#Oblivious fluff

[darlingrini]

Some doodles I did of Janie Doe x the LIs from #Crazy4YouVN // @crazy4youvn cause I love them very much and always wanted to doodle oblivious Janie with them heheheh u//w//u

[icepopstar5105us]

“Hey. Uh, Johnny?” Danny said awkwardly, “What does it mean when one of the older ghosts calls you their favored and why does it freak people out?”

Johnny 13 gave the halfa a bewildered look, “Dude. Didn’t you listen to Death? At all?”

“Death?” Danny scrunched his face, “What do you mean? I don’t…”

“Wait.” Johnny straightened, “You’ve talked with Death, right? She explained-?”

Danny shook his head, confused, “Was I supposed to?”

“When you first died, she’s supposed to appear. She gives a whole spiel and then transfers a bunch of information.” Johnny frowned, “She did it for Plasmius, so it’s not a halfa thing.”

“Oh.” Danny looked down, “What if… What if someone died and came back a few times very quickly? Would that… Would that cause any problems?”

Johnny stilled, horrified, “Ok. Look, do you want to talk about your death? Because I’m not asking if you don’t, but...”

“I guess…” Danny said, “So you know that my parents made the portal, right?”

“Yeah.” Johnny said.

“They’d been trying to do it for a long time. Plasmius actually worked with them for a while back when they were in college. It’s why all of their tech is similar in design.” Danny explained, “They built the thing, plugged it in, turned it on… and nothing.”

“But it works now.” Johnny frowned.

“Yeah. It does.” Danny nodded, “But remember my friends? Sam and Tucker?”

“The edgy emo and the computer geek?”

“As Sam’s friend, I am obligated to inform you that she is goth not emo… but yes, those two.” Danny smiled sadly, “My mom and dad were upset. They left the house and Jazz was working her shift at a library. The whole house was empty and I was… you know. A normal teenager home alone.”

Johnny snorted at that, “Ah yes. A completely normal teenager

“Yeah, yeah. The point is, the first thing I did after being left home alone was call my friends over.” Danny rolled his eyes, “Told them what happened and… It was Sam who suggested we go down there first — she’s always been into ghost and occult stuff — and look around. Tucker was down, because it was tech even if we didn’t think most of the tech would work. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to mess around with it. Jazz had given me some lectures on lab safety — my parents don’t usually follow it themselves — and I had a bad feeling so I put on the Hazmat suit.”

“That’s not a superhero costume you came up with?” Johnny asked, eyes widening.

“No, um. It’s a hazmat suit. The only way I changed my form was the insignia and even then that was Sam’s idea.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, but um….” Danny paused, “We wound up standing outside the portal. It wasn’t working or anything, but there was a big spooky metal hole in the wall. You know, the kind of thing you’d expect in sci-fi movies. Sam dared me to go in and I was nervous. That bad feeling just intensified, but again — fourteen. I wasn’t being smart about it. So… I went into it. I kept going and it was dark. I was turning back when I tripped and I flailed. Accidentally hit some button that was on the side and it turned on.”

Johnny took a sharp breath.

“And um. Did you know that the portal takes a lot of electricity to start up?” Danny joked weakly, “Took three blocks worth. Um, lots of ectoplasm, too — from both the zone and the artificial stuff my parents use.” He shuffled, “So um, turns out both those things can revive and kill people. So I just kind of — died and revived a lot until it turned on and basically spat me out into the lab.

“That’s - Kid…”

“So um, maybe since I was dying and reviving so much death didn’t have a chance to fill me in? Honestly, would have like the heads up.” Danny said sheepishly, “I didn’t even understand what had happened until ghosts started coming through the portal.”

“Seriously?”

Danny shrugged, “I mean, I kind of suspected. I was falling through floors. It was hard to ignore, but I didn’t know - My parents are good inventors, but not the best scientists and it made things hard to figure out.”

“What? You bought that whole non-sentient BS?”

“No.” Danny shook his head, “I just didn’t buy any of it — and I mean none of it. I wanted nothing to do with the whole thing. The whole town thought my parents were crazy, they were always in the lab working, and I only ever saw them briefly once or twice a day. Don’t get me wrong. They’re still my parents and I love them, but… they have two big priorities. Their work and their kids. Their work is just… a higher priority to them.”

“Oh.” Johnny cringed, “Oh. Kid…”

“So yeah. Life sucks. Death sucks… but I really need to know what to do and why Ember is freaking out over me being called ‘favored one’.”

“Uh, right.” Johnny paused, “Well, it’s like old ghost language. Um. Basically, it’s like being called a really, really close friend or adopted family. Kind of like… ‘hey, this is my person that I love and protect’. It’s platonic unless they specify otherwise.”

