays up late to help me with the assignments I put off. You’re the one helping everyone with their problems. You’re always giving, (Y/N), you’re always the one who puts others in front of yourself!”

 Tears leaked out the sides of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.  You opened your mouth to say something but she cuts you off.

 “This is the one time you’re meant to be selfish. This is the one time you’re supposed to put yourself first. All you do is give! People –” she choked on her tears before saying – “people envy you, you know? I envy you! You’re usually so happy… you’re so willing to help others, even if they’ve done you so much wrong!” 

She wiped her tears with her arms, but they kept coming. “This – this is the one time you need help with something and I can’t even do anything!”

 She’s crying harder and all you can do is watch on. Fat tears dropped to the cemented ground as she wails louder. “Be selfish for once, (Y/N)! Please… I can’t lose you!”

 You’re crying now, too, but you don’t realise it until you taste the salty tears from the corner of your mouth. They spilled silently as you watch Aneko, your best friend, sob into the sleeves of her jumper . 

 If anyone was around, they would think that you were weirdos. Two random teenage girls crying their eyes out in the middle of the street wasn’t a natural occurrence. 

 You wipe your tears away with the back of your hand and offer her the most realistic smile you could muster. “Let’s head home, okay? We can binge that sports anime you’ve been meaning to watch.”

 She sniffs, the last of her tears splashing to the floor. “Okay.”

 *** 

You’re both late to school the next morning but you don’t really care. Aneko leaves at 5am to sneak into her house that was two blocks away from yours. You’re racing to gather your things so that you can do your homework in the bus. 

 After puking out another bucketful of rose petals in the bathroom, you’re bolting out the door to catch the bus. There were more places to sit now, and if this was any other circumstance, you would have sat as far away from Akaashi as you could. 

 ‘TALK TO HIM!’ You order yourself and you do before you could change your mind. 

 You pulled out your geography homework. From the corner of your eye, you note how Akaashi’s eyes do an onceover of your work. Trying to block him out, you began to answer the questions. 

 What metropolitan area is the largest in the world not bordering a body of water?

 What the heck? You blanched at the question. You don’t remember this being in the textbook! You screamed internally, and you have half a mind to pull out your phone to do some research. 

 “The answer is Johannesburg, South America,” a voice from beside you says helpfully. 

 You look up, your eyes are met with gentle navy eyes. Your cheeks burn as you look away. How is it possible to have such pretty eyes? 

 “Oh… thanks,” you mumble, and you let out a breath. “Hey, Akaashi?”

 His eyes widen and he clears his throat. “Yes? Is everything okay?”

 “Uh… thank you again for photocopying your notes! It was really nice of you! I would’ve gotten them from Aneko, but her handwriting is… questionable,” you laughed lightly, easing yourself into the conversation. “Thanks for caring, is all I’m trying to say.”

 The smallest of smiles makes its way onto his face and he looks at you with sincerity. “I’ll always care, you know?”

“Wait, really?” You blink twice at him, confusion swirling in your chest.  

 He nodded at you, looking out the window. “I care more than you think.”

 ***

The conversation replayed in your head over and over again, and you can’t help but stare dreamily out the window. When lunch began, Aneko snapped her fingers in your face, bringing you out of your daze. You flush, looking up at her as she grinned down at you.

 “So… what happened with Lover Boy over there?”

 “Nothing,” you wave her off, trying to ignore the blood that rushed to your cheeks. “We just… talked.”

 She wiggled her eyebrows at you teasingly. “So are you guys, like, together yet?”

 “It’s not that easy,” you mutter, raising an eyebrow at her. “Love doesn’t just appear, it builds over several conversations and it takes time.”

 “Not all the time; Eito and I had love at first sight,” she swooned lightly, and you rolled your eyes at her antics. “Anyway!” She exclaimed, slapping the table. “You have to talk to him more! You like him, right?”

 “Obviously,” you deadpanned, giving her a look of amusement.

 “Then go talk to him!”

 With that, she pulled you out of your chair and pushed you out of the room.

 You rolled your eyes, “That wasn’t very Plus Ultra of you.”

 “(L/N)-san?” 

 You spun around to face the person, a small smile on your face. “Hi, Akaashi-san! Yeah, Aneko threw me out of the classroom.”

 “Oh, I see,” he nodded in understanding.

 “AKAASHIII!”

 You jolted out of surprise, eyes widening when you see a third year look down at you.

 Akaashi let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Bokuto-san. What are you doing here?”

 “What’s wrong with seeing you? You’re annoyed of me, right?” A pout rested on his face, and you couldn’t help but question his strange hairstyle as you looked up at him.

 “Um… hello? You’re Bokuto Koutarou, right? The captain of the volleyball team?” You forced a friendly smile.

 “You must be (L/N) (Y/N)! Akaashi talks a lot about you!” He grinned at you with an owlish expression.

 You felt your cheeks tinge red. “Really?”

 “That’s enough, Bokuto-san. You’re scaring her,” Akaashi sighed before turning to you. “Ignore him. Do you want to watch our volleyball practice after school? You seem to be interested.”

 You flush pink. “I don’t want to be a bother…”

 “I invited you. It’ll be fine.” A small smile made its way onto his face. “I’ll take you after school.”

 You grinned, “Okay!”

 ***  

Aneko beamed at you, pinching your cheeks while she was at it. “Aw, (Y/N), I’m so proud!”

 You rolled your eyes, pushing her hands away from your face. “He invited me to watch his volleyball practice; it’s not that big of a deal.”

 “It is when you like him!” She cheered, the smile on her face widening. “You’re gonna cure that dumb disease and you’re gonna get a hot boyfriend. I rate that ten out of ten.”

 You don’t respond, instead finding your phone much more interesting.

 “Huh? What are you doing? (Y/N)…” You could practically hear the pout in Aneko’s voice.

 You moved your hand away, blocking the screen so that she couldn’t see who you were texting. “I’m not doing anything.”

 “Then show me!” She whined, before a sly smirk rested on her lips. “Oh, I see. You’re texting Akaashi, right?”

 “What makes you think that?” You flushed, looking away from her.

 Aneko grinned, patting your head in jest. “Have fun with him, (Y/N)! Don’t forget me, alright?”

 You couldn’t help but laugh, knocking her hand once more. “Alright, alright. Now go away, Eito is waiting for you.”

 She nodded, brushing her mousey brown hair out of her face. “Text me tonight, yeah?”

 You hummed in agreement before turning back to your phone.

 “(Y/N)-san,” a voice called out, and you felt your cheeks redden.

 You let out a breath before smiling up at the setter. “You don’t have to add honorifics, Akaashi-san. We’re friends, right?”

 “Then call me Keiji,” he offered, looking down at you.

 “Keiji,” you said slowly before nodding. “Then call me (Y/N).”

 “I’ve always liked your name,” he remarked nonchalantly. “Come on, we have to get to the gym, okay?”

 With a slight skip in your step, you followed him to the Gym 03. He slid the door open, revealing multiple yellow and blue balls flying over volleyball nets. They flew from all directions, and stray balls seemed to be more dangerous than the actual people. The people in the volleyball team were tall, big, and intimidating. You couldn’t help the little shiver that crept up your spine.

 You felt a hand rest on your shoulder and you looked up at Akaashi. He sent a reassuring smile your way.

 “They’re not as scary as they look,” he promised, taking you up to the high rises. “They’re a bunch of babies when you get to know them.”