“Huh, okay.” Danny blinked, “That makes sense, but why would Ember freak out?”

“Well… who called you that?”

“Oh! Clockwork and Pandora call me that when I visit.”

Johnny blanched, “What?”

“And now you’re freaking out, too.”

“You’ve been just- Kid! Are you just casually talking to them?”

“Um, yeah? They said it was okay?”

“Do you know nothing about the hierarchy of the- Wait. No. You didn’t get to talk to Death. Of course you don’t-“ Johnny sighed — covering his eyes, “Okay, so do you know what the ancients are?”

“I thought that was just a saying.”

“No, it’s not-” Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose, “The Ancients are the most powerful spirits in the Zone. They’re ghosts, but they resemble ideals more than they do a person most of the time. Practically gods. The ancients are Undergrowth, Frostbite, Nocturne, Pandora, Clockwork, Vortex, and Pariah Dark. Thing is… where most ghosts plateau at a certain power level the ancients can just keep growing in power. Clockwork is one of the strongest — so strong, the Observants bound him to their will.”

“Yeah, I heard about that, but he’s really nice, you know.” Danny smiled, “And he makes really good cookies really fast.”

Johnny stared at Danny for a long moment, “Danny. Do you not hear yourself right now? He’s basically the god of time.”

“Yeah, but if he didn’t want me to visit, I wouldn’t be able to find him.” Danny shrugged, “So he told me if I can see the clocktower, I’m welcome to come in.”

“Kid…”

“Besides. I’m friends with half of those guys and they’re cool.”

“Wha- How many ancients do you know?”

“Um… All the ones you just listed? I’m friends with Frostbite, Pandora, and Clockwork. I fought Undergrowth, Vortex and Nocturne before, but Nocturne likes me now. Um, Undergrowth doesn’t like me, though. Loves Sam, though… Um, obviously I know who Pariah Dark is after the whole thing in Amity-“

Johnny stilled, “Wait a minute… Kid. I need you to answer me honestly here… Did Pariah ever mention a challenge when you fought him?”

“Well, um. I guess? He was all formal speak, though, so…”

“Kid.” Johnny said very slowly, “Did he ever issue a challenge or accept a challenge from you?”

“… Um. He did say that he accepted my challenge or something, but wasn’t that just fight-talk or…”

“I think I get it now.” Johnny sighed, facepalming, “Just… maybe don’t tell people about this and consider asking one of the ancients allies you have about what Pariah accepting your challenge means for you.”

“For me? What-“

“Just… give it some thought.” Johnny paused, “And- Well, I can talk to Ember for you, yeah?”

“Thanks.”

—

Danny curled up on a sofa as Pandora embraced him with three arms and ran her fourth hand through his hair.

“Pandora.” Danny said softly, “Some of my friends say you, Frostbite, and Clockwork are ancients.”

“They are correct.”

“I didn’t know what ancients were.”

“I noticed.” Pandora laughed a bit, “But you’re a sweet child. You helped me get my box back and did not demand my favor. Perhaps it was selfish not to tell you, but I didn’t want to distress you. You are a kind and humble soul. Is it such a surprise I wish to continue seeing you?”

“You thought I would stop if I did?” Danny asked, confused, “I mean, sure my other friends were shaken up by it, but they don’t know you. Why would I be afraid when you’re so nice?”

Pandora blinked and then smiled warmly — a little laugh pulling from her throat. Oh, the innocence of such a young spirit, “Why, indeed? I suppose I didn’t give you or myself enough credit, did I?”

Danny shrugged, “I don’t have room to judge people for being different anyway. I’m a halfa. Pretty sure that’s even rarer than being an Ancient, right?”

“I suppose that is true.” Pandora smiled, “There are only a few halfas and none are quite like you. There will only ever be one of you.”

“Does this have something to do with why I never got to meet death?” Danny asked, confused, “That’s the only thing I can find that seems all that different-“

“In a way… Yes, but there are many more differences. The main one is that you powers have grown beyond Vlad Masters and they continue to do so.” Pandora said, “You are what we call a ‘Juna Potenco’. Most realms will never have heard of such things, but us ancients do not forget and when faced with a gift like yourself… well, you’ll only see more of us with time.”

“What does that mean? Is it bad?”

“No, no. It is a gift, not a punishment.” Pandora promised, “You are an inspiring soul, favored one, and it seems the realms themselves have seen that.”

“That doesn’t sound right.” Danny pulled away and sat up as he shook his head, “I’m a halfa, but that’s what I am. It doesn’t say anything about who I am. There isn’t anything special about who I am.”

“Everyone else disagrees with that last statement.” Pandora shook her head, “But I will let you in on the secret.”

“Yeah?”

“These are not due to your half spirit nature, but something truly special.” Pandora cupped his cheek, “Danny, do you truly wish to know? As amazing as this is, I am not sure you will be ready for the truth just yet.”

“I’m - I’ve been debating what colleges to apply for, but… I don’t know if any of them will take me now with my grades. I still look fourteen — fifteen at the oldest… and I still feel fourteen.” Danny looked at Pandora with pleading eyes, “So if this would impact my future, I think I’d like to know. Before things get complicated.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly, everything froze.

Danny looked up to see Clockwork putting a medallion on Pandora while Frostbite gave him a smile.

“I presume you’re here to assist in informing him?” Pandora asked.

“Indeed.” Frostbite nodded.

“Informing me of what?” Danny asked, confused.

“When you went to face Pariah Dark, you stated your intention to fight him.” Clockwork said, “And he accepted your challenge. You fought in single combat, removed the Crown of Fire from his head, and then managed to get him into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.”

“Vlad-“

“Plasmius might have locked the Sarcophagus, but you have repeatedly bested him and even when he has gotten the best of you, it has not been in single combat. However, Plasmius at one point claimed your fight was a ‘fun challenge’. You agreed — officially accepting it as such. When you defeated him, he lost any fragile claim to the throne.”

“Claim to the- Wait. What are you saying?” Danny glanced between them, “What? No. No… you have to be kidding me. I’m just me. I was trying to help, not-“

“Child, your soul was always going to be tied to the zone one way or another.” Pandora said, “Mortality is already a fragile thing, but someone so surrounded by ectoplasm at a young age all while experiencing the struggles you did with your parents absence… it was inevitable that you would be a powerful ghost.”

“But, then, Great One.” Frostbite continued, “You stood fully emerged in the space between worlds and thought of protection and forgiveness — mercy. You did not even consider vengeance or desires of your own. Only the wellbeing of others. It is an act of great sacrifice and not one many can complete so fully.”

“To put it simply, Danny.” Pandora said, “You’re one of us, Juna Protenco. New and young power that will grow infinitely. Though you are far from ancient, you will be with time.”

“An ancient to be.” Danny said distantly.

“The Ancient of Protection, Space, Mercy, and Matter.” Clockwork turned into his newborn form, “The best candidate for king we’ve had in a long time. Though, perhaps I am a bit biased.”

“Does it have something to do with space-time?” Danny guessed, “Because Matter, Time, and Space…”

“Correct.” Clockwork smirked, “Matter tells spacetime how to curve, and curved spacetime tells matter how to move. I guide you and you make changes that I will use to guide you again.”

Dannu blinked, “Oh. I get it.”

“You do?” Pandora blinked.

“That’s domains for you.” Frostbite chuckled and then quickly explained when Danny gave him a confused look, “We all innately understand our domains and their meanings. My domain is progression, society, and advancement.”

“Mine is responsibility, hope, protection, and perseverance.” Pandora revealed.

“Indeed.” Clockwork transformed into the middle aged man again, “But now that you know of your future, we must prepare.” He put his hand on Danny’s shoulder, “Your coronation must happen by the time you turn eighteen. As Ghost King, you will need to learn some diplomatic skills. We will teach you while you finish your human schooling.” Clockwork promised, “You can tell your parents the truth or you can say you are simply leaving for college, but Maddie and Jack Fenton cannot move to the Zone with you. Your sister is welcome. Your friends are welcome, but unfortunately…”

“I understand.” Danny lowered his head, “I don’t think I’ll tell them just yet. Maybe I’ll leave a note or a video, but…”

Clockwork’s eyes glazed over briefly — clearly checking the timeline.

“That is a good idea.” Clockwork nodded.

“Okay.” Danny swallowed, “I can’t -”

“No.” Clockwork said, “Honored as these two would be, they have their duties and people. They cannot. I am both bound by the Observants and a little too prone to acts of selfishness. It is too much power for me. No. It must be you.”

“You’re not selfish. You helped me.” Danny tilted his head, confused.

Clockwork chuckled guiltily as Pandora made a face and Frostbite shifted awkwardly.

“There is a reason people fear me, Danny.” Clockwork seemed more amused than anything by the sudden awkwardness, “I appreciate your trust in me, but I was not so good or kind in life. I hold domain over regret and retribution as well as time. It is a position I earned after giving and getting both in equal measure. I am not a protective spirit by nature. I am one that seeks justice and sometimes revenge.”