 You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your mouth. “I’ll take your word for it, then.”

 Watching from above, you noticed the way everyone on the team worked together; how they cheered each other on and the way they dealt with Bokuto… everyone was a lot friendlier than you thought they were.

 But all the peace and happiness you held was cut short as your stomach lurched and you felt your heart thunder in your chest. Your lungs suddenly started wheezing for air and you stumbled down the stairs. Trying your best to open the gym door as inconspicuously as possible, you bolted to the nearest bathroom to empty your lungs.

 You gasped for air, coughing wildly as petals spilled out of your mouth and onto the walkway. Droplets of blood fell into the palms of your hands before inking the ground. Thorns tumbled out of your mouth, scratching and wounding your throat as you staggered to the bathroom, the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth and taking over your senses. Your left hand leaned against the side of the gym, and you tried your best to stabilize yourself, but trying seemed to be futile.

 Sobbing from the pain, you fell to your knees as petals and rose buds fell out of your mouth. God, this could not be happening right now.  

 Breathing heavily, you furiously wiped the tears and sweat off your face. You looked around you at the mess of blood, flowers, and thorns. You stared at the dark green thorns that scattered around you, and you couldn’t help but feel another wave of dread wash over you. Why…? Why was the disease getting worse? You thought that everything was getting better; Akaashi was talking to you more and you were making so much progress with him as well! So why was it getting worse?

 You sucked in a breath, trying to regulate your breathing as you wiped your tears away. Your lungs burned in your chest as you got up from the ground, trying your best to clean the mess you made.  Somehow managing to make it look like someone didn’t commit murder with a bouquet of flowers, you made your way back to the gym.

 Forcing a smile, you slid the gym door open. All eyes turned to you and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks.

 “Um… I had to go to the bathroom,” you said shakily, avoiding any and all eye contact.

 “You were gone for a while,” Akaashi noted, “are you feeling alright?”

 “Yeah, I just needed to get some air, y’know?” You faked a laugh before waving him off. “I’m fine, really. Go back to practice, Keiji.”

 He nodded silently, glancing back at you for a split second.

 “AKAASHIII! It’s your serve!” Bokuto exclaimed. “NICE SERVE!”

 Picking up the ball, Akaashi let his eyes wander to you as you sat at the high rises. He felt his heart tug in his chest as he threw up the ball to serve.

 Don’t lie to me.

 *** 

Practice ended a while later, and you had done your best to not gawk at your long-time crush. Sure, you have seen his games before, but that was live on a screen. This was different. Here you could feel the thud of the balls as they hit the floor violently, and you could feel the heat and exhaustion leaking off the players; you don’t feel that kind of thing through a screen. 

 “Thank you for letting me watch your practice,” you said, bowing respectfully at the coach and the two managers. 

 They smiled, and the coach replied, “You’re welcome back any time.”

 “(Y/N), I can walk you to the bus stop if you would like?”

 You felt yourself panic internally as you stood in front of the open door. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was but you do anyway.

 Opening your mouth to say ‘no’, you found that the only word that escaped your voice box was, “Sure.”

 “I’ll change first, and then we can go.”

 You answered with a slight nod, and the pain you felt just moments ago filled your thoughts. Shaking the feeling off, you waited by the gym doors.

 “So, you and Akaashi?”

 You felt your heart leap to your throat as you spun around to face the person. It was Suzumeda Kaori, one of the team managers on the volleyball team. She smirked at you, sending you a knowing look.

 “We’re just friends,” you said bashfully, but on the inside you wished that what she said was true.

 She didn’t believe you for a second, “Really?” She asked drily, the smirk on her face widening by a second. “So… you don’t like him?”

 “I… never said that,” you said under your breath, and you felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment. “We’re just friends though. I doubt he even knew I existed until a few weeks ago.”

 “Huh,” she remarked, before picking up a stray volleyball. “Whatever you say, (L/N)-chan.”

 “(Y/N), are you ready?” Another voice cut in, and you nodded your answer to the question.

 The walk to the bus stop was calm as the cherry blossoms fell and drifted over the two of you. It was nice, to say the least. Every so often, you found yourself glancing at the setter through the corner of your eye before forcing your gaze to  turn back to the path. You groaned internally. You were falling harder, and the fact that you practically had a ticking time bomb planted in your lungs wasn’t helping.

 “I’ve noticed you and Bokuto are really close. When did you meet?” You cringed slightly at the poor excuse of a conversation starter, but he didn’t seem to mind.

 “I met him last year when I first went to the club. He said that my tosses were good,” he smiled slightly at the memory, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

 “That’s pretty cool. He’s really loud, so I was surprised when I found out you were both friends.” You let out a small laugh.

 He nodded in understanding, “I get that a lot. He’s not that bad when you get to know him. When I introduced you, you looked pretty intimidated.”

 “I was… surprised. He’s really loud and he’s quite the character.”

 “He’s a good guy; and he’s reliable.”

 “I’ll take your word for it.”

 Silence is the only thing that followed as you waited at the bus stop. Akaashi had taken sudden interest in his shoes, and you were trying to wrack your brain for a conversation starter.

 “I forgot to ask,” he said, cutting the silence. “Are you feeling any better?”

 You blinked at him, clueless for a moment before it dawned on you. “Oh, yeah, I told you I was fine, didn’t I?” You shot him a reassuring smile. “I was just feeling light headed in the gym. It was really warm.”

 “Ah, right, that makes sense. I’m glad you’re feeling okay, (Y/N).”

 Why was he able to make something as simple as your name sound nice? Blood rushed to your cheeks as the bus pulled to a stop, and the both of you took a seat. Cheeks still flushed red, you focused your vision on the window. There were a few scratch marks here and there, and you watched as the cars drove past. Red car, blue car, black car, black car, white ca-

 “Are you hungry?” A calm voice questioned from beside you.

 You opened your mouth to answer, but you didn’t need to.

 Your stomach growled at the mention of food. 

 Keiji chuckled softly before handing you a curry bun. “Here.”

 You eyed it warily, “Do you have one? I don’t want to eat your lunch or anything… and you’re the one who was doing the physical activity.”

 “I have one right here,” he said, pulling out an identical bun. “Have it.”

 You hesitated, but took it gratefully, taking small nibbles. “Thanks.”

  The rest of the bus ride was relatively quiet, the both of you having small snippets of conversation throughout the ride. The bus lurched to a stop, and you glanced outside the window to check what stop you were at.

 “Ah, this is my stop, Keiji. Thank you for accompanying me; it was really nice of you.” You grinned, showing a clumsy bow before picking up your bag. “Thanks for the food as well!”

 “You don’t have to thank me, (Y/N). I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” He smiled gently.

 With a final wave, you stepped off the bus before making your way to your house, cheeks warm and a goofy smile on your face.

 Meanwhile, Akaashi sat in the bus, staring wistfully out the window. With a final sigh, he picked up his phone and clicked ‘call’ on a particular contact.

 “Bokuto-san. I need your help.”

***

You returned to school the next day, expecting for the day to be the same as every other one but when you stepped into the classroom, you found a strange biological piece of matter on your table.

 A single blue rose with all the thorns cut off on your desk. It was just… sitting there. You suddenly felt sick. Who the hell confesses to someone with a blue rose? Albeit, it was a very pretty flower, but it wasn’t something one would confess with. That is, if this one was a confession. What happened to the red and white roses at the flower shop? It was nowhere near Valentine’s Day or White Day, so there shouldn’t be a shortage of supply.