“I don’t get it.” Danny frowned, confused.

“Soon, you will.” Clockwork said grimly, “But for now… Trust me when I say all is as it should be.”

“Okay.” Danny said, “I trust you.”

“Now, time in.” Clockwork said. When Danny tried to give him the medallion he shook his head, “No, hold onto it. I believe it goes without saying, but do not lose it.”

“I know. I won’t.” Danny promised.

“Good, now… I believe you have some friends to talk to?”

“Er, right!” Danny said and rushed off.

“He doesn’t know who you are?” Frostbite turned to Clockwork, “And you haven’t told him?”

“… He’ll learn during his studies.” Clockwork admitted begrudgingly, “And it’s best that he come to me after he processes the information than during.”

“Just remember, Kronos.” Pandora glared as she handed over her medallion, “One wrong move-“

“Yes, yes, I am very aware of your opinions of me, Keeper of Hope.” Clockwork held a hand to Frostbite, “Shall I take you back to your people?”

“Er, yes.”

“Good, then-“

“Hey! I was not finished-“

“TIME OUT!”

Pandora sighed as they disappeared, “Ugh. He is always such a petty menace. One of these days…”

[youneedsomeprompts]

~ OBLIVIOUS PINING ~ PROMPTS about denial of feelings

requested by: anonymous request: how can i resolve very heavy denial of feelings? it doesn’t feel organic to just have a “oh crap, i like them” moment for this specific character

Feel free to use and reblog!

changing their behaviour towards the other person before they realise their own feelings

doing something nice for the other impulsively

growing softer in their attitude towards the other

finding themselves daydreaming about the other

being annoyed by how much the other occupies their thoughts/their daily life

realising certain single traits of the other they like/adore

being in the other's debt, so they can't hate them so much anymore, they 'have to' like them at least a little

getting flustered when the other is nice to them

realising they're feeling much better when they know that the other is happy

enjoying making the other smile

^ and being worried afterwards about these new strange sensations towards the other's happiness

*eye-rolling* "Well, I guess I can do that for you."

feeling bad when they're treating the other shitty

feeling bad when they're ignoring the other

telling themselves that they can be nice without that having to mean they like the other (that's totally normal, right? to give someone a gift and it doesn't mean anything)

A talking to C about B: "Yes, we're getting along better now. But I mean, it's normal, right? To do nice things, even though you weren't on good terms just a week ago. People change. Relationships change. But that doesn't mean we like each other, alright?"

spending hours wondering who the other actually is and what they mean to them

"Nothing has changed." *when in fact, everything has changed*

"It has always been like this." *when in fact, they're losing their mind about not seeing sooner how it has actually been*

"Come on, it can't come as a big surprise to you." *when in fact, it's the biggest surprise to themselves*

[hairmetal666]

Eddie thought inviting Steve to the Grammys would be fine, cool, no big deal. And it should be, but Steve is walking out of the suite's bedroom wearing a burgundy tuxedo that fits him like a fucking glove. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to let chest hair peak out, and Eddie thinks he might faint.

He's always been attracted to Steve, of course, but never let it go further than that. Like, sure, Steve was hot as fuck, and sure he was the best guy Eddie had ever met, and sometimes, yeah, he did have to force away thoughts of Steve when he jerked off, and in other circumstances he'd totally be head over heels. Just, Steve is straight, the straightest, a fucking arrow.

Eddie tears his eyes from Steve's body. "You look great, man." He slaps Steve's back. Keeping it cool; keeping it so cool.

"Psh," Steve says. "Have you looked in a mirror? Oh my god." His eyes are saucer wide as they travel down Eddie's body.

"Is it too much?" Eddie crosses his arms over his bare chest.

"Are you kidding? You're--fuck, man. You look good as hell."

He's wearing a silky burgundy shirt, open to show off the necklaces around his throat, his tattoos, the silver in his nipples. His pants are leather, tight, sitting low on his hips and putting the cut of his pelvic bone on full display. They have a lace-up closure that comes dangerously close to showing pube.

Heat rushes to his face at the compliment. "It's--you know. Hazard of the job."

"Yeah, hazard, sure. Guess it's a hard life having hot dudes literally throwing themselves at you."

Eddie barks out a laugh. "That's a vast exaggeration."

"Is it?"

He blushes harder. "You're my date tonight, Steve."

"My point exactly."

His manager and publicist usher them out the door before he can ask what the hell that meant.

---

The ride is giddy and playful, Steve popping champagne to celebrate Eddie's nomination for Song of the Year, even though there's no chance in hell he wins.