 The only conclusion you could make was the fact that someone knew about your disease. Someone must have seen you. Your stomach churned with anxiety as you picked up the rose. There wasn’t a note to go with it, so there was no way for you to find out who delivered it to you. Then again, the rose might not have been for you.

 “Ooh, Whatcha got there?”

 You yelped at the sound of your best friend’s voice, nearly dropping the flower in your hands.

 “Don’t creep up on me,” you grumbled, shooting a glare at her.

 Aneko grinned, plucking the rose from your hands. “What’s this? From a secret admirer, maybe?”

 “I think someone knows,” you said abruptly, crossing your arms over your chest. “Did you tell anyone?”

 “What? You know I don’t talk to anyone but you and Eito and I didn’t mention anything to him.” She frowned, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe Akaashi knows?”

 “Why would he know?”

 “He invited you yesterday to watch practice. You did say that you had a coughing fit right?” A sly smirk made its way onto her face. “Maybe he got worried when you left the gym and followed you.”

 You let out a sigh as you took a seat at your desk. Resting your chin on the palm of your hand, you looked at her expectantly. “He wouldn’t like me; he probably just thinks of me as a friend.”

 Bending down to reach eye level with you, she flicked your forehead, and you yelped in pain. “Stop being a baby and tell him.”

 “It’s not that easy!” You countered, rubbing the area she flicked. “I can’t just magically make the disease go away by confessing. He has to like me too!”

 “You’re not making it any easier,” Aneko pointed out.

 You shot her a fiery look, hitting the top of her head with a maths textbook. “Shut up, Aneko.”

 She pouted at you before taking her seat. Akaashi entered the classroom moments later, taking his usual seat in front of you. You felt your heart hammer within your chest as you stared at his usual unruly mop of black hair.

 You did your best to focus on the task at hand. However, trying to focus on a class you had zero interest in was becoming a problem. Staring at your very blank page of paper, you were very close to screaming. What was the lesson on again? Was this maths or geography?

 “Ah, (Y/N), Eito wanted to talk to me about something. I’ll see you later!” Aneko exclaimed, and you brought yourself out of your reverie.

 “Wait what?” You glanced around, but the classroom was pretty much empty. 

“Wait, Aneko-”

But she was already out the door. You groaned, hitting your forehead against your table in frustration.

 “I really should have paid attention,” you muttered to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut.

 A small shuffling sound next to you snapped you out of your daydream and you looked up at the person.

 “Keiji?” You couldn’t bring yourself to say another thing, your mouth opening and closing as you thought of what to say.

 “You seemed to have trouble with the lesson,” he said gently, holding a book out to you.

 You blinked at it warily before gingerly taking it. “You don’t have to do all this for me. And… how did you know that I couldn’t concentrate?”

 “Aneko,” he responded, looking at you intently. “You can borrow my notes.”

 You watched as his eyes wandered to the rose that was on your lap and you felt your cheeks burn. “Ah, this is nothing! It was on my desk and I guess someone put it there. I don’t know who, but-”

 “Do you like it?” He asked, his eyes ghosting over your face.

 “Yeah… it’s a shame it probably isn’t meant for me, though.” You offer a shy smile.

 He nodded briskly before patting your shoulder. “Do you want to watch practice again today?”

 “Really?”

 “Why not? It gave everyone else motivation and you enjoyed it, right?”

 “Yeah, I did! It was really cool watching everyone work together like that; your tosses were amazing! It seemed to get the whole team to bond. You’re really focused on the court. I guess you have to be when you’re the control centre of the team.” You shut your mouth abruptly, and your cheeks reddened even further. “Sorry, I’m rambling aren’t I?”

 “I don’t mind,” he said tenderly, a strange fondness on his features. “We’ll go to the gym together at the end of the day.”

 You beamed. “I look forward to it!”

 ***

The rest of the day goes smoothly. Well, as smooth as it could be. Halfway in your third period, you choked on a thorn and had to be excused for a full half-hour before returning to the class. For most people in the class, you were either faking to skip class or you were genuinely sick. Strangely enough, your teachers seemed to understand  your situation and didn’t question when you left the class randomly.

 Wonderful, you thought to yourself for the umpteenth time as all heads turned to you when you had returned to class, I’m absolutely pathetic.

 You could still taste blood when you walked with Keiji to the gym, but holy shit, you wished that this could end.

 And you realised that maybe it would end; very, very soon.

 “Akaashi-kun!” A high pitched voice rang in your ears and you flinched slightly.

 You and Keiji were just about to leave the school when a girl with bouncy yellow curls pushed her way between the two of you. You blinked, confused and rather insulted as you stumbled backwards, watching the girl cling onto Akaashi’s arm. You watched as his jaw clenched in agitation.

 “Can I talk to you?” The girl asked with a sickeningly sweet smile as she side-glanced you before hissing, “Alone.”

 He nodded wordlessly as he followed the girl.

 You were no stalker; you were no eavesdropper either. Looking up at their retreating figures, you tried to find a reason as to why you should stay put. Your lovesick brain didn’t have a good enough reason.

 “Akaashi-san, I like you!”

 You choked as you clapped a hand over your mouth when you heard her high-pitched voice screech a confession.

 “Thank you, but I like someone else,” Keiji’s monotone voice said, and you let out a breath of relief.

 That was good, right? Maybe it was you! Or maybe it won’t be. You groan inwardly, steeling yourself as you listened to their conversation.

 “I’m sure I can be better than her!” The girl exclaimed and you rolled your eyes.

 “I’m sorry, but I like her very much.”

 Oh. You slowly made your way back to where Akaashi had left you, thoughts running through your mind. How were you supposed to compete against her? 

 Moments later, Akaashi returned to your side, hands stuffed in his volleyball jacket. 

 “Did you wait long?” 

 “No, not really. The bus is coming, we should go.”

 He nodded, wordlessly walking beside you. The silence that followed was, to say the least, awkward. You had a feeling he knew you were listening in to his conversation, and he knew you were uneasy about the entire situation. Tugging nervously at your bag strap, you couldn’t help the glances you sent from the corners of your eyes. 

 “Hey, Keiji,” you interrupted the silence and he turned to you, eyebrows raised as a signal to continue. “Uh… do you want my number? You can tell me when you have practice so I can bring extra food.”

  “I don’t mind bringing you food, (Y/N),” he said, but a small smile was etched on his face. “I’ll give you my number, too then.”

 And so, numbers were exchanged and the apples of your cheeks were flushed in happiness. That was progress, right?

 The bus pulled to a stop, and you hopped up from your seat. “Thanks for walking me to the bus again. See you tomorrow!”

 Dropping your bag to the floor, you slumped onto your bed, a small yawn slipping from your mouth. 

 From: Akaashi Keiji 

Did you make it inside safely?

 You grinned at your phone, quickly typing in a response.

                                                                                                    To: Akaashi Keiji

                                                                                                                        Yep! 

                                                                                                    To: Akaashi Keiji

                                                        Thanks again for letting me come to practice!

 From: Akaashi Keiji

Do you want to come to practice tomorrow?

 You couldn’t hold back your squeal.

 *** 

Three weeks passed in a blink of an eye and your friendships with the volleyball team grew. Aneko was still going out with Eito, and that would mark their second year of dating. Unsurprisingly, they dragged you into their two year anniversary, so you were forced to third wheel with them. That was when Aneko found out that you and Akaashi were texting a lot. She gave you hell for it.

 “Four weeks,” Aneko remarked suddenly, crossing her legs as she rested against your bed.

 You glanced up from your homework, “What do you mean?”

 “You have exactly four months to live.” Hugging the pillow in her arms tighter, she looked up at you. “What are you gonna do about it?”

 “What am I supposed to do about it?” You mutter, spinning your chair around to face her. “I’ve done everything I could.”

 “But you haven’t even told him yet!” She countered, clenching her fists.

 “I don’t have to tell him anymore! He…” You trailed off, recalling the words he spoke a few weeks prior. 

                                                   “I like her very much.”

 His words carwled back into your mind and you managed a wry smile. “He said he liked someone. That’s all I heard.”

 “How do you know she isn’t you?” Jumping up from the floor, she shot you a pointed look. “Tell him you like him. There’s no point in both of you liking each other and not acknowledging it by confessing.” 

 “But what if it isn’t me? I’ll ruin a perfectly good friendship,” you argued, folding your arms over your chest as you reciprocated the look.

 She groaned, grabbing hold of your shoulders. “Then he doesn’t deserve you. You have to tell him! The whole story!”

 “No promises,” you laughed, shaking her hands off of you. “Get off!”

 She rolled her eyes, the smile seemingly stuck on her face. “I’m really happy for you, (Y/N).”

 “Thanks, Aneko,” you grinned up at her, “You’ve always supported me with everything.”

 “Then support me with a meal!”

 “Fine.”

 *** 

 Fortunately for you and Aneko, Akaashi had invited you to his usual Wednesday practice with the volleyball team. The whole team treated you like an extra manager, asking you to bring refills if they really needed it. Despite knowing that there were already two managers, you were perfectly happy with helping them out while you could. However, while the team was fine with you joining practice upon invitation, people seemed to take their enthusiasm for you being there an invitation in itself.

 One of those people just happened to be Etsudo Emiko, the blonde girl who confessed to Keiji a few weeks ago. After he plainly rejected her the first time, she decided to take it upon herself to barge into the after school volleyball training. Unfortunately, when the other managers complained about her being a distraction to the team, Etsudo brought up the fact that you were allowed to watch the practices freely. As much as the coach wanted to take their side, he knew that the only way to get rid of Etsudo was to stop allowing you to attend the practices. The problem was, while Etsudo did virtually nothing to help the team, you motivated the team in multiple ways. 

 Nevertheless, Etsudo was allowed to attend the volleyball practices if she didn’t bring anyone else to which she swiftly agreed. Hence, the three weeks of patience testing began.

 “Keiji! You did so good!” Etsudo’s high pitched voice reverberated through the gym.

 The rest of the team let out quiet groans as the girl ran down the stairs to latch onto the setter’s arm. He let out a frustrated sigh, tugging his arm away from her. Not relinquishing, she trailed after him, completely unabashed.

 “Am I the only one who hates her?” Kaori asked, her nose scrunching in disgust as she pumped a volleyball with more air. “You’re the one who likes Akaashi. I’m surprised you can even stand to be in the same room as her.”

 “She’s totally annoying,” Shirofuku Yukie, the other manager, remarked. “The whole team knows that there’s something going on between you and Akaashi.”

 You managed a small smile, “There’s nothing going on between Keiji and me. He probably doesn’t even like me that way.”

 The both gave you a piercing look. “Are you stupid?” They asked together. 

 You don’t respond, eyes trailing back to Keiji. Etsudo was still clinging onto him, pouting up at him with her big green eyes. 

 A small cough erupted from your throat, and a lone petal found its way into the palm of your hand. 

 “I have to go to the bathroom,” you said awkwardly, dropping the ball you were holding to the floor. 

 “Are you-” 

 “I’m fine,” you responded by default, “I’ll be back in ten.”

 With that, you ran out of the gym, a hand over your mouth as more petals dared to fall. 

 Why was the bathroom so far away? 

 You gasped for air as petals and thorns spilled to the ground, your tears following after them. Blue rose buds stained with blood escaped your throat as the metallic taste filled your mouth as dark red thorns scraped the delicate skin. The pads of your fingers dig into the red brick wall, the skin scratching as you dropped to your knees.

 Despite the obvious pain and the salty tears that streaked down your cheeks, you couldn’t help the sarcastic laugh that you let out. 

 “Déjà vu really is the worst.”

 A violent cough erupted once more, and you inhaled a shaky breath as more petals drifted to the concrete floor. As they did, the gentle patting of footsteps distracted you for a moment before the footsteps stopped directly beside you. Panic rose inside your chest. You needed an explanation! 

 While you wracked your brain for an excuse, a hand rested in the middle of your back. 

 “Breathe, (Y/N),” a gentle voice whispered. 

 If you died now, would Aneko kill you? 

 … Probably.

 Your coughing died down after several minutes, and you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

 “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, eyes trained to the mess in front of you. 

 “What are you sorry for?” Akaashi questioned, crouching down to be level with you. 

 “I’m disturbing practice, aren’t I? What’s Bokuto gonna do without you?” You shot a teasing smile at him, but it didn’t quite meet your eyes. 

 Keiji sighed at your answer. “Don’t answer with another question, (Y/N).”

 “Sorry,” you said automatically, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

 “Who is it?”

 “What?” You stuttered out a response, looking up at him for a second.

 “Who is it?” He repeated, his gunmetal eyes boring into yours.

 “Why do you want to know?” You asked, getting up from the ground to gather your mess. “It’s not important, anyway.”

 He was silent as he rose to his full 6 feet form looming over you. “Not important?” He repeated, mostly to himself than to you. “How can you say that about yourself?”

 “Well I’m obviously not lying,” you countered, pointing to the floral monstrosity at your feet.

 The muscles in his jaw tightened, and you noticed the way played with his fingers. He was worried – nervous, maybe. “You can die from this. I’m not as oblivious as you think I am.”

 A sarcastic laugh erupts from your throat, but it comes out more as a strangled chuckle. “Sure, Akaashi. Whatever you want to believe.”

 The look on his face darkens, and you avert your eyes from his. When was the last time you used his last name? His watchful eyes glanced over your face, trying to read your emotions. If he could read Bokuto, he would be able to read you, right?

 Absolutely.

 “I know you’re scared, (Y/N). You need help to get better.”

 “Do I, though?” The eye roll you pulled off had you feeling a little guilty, but at this point you were done with everything. “I don’t need to get better.”

 “Why do you keep saying that?” He demanded, the tension in the air growing thicker by the second.

 “Maybe because it’s true!”

 “I’m saying it’s not!”

 He let out a frustrated grunt, eyes shutting for a moment as he thought of what to say. “You mean a lot to everyone.”

 You scoff, “really?”

 “Have you thought about Aneko-san, your parents, the team? What about-” He stops short, shutting his jaw closed as he averted his gaze.

 “What about what?” You ask tentatively, your eyes still fixated on the mess in front of you.

 “… Me.”

 Your eyes flickered to him, the slight hunch of his shoulders as he stood.

 “Have you…” A forced smile made its way onto your face. “Have you considered the possibility that he might be you?”