Steve is happy. His face is bright with joy, eyes shining, laugh loud and infectious. He's gorgeous, knows it, will be an absolute menace on the red carpet. He's been with Eddie to parties and stuff before, doesn't have any anxiety in front of the camera and isn't obsessed with musicians like Eddie is, unafraid to meet them.

Or so Eddie thought.

Because now they're standing at the edge of the red carpet, Steve very nearly trembling next to him.

"Harrington?"

"That's--That's Madonna." Steve points to her. "We're not even ten feet away from Madonna." He gulps. "Eddie. Madonna."

Steve has met famous people before with Eddie. Ozzy, briefly, Janet Jackson, Dave Grohl, James Hetfield, and he'd always been fine. Barely batted an eye. But get him within reaching distance of Madonna and he falls apart.

Eddie doesn't think about it, grabs Steve's hand, twines their fingers together. "Okay?"

The smile Steve throws him, grateful and a little embarrassed, stabs straight through his heart. He calms as they make it up the carpet, but he doesn't drop Eddie's hand, even when they pause for pictures. In fact, he leans into it, drapes his arm around Eddie's shoulders, or around his waist, seeming to thrive the closer they are. Eddie feels this dangerous pull to indulge in it, to let himself believe it means something, and he doesn't quite have it in him to turn it off.

By the time they reach their seats, Steve is relaxed back to his normal charming and handsome self, doesn't bat an eye as Eddie introduces him around.

The show passes quickly with all the performances and Steve whispering jokes in his ear. It's the best time he's ever had at an award show, like he should have been bringing Steve along this whole time. He's so distracted that he's not really ready when Paula Abdul comes out to announce Song of the Year.

His name is read off as a nominee and Steve grabs his hand, squeezes tight. Eddie's heart flips in his chest. He's not paying attention when Paula opens the envelope, too focused on Steve's strong hand holding his. He hears her say, "And the Grammy goes to--" and everything goes fuzzy.

Steve is saying, "oh my god, oh my god, Eddie. Get up, get up."

And his fucking song is playing and everyone is cheering, a couple people slap his back, and oh shit, oh shit, he fucking won. He stands, Steve with him. He thinks they're going to hug, that's what you do in these situations, but Steve is kissing him. Not on the cheek and not a quick peck, but lip-to-lip, soft and sweet.

Steve just kissed him and he has to get on stage and give a speech. He has no idea what he says because Steve just kissed him. On the lips. On purpose. His ears are ringing and words tumble out of his mouth, thinks he says, "couldn't have done it without you, Stevie," before tripping over his feet to get backstage.

Interviews, photographs, congratulations all help him settle. He's still buzzing with the win, but aware enough now to think the kiss had to be an accident. They've been friends for nearly a decade and Steve never seemed interested in men generally or Eddie specifically.

It takes a while to finish up the backstage business, but when he makes it to his seat, Steve just beams at him. He doesn't mention the kiss, which makes Eddie think he's overreacting. It wasn't a big deal. Sure, he could still feel Steve's lips, warm and soft, against his own, but it didn't mean anything. He's just too in his big gay feelings to be objective.

They don't get a chance to really talk until they're back in the limo and on their way to the after-party.

"You won," Steve says.

"I won." Eddie smiles. "Crazy."

"You deserved it."

He shrugs. "I don't know about that."

"Doesn't matter. You did." Steve fidgets with the cuff of his jacket. "About earlier, um. The kiss. I--"

Eddie feels his face heating, heart kicking up. It was nothing, he knows, and Steve shouldn't have to-- "It was an accident. It's okay. I know you don't--it was the heat of the moment and--I know you're not--you don't--"

Steve blinks a lot, emotions flashing across his face faster than Eddie can categorize.

"What if I do?" Steve asks. His voice is too soft, eyes locked on the cuff link he's fiddling with.

"You--what?"

"What if I did mean it?"

"You're straight."

Steve goes pink. "I'm really not."

"Steve?" He shrieks. "Since when?"

"Um. Since you invited me to this?"

"What the fuck?" Eddie shoves him. "What the fuck, man?"

"I know, I know!" Steve pulls his hand through his hair. "You invited me and I freaked out and I didn't know why, and Robin made the saddest little face at me. Said, 'oh, dingus, you didn't know?' How the fuck was I supposed to know!"

"I think you wanting to fuck me should've been a pretty good indication!"

"I thought that happened to everyone!"

"It doesn't!"

"That's what Robin said!"

They're both yelling.

"Jesus christ. Jesus christ," Eddie keeps repeating.

"Look, I get it if you don't want me too, dude. I know that's not how it works, but I've been pretty crazy about you without realizing it for a while now, so--"

He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, but he laughs. Like, super