 The silence that followed seemed to taunt you and you berated yourself internally. Did you hear wrong? Did he say something else? Maybe you were mistaken.

 In split seconds, you felt a pair of gentle arms surround you, wrapping you in warm embrace. You had the slight temptation to laugh – were you in some shoujo manga or something? But instead, you return the hug, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

 “I really like you, Keiji.”

 “… I really like you too.” 

***

~The End~

​Copyright Disclaimer:

All characters except for the reader and my OC’s (listed below) are the work of Haruichi Furudate (古館春一). This is not part of the canon work by any means. I do not claim ownership over the characters or the Haikyuu storyline and plot. Without Furudate Sensei’s work, myself as well as many other writers are unable to create these stories.

 My OC’s:

Fukuhara Aneko(福原あねこ)

Hasegawa Sakura (長谷川さくら)

Emiko Etsudo (えつどうえみこ)

[yikeswtfmate]

Meet me in the Hallway

Summary: Y/N and Bucky have hated each other since they were children and now they’re forced to live together, whether they like it or not.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Warnings: swearing; sexual themes

A/N: ...and they were roommates! I’m not going to pass up a chance of putting my spin on this trope, come on, I’m weak! Full disclosure: I was so excited about this idea that I’ve just spent the last 4 hours writing it without pause

masterlist

Bucky sometimes wants to punch Steve in the face. Either that, or maybe punch himself in the face just to save himself from having to live with the two Rogers cousins one more day. He doesn’t mind Steve. After years of living together through college he’s used to all of his habits, including those that are borderline neurotic – like how all the plates have to be stacked according to colour, and not just dump them one over the other. He does mind Y/N, however, although he’s known her for just as much time he’s known his best friend. The only problem is that, where he can forgive any of Steve’s misgivings, Y/N just simply pisses him off. So when Steve came home one day and announced without any kind of heads up that Y/N will be moving in the spare bedroom that they’ve been using as an office of sorts until now, his first thought was to bang his head against the wall until he’d lose consciousness.

Steve was suspiciously silent when Bucky tried to get something more out of him, like ‘why’ or ‘I thought she was living with her boyfriend’ and ‘buy why, Steve’ and even ‘can’t you just send her to stay with Sam and let me live in peace.’

“Just for this year, until she’s done with her residency.” Is all that Steve offers as an explanation.

It was many months later, when Steve was staying over at Peggy’s, when Bucky found Y/N home crying her eyes out when he got all the answers. Apparently, her boyfriend of 4 years was cheating on her (“Didn’t I tell you from the start that he’s a fucking idiot?” which earned him a scowl) so she had to move out from their shared apartment (“I’ve left all my books there, Bucky, I’ve been collecting those books for ever and the asshole just threw them out the next day!” which earned her a shake of his head). She knew from the start that she won’t be able to afford living by herself (“Do you know how much rent is in New York? God fucking dammit, some days I just wanted to stab my eyes with the scalpels” which earned her a nod of agreement) and going back to her parents was definitely not on the table (“I’d actually stab myself to death with those scalpels than having to live with my parents ever again” which earned her a smack over her head), so she had to ask Steve, “the only functioning human being I actually know who’s our age” if he’ll take her in “like a fucking baby.”

They ended up finishing an entire bottle of whiskey that night and the next morning Y/N was sleeping in his bed, her naked skin barely covered by his blanket. Bucky’s first reaction was to let out an incredulous groan, unable to process his reasoning for sleeping with her. As great as the sex had been, they were never a fan of each other, ever since Bucky used to pull her hair and push her in the sand when they were 8. Growing older, that dislike slowly shifted to pure hatred, and those months that they’ve been living under the same roof were proof that they would most likely murder each other before seeing eye to eye on literally anything.

So Bucky hauled his ass out of the apartment as soon as possible, hoping to all that’s mighty she would just take the hint and get the hell out of his bed by the time he’d come back home. Thankfully she did, and they didn’t speak a word of that night until it happened again a month later when Y/N nearly knocked his door down one night because his music wouldn’t let her sleep. The next time it happened, Bucky crawled into her bed at midnight after a particularly bad date, without giving it much thought. After that, it just became routine that they’d find themselves in the other’s bed whenever there would be a bad day at work, lack of sleep, a heated fight that neither wanted to lose, once even just because Bucky came back from the gym all sweaty and annoyed, and two times because she would insist on walking around the apartment in the tiniest shorts that he’d ever seen in his entire goddamn life. Neither of them wanted to think too much about it, justifying it as a means to an end, and as much as they would be attracted to each other, Bucky once famously said that he’d rather marry Sam than bury the hatchet with Y/N, just because “she’s so fucking annoying!”

*

“Where is that dunce anyway?” Y/N asks. “I thought he said he wanted to see this movie as well.”

She hands Steve a bottle of beer and takes her seat on the sofa. Peggy raises an eyebrow in a silent question that Y/N chooses to ignore, and Steve shrugs before popping some popcorn in his mouth.

“Said he had a date.”

Y/N can’t help gritting her teeth in annoyance. She absolutely refuses to think of Bucky as more than an easy lay, but she is human after all, and she’d rather him have a love life as miserable as hers. It’s not fair he gets to try his luck at finding the love of his life, while he’s getting his fix with her whenever he pleases in the meantime.

Steve nudges her shin with his foot from over his armchair, startling her out of her thoughts. Looking up at him, she notices the worry on his face. This boy knows her too well for her to have a semblance of privacy, goddammit. It’s a miracle he hasn’t figured out what’s been going on behind his back, although she has a feeling that’s just because Peggy is too much of an angel to shed some light on the situation.

“What’s wrong?” He demands.

“Nothing. Let’s just watch the stupid movie.” Y/N mutters.

“Nuh-uh.” Steve insists. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Y/N sighs and although Peggy tries to divert his attention, she knows there’s no way in hell she’ll get out of it now. He watches her determinedly, waiting for an honest answer. He’s not stupid and he’s noticed something’s been different with the dynamic between his cousin and his best friend lately. He’s seen how tense Y/N gets whenever Bucky touches her waist when he passes her, which is weird in and of itself considering they would flat out refuse to be in the same room together at first. He can also distinctly remember Y/N wearing one of Bucky’s sweaters when he found her asleep in front of the tv one night. Then it suddenly clicks.

“You’ve been sleeping together!” He shouts accusingly.

Y/N’s eyes widen in shock and she is suddenly feeling very warm. Peggy sighs and mutters something that sounds oddly like “no shit, Sherlock” under her breath. Steve crosses his arms, but his expression turns from incredulous to worried again.

“Oh shit, you’ve been sleeping together.” Then onwards to furious: “And the asshole is on a date right now?” And then wary: “Are you ok with this?” And finally confused: “Why are you ok with this?”

“Look, Stevie.” Y/N starts with a sigh. “It’s not like I have a choice. We’ve never talked about us being more than…fuck buddies, I guess you’d call it.” She says irritated. “We’re fine like this, we both get what we want out of it without any kind of responsibility. It’s neither here nor there if I’m ok with it in the end because Bucky hates me.”

“Y/N, we’ve talked about this.” Peggy tries but she’s cut off with a shake of the head.

“No, Peg. I know he does. Steve can tell you. He’s hated me ever since we were children. To be fair, I couldn’t stand him either, but now I just…” There’s a split second of silence before Y/N’s eyes seem to bulge out of her skull. She plants her hands on either side of her face and shakes her head as if trying to pry the thought out of her head. “Fuck.”

Peggy scoots closer and puts her arm over Y/N’s shoulders. “Oh, Y/N.” She says with a sympathetic smile.

“This is a mess. I’m going to call him and tell him to come home.” Steve announces, his phone already in his hand.

“Don’t, Steve. He doesn’t owe me anything. I’ve never asked anything more of him and he never offered. Just leave it at that. I’ll get over it. Don’t worry about me.” She gets up and hands Peggy the bowl of popcorn she was holding. “I’m tired. I’m just going to call it a night if you don’t mind. I’ll see you tomorrow at work, Peg.” She makes her way to her room in silence, but they both notice the tears that start to form in her eyes.

Steve turns to his girlfriend, his face still trying to decide between worry and anger. “I’m going to kill Bucky.”

“No, you won’t, sweetheart. They’re adults and this is their problem. They have to sort it out themselves.”

*

The next morning Bucky is woken up by what must be the entire population of velociraptors brought back to life in the living room. He looks at his phone, which mockingly informs him that it’s only 3:57 am. He tries going back to sleep, but he finds it nearly impossible now that mammoths apparently joined the dinosaurs.

He groans and gets out of the bed, ready to unleash hell on whoever decided it’s a great idea to wake him up at fuck o’clock on a Saturday. He can barely distinguish Y/N’s form in the shadows of the hallways, throwing a big lump of…something over her shoulder as she rummages through the shoe rack.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He demands.

“Looking for my running shoes.” She replies deadpan. “I left them here yesterday but someone thought they should just bury them with their own shit.”

“Why the fuck are you going for a run now?”

“I always go for a run in the morning.” She seems to have found one of the shoes and proceeds to throw a boot over her head, barely missing Bucky’s arm in the process.

“It’s 4 o’clock. You usually go for a run at 6. Why are you running at 4?! It’s still dark outside! You can’t go running now, who knows who the fuck is out there.”

“Well, I couldn’t sleep so might as well be productive.” She shrugs.

“Y/N, come back to bed. You don’t have to be up for another 2 hours. Come on.” Bucky slides a hand around her waist, making her stand straight, her back to his chest. “I can make you go to sleep, baby.” He whispers in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

“No, Bucky.” She disentangles from his embrace and tries to push him away with a shove that is too weak to be believable. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what? Sleep?” Bucky laughs and has another try at grabbing her, but she just backs up from him until she hits the sofa, sitting down with a sigh.

“No, Bucky. I can’t do this.” Y/N shakes her hand in the space between them, and Bucky is suddenly wide awake, although refusing to understand what she’s trying to say.

“What do you mean you can’t do this anymore? Did you find someone else? Do I not make you feel good anymore?” He demands.

“It doesn’t matter.” She mutters.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Of course, it matters!” A small voice in his head draws his attention to the fact that he’s now shouting, but he can’t really bring himself to give a shit if he wakes up Steve or their neighbours at this point. “Did you find someone else? Is that it?”

“No, Bucky, I didn’t find anyone else, you fucking asshole.” Y/N spits, already fed up with having to justify herself for the past few days. “I can’t do this anymore because I can’t find someone else. And you wanna know why? Because there’s always someone in the back of my head who I keep coming back to, whatever the fuck I’m doing. The whole cheating shit with my ex? It was because I couldn’t give him what he needed, I couldn’t love him the way I should’ve because there was always this fucking idiot in the back of my head pulling my fucking hair and I’ve now just realised it. And you know what the best part is?” There are tears streaming down Y/N’s face and Bucky can’t do anything more than watch her, confused and suddenly jealous of this guy she’s going on about.

“The best part is that I thought I hated you. I thought you were the bane of my fucking existence, just to have it turn out I didn’t hate you at all. I’ve been in love with you my whole entire fucking life. It’s you, Bucky. It has always been you.”

Y/N can’t move, all she can do is watch how the sunrise light starts pooling in the living room. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears, blood draining from her face, as Bucky just stands there, as catatonic as she is. There’s a grunt and suddenly Bucky is kneeling between her legs, his arms circling her body. He presses a kiss to the side of her left knee and then one to the inside of her wrist. He’s never been this delicate, fingers dancing on the small of her back, his hair falling in his eyes as he looks up at her.

“I’ve never loved anyone more than I love you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realise it.” He whispers.

Y/N leans down to place a soft kiss to his lips, as his hands come up to hold her wet cheeks. So this is what this all meant, he thinks, pressing his forehead to hers.

In the other room, Steve closes the door silently and climbs back to bed with a huff.

“Fucking idiots.” He mutters in Peggy’s hair.

“Told you they’ll come around.”

***

Taglist:

@myboyfriendgiriboy​

[sarah-writes-stories]

For You

A Fluffy InuKag AU One-shot in honour of Valentine’s Day.

Written to participate in Inuyasha Valentine’s Day 2020. 2088 words.

@inuyasha-valentines​

They were mocking him.

Each and every one of those tiny fucking chocolates in that disgustingly cute square box.

They were just sitting there… taunting him… and he hated it.

Inuyasha had stopped listened to their history teacher’s lecture on the Sengoku period the second he’d realized that Kagome had every intention of giving someone in their class a box of fancy honmei choco for Valentine’s Day.* It was all he could do to stop himself from stomping over there, snatching them up, and hurling them out of the closest window.

He sighed in disgust but let his glare fade some as he looked up from the small square box to the girl whose desk the chocolates sat upon. His mind drifted back to the day they’d met… Their first day of high school.

He’d walked into class alongside Miroku, the two of them laughing and shoving and totally oblivious to the fact that his entire world was about to change forever.

It took less than a second for his eyes to lock with hers. 

Kagome.

It was her. He would recognize her anywhere.

It had stopped him dead in his tracks, youki surging, as though the blood in his veins had suddenly turned electric. For a moment he’d wondered if she could feel the same thing he felt, but she was human, it wasn’t possible. Still, he’d felt her reiki pulse in response to his youki.

She’s a Miko, he thought.

And she was beautiful. Midnight black hair that fell to her waist and wide caramel-coloured eyes that had stared back at him as though they were the only two people in the room.

That is, until Mr. Mizushima had cleared his throat rather loudly, bringing Inuyasha’s attention to the fact that he was standing alone in the middle of the classroom, everyone else having already taken their seats only to stare at him like he was even more of a freak than being a hanyou already made him.

And so, when he’d arrived home after school that day panicking to his parents that his truemate was in his class, his father had tried to convince him that finding his truemate so young was a good thing. That he was lucky.

Yeah right.

There are some youkai and hanyou who went their entire lives without ever finding the one soul meant for them, he’d said.

You can wait three more years, he’d said.

Fuck.

Because there were rules about these things, especially when your truemate was a human. To bind a human too young was forbidden. He’d heard the old wives’ tales about how it always backfired, stopping the human’s soul from growing as it should, paralyzing their sense of self.

In the old days, many was the youkai who had lost the thing most precious to them because of it… And so now there were rules.

Not that he would ever do that to Kagome.

Never.

Just in case, though, has parents had made him promise to wait.

“If you talk to her, son, you’ll want to touch her. And if you touch her you’ll want to kiss her. And if you kiss her you’ll want to bind her. And if you bind her, well… Best to wait. I waited for your mother and look how that turned out.”

At first, it had been easy. They were both young. He could try to ignore her. Stick to hanging out with Miroku and Kōga. Hell, he’d even resorted to boring himself to death some weekends listening to Sesshōmaru drone on about the progress he’d made on his doctorate thesis.

All to distract himself from her.

And he’d done it! He’d waited almost the whole three years. Graduation was less than two months away now. His promise was as good as fulfilled. He would finally be free to pursue her.

But that was before those fucking chocolates.

His eyes scanned the other males in their class, trying to figure out which one had caught the attention of his. fucking. mate.

It better not be one of the other youkai. They should fucking know better, he snarled silently in his head.

Because his youki had always screamed his claim on her even when his words and actions had been forbidden to. It was an instinctual and unstoppable reaction and had made him the butt of many running jokes amongst the youkai population of their school.

All youkai knew the laws around binding human mates too young and thought it fucking hilarious that the hanyou was shit outta luck. Granted, they couldn’t say anything about it to her either – they’d be held just as accountable under the law if they did – but it definitely hadn’t stopped them from teasing him mercilessly about how predictably he ran away every time he had to spend more than a few minutes in Kagome’s presence.

If it’s Koga who’s been flirting with her, I swear I’ll tear that fucker to shreds. She’s meant FOR ME, dammit! His vision swam with red and he felt his fangs lengthening in his mouth.

Miroku kicked his chair from behind, jerking Inuyasha back from his thoughts, then hissed a whisper that only the hanyou would hear. “Get it together, Inuyasha! Even an untrained ass like me can feel your youki swirling! You gotta rein that in, man, or someone’s gonna rat you out to sensei.”

Inuyasha was saved at that moment from having to respond to his friend by their sensei announcing that it was time to break for the day so that the girls could hand out their Valentines before the final bell rang.

Inuyasha turned to stare out the window, taking deep breaths, willing himself to calm down. He suddenly couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He didn’t want to see who she would give the box of chocolates to. Couldn’t bear to see the happy look on the bastard’s face when his Kagome gave whichever fucker it was such a meaningful gift.

The din of the other students chatting and laughing had dulled the sound of footsteps approaching his desk. But then there was something there, in his peripheral vision.

A hand. And in it, a small square box of chocolates.

His eyes shot up in shock.

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

He didn’t look like he had been expecting anyone to stop by his desk. Kagome couldn’t blame him. He’d been in a dark mood all afternoon. She could tell.

She could always tell.

Her throat felt suddenly dry. “These… These are for you, Inuyasha.” The words came out just above a whisper.

And still, he stared at her.

Oh god. This had been a mistake. A colossal mistake. She knew he hated her. Had always known. He’d never tried to hide that fact. He avoided her at all costs and always had.

Heck, it was practically a running joke amongst their classmates; just how long would it take Inuyasha to growl and bolt when he got too close to Kagome this time?

And still… She couldn’t help it.

She’d never believed in love at first sight before that first day of high school, but standing here in front of him she remembered how it had been his laughter that had first caught her attention, making her look up from where she’d been meticulously arranging the contents of her pencil case on the desk in front of her.

That’s when she’d locked eyes with him… and promptly stopped breathing.

Never before or since had her reiki risen like it had in that moment, not even when she was meditating and training under her grandfather’s watchful eye. The power had surged in her veins until she felt like she was on fire from the inside out.

Ande then it had been over. 

He’d been forced to go to his desk, publicly embarrassed on the very first day of school by their jerk of a homeroom teacher, and he’d never forgiven her for it. He’d never so much as looked her in the eye since that day.

Oh, but she had watched him.

She’d watched him with his friends. Watched him practicing with the track team. Watched him sitting in that one sakura tree in the rear quad whenever he had a spare period. Until she felt like if she watched him for even one more day without saying anything her heart would burst… or break… or both.

Because high school was almost over and then he’d be gone from her life and she couldn’t let that happen. Not without at least trying to talk to him, even just once.

And so here she stood, the most expensive box of honmei choco she could afford sitting on the desk between them announcing her feelings for everyone to see.

The bell rang then and the other kids began filing out of the room. It seemed to rouse Inuyasha from his daze.

“For– For me?” He croaked.

Well, at least he finally said something, she thought.

“Uh-huh.”

Her hands were fiddling with the hem of her shirt. She wanted to say something more than just a stupid “uh-huh” but couldn’t seem to force any words past her throat.

“Higurashi-san, please be sure to turn out the lights when you and Akanishi-san* are done.”

Kagome flushed with embarrassment as she realized what kind of idiot she must look like, standing there in the now-empty classroom. “H- Hai, Sensei.”

She sighed then, ready to accept that her pathetic Valentine’s Day attempt at reach out to the boy she’d secretly been in love with for the past three years was turning into a spectacular dumpster fire of a failure. She turned on her heel to leave.

“Wait! Don’t go!” His voice came out strangled and sounded vaguely panicked as his hand shot out to grab her wrist.

And that was it. There was a sizzling jolt when youki met reiki, but then he was standing and pulling her into his arms, crushing her to his chest, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply as though it was the first time he could breathe easily in almost 3 years.

And it was.

Kagome couldn’t explain what she’d just felt, the power that had raced through her system. Nor could she rationalize how not shocked she was by Inuyasha’s sudden embrace.

He hated her… didn’t he?

Then why did this feel so… right?

She realized then that he was mumbling something into her hair as his clawed fingers combed through its length. She strained to hear him.

“I tried to be good, I really did. I tried to stay away.”

“Inuyasha…? What do you mean?”

Kagome tried to pull back enough to look at his face, he seemed reluctant to let her go, and only pulled back far enough to whisper in her ear.

“You’re mine, Kagome. I tried to keep my promise, that I would stay away, but... you’re mine.”

His lips ghosted over the shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. She gasped.

“But… But you hate me.” She stated incredulously.

That did make Inuyasha pull back, a look of horror contorting his face. “What?! No! NO! Never! What kind of monster do you think I am? Who the hell hates their truemate?”

“Truemate?!” Kagome squeaked in shock. She knew exactly what a truemate was. Every trained Miko did.

Her hands, that had fisted in Inuyasha’s school uniform sleeves when he’d caught her up in his embrace, began clenching and unclenching convulsively, her mind running a mile a minute.

Shit! Fuck! Inuyasha’s mind was also racing. He hadn’t meant to blurt that out! She’d just surprised him, is all. And now she looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Ka- Kagome, look, I– I mean, this doesn’t mean– You don’t have to–”

Kagome bit her lip. She could tell he was panicking… But she, strangely enough, wasn’t.

She felt oddly… calm, was it? At peace? Whole? As though some piece of the puzzle that hadn’t quite fit since that fateful day they’d met had now been shifted and was clicking perfectly into place.

If she did this, she knew there was no turning back. That thought was strangely comforting. It gave her the courage to lift two fingers to his lips, damming the flood of his still-sputtering words.

“Shhhhh.” She whispered, raising herself up on her tiptoes, face inching closer to his.

Inuyasha’s eyes widened right before Kagome removed her fingers from his lips, replacing them with her own lips as she spoke.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

Continue to Part 2

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

* Here is a great overview of how Valentines Day is celebrated in Japan.

* Akanishi means “Red West” and I thought it was a fitting surname for a modern Inuyasha.

[paradise-creator]

Hi! May I have a romantic heaven box BNHA matchup, please? :)

I'm Flo, a 19 years old bisexual girl.

Appearance: I'm 164 cm(~5'3) tall, with slim, kinda athletic body. I have medium long brown hair and same coloured deer-eyes(probably most attractive part on me), I also wear eyesglasses. I have thin mouth unfortunately. Also, I have a tiny little scar above my right eyebrow(I opened our car's door on my head years ago lolol), it's barely visible. I'm vain and always dress like a lady: so dresses and skirts, I have a classy, elegant or cute style, depends on my daily outfit. I wear light makeup, but not all the time.

Personality: Ambiverted, Virgo with Leo ascendant and Pisces moon. Needless to say, these already represent how confusingly dual my personality is. My behaviour constatntly changes, depending on who I am with: I try to sell myself, being two-faced, wearing a mask(sometimes I appear to be talkative, other times full-stoic), but to people I really do love, I'm quite blunt. Most of the time I'm caring and relatively kind person(but can be an asshole&harsh if tired emotionally). Highly critical, opinionated and rational-thinker, and I usually analyze everything: movies, books, other people, myself. HATE small talk, I always want to talk about some deep shit, sharing my opinions, thougts(only if you ask for it). Enjoy debating. Also, I'm the REALLY clumsy, like clumsy af and I have an invincible talent in getting myself into the most embarrassing, cringe situations. Hate appearing to be weak or crying in front of others(I never do), and generally I can get melancolic and depressed easily. I don't really trust even my loved ones, I always hide my deepest emotional(or whatever) issues, I just can't stand the fact being emotionally vulnerable. Also, I bottle up feelings well. But I can be soft sometimes which suprises people. One of my best friends said, I am suprising, always doing something unpredicted. Additionally, I stress over something all the time. About my humour, it's kinda ironic, dark, morbid, troll-ish; roasting, teasing people 24/7. Don't worry, despite my sometimes serious act, I can be a total dumb idiot. Selfish, vain, lazy,  snobbish hahah. Quite liberal, and I almost never judge people, I mind my own buisness. When I can talk about something I love or just sharing my opinion, I am passionate and be ready for a LONG rambling. Oh, I love alcohol and going out with friends, also I smoke those occassions. Plus, I have god-like hands, everyone told me that I could earn money bc of my massaging skills(I just know by instict how to touch people lol). Oh, and I daydream and zone out a lot.

Relationship: I don't really have a 'type' but I get bored easily: I takes a lot for me to really like in long-term a person, so I fall easier for complex and charismatic ones(but like I said, I can fall for other personalities too!!). I'm a quite difficult person to be with and to love, so I'm suprisingly flexible in a relationship. Only thing I need and without it wouldn't work at all: DEEP CONVOS AND SOME INTELLECT. Also, I have a quite roasting-bullying type humour, so my lover should understand and being able to handle that. Anyways, I'm not much of a PDA person(but I don't mid handholding, short hugs etc. if my partner really want to), and not romantic at all(also cannot flirt hehe), and for a long time I can be bit distant. Love language is words of affirmation&quality time, and if I have to express my feelings I'm best with acts of service. I love cuddling, ppl are suprised when I initiate hugs but tbh I love physical affection. I'm probably more likely the 'friend' lover. I need a lot, lot, lot alone time.

Hobbies/Likes: classical literature, theatre, politics, hiking, sightseeing, mysteries, reading about disappearances(crimes), trying out new things, yoga, running, horse riding, table tennis, listening to music

Sorry if I was too long, then just ignore me, hehe~

↬ ──:.⃗➹ +.*༉‧ᵕ̈°`*↷. ೃ₊✎⸙͎˚- ̗̀✧: ──↫

┊         ┊       ┊   ┊    ┊        ┊       ┊         ⊹

┊  ⋆｡   ┊       ┊   ┊    ┊        ┊      ⋆｡˚. ੈ

┊         ┊ ⋆｡  ┊   ┊   ˚✩ ⋆｡˚  ✩

┊         ┊       ┊   ✫

┊         ┊       ☪︎⋆                                      ⋆✩

┊ ⊹     ┊                     ⋆｡˚. ੈ

✯ ⋆      ┊ .  ˚                                   ⊹

           ˚     ✩

Dream catcher loading...

ɴᴏᴡ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ

□□□□□0%

■□□□□20%

■■□□□40%

■■■□□60%

■■■■□80%

■■■■□90%

■■■■■100%

*ﾟ ﾟ･ ✧.｡. *. •.°

┊┊┊┊           

┊┊┊☆                 

┊┊☁️　　

┊┊┊    

┊┊                  

┊☆　

┊┊       

☁️   

┊  

☁️

Hello and Welcome my Starlight!

The Haven box includes:

- Match up

- Sun drop

- Flashes of memory

- Such a loser

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I'd match you up with

Bakugou Katsuki, Dynamight

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Sun drops

- Honestly it took me a LONG time to think who you would match with

- There was Momo, Jiro, Denki, and Iida. I just couldnt pick

- But in the end, I choose my first option, Bakugou

- With Bakugou, one is never bored

- His sarcasm and snarky attitude can prove to be entertaining!

- Though he may not seem like it, Bakugou seem like a type of person that will never do small talk

- He's more of a listener tbh

- At first the relationship may be rough but in the end it all works out

- Bakugo is a complicated character, it's hard to read him and that's what makes it exciting

- He isn't into pda but in private, expect some INTIMATE times

- AGRESSIVE COMFORT

- He finds you so cute and entertaining whenever you tease/Bully other people

- ROAST COMPETITION NO CAP

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Flashes of memory

Bakugou: Oi, Dumass!

Requester: Yes?

Bakugou: I Fucking love you so stop being a Dumbass!

Requester: I love you too and I'M NOT A DUMBASS

Bakugo: Your MY dumb

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

Random guy: *Flirts with requester*

Requester: *Is trying not to kill the man*

Bakugou: TAKE THAT YOU PIECE OF SHIT! DON'T FLIRT WITH MY IDIOT

Kirishima: Ah, here we go again--BAKUBRO DON'T KILL HIM

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

Bakugo: OI, NERD

Requester: *ignores*

Bakugo: OI DUMBASS DONT IGNORE ME!

Requester: *Continues to ignore*

Bakugo: Fine! I'm sorry for gatting you mad

Requester: That wasn't so hard now is it?

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Such a loser

"Oi, I heard from Shittyhair you've been criticizing yourself to harshly again. What are you such a dumbass?" Bakugou yelled as she stomped his way towards his girlfriend. "And what if I am?" She replied as she looked away from her book. The brown haired girl was just peacefully reading in her dorm. Nothing much was really going on, she was just studying. She has the tendency to be harsh on herself. And with classmates like hers, it often happens. And as a Boyfriend, Bakugou thinks it's his responsibility and his problem that if his love is sad or hurt or insecure, he will make sure they are loved.

"Get off of the fucking floor and go to bed. We're gonna cuddle and you can't say no as an answer," Bakugo growled. The girl sighed and placed her book down, it's not like she wants to deny anyway. So they went to lay on the bed. Bakugo pulled her head on his chest and wrapped an arm around her." You idiot! Stop being harsh on yourself, dammit," He said as he placed his head on top of hers. "You are already perfect. That's why you got to shut taht pretty little mouth of yours and accept that you are," He added.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Author's note

Hello there! Sorry for the wait, I was quite tired but here is the Haven box as requested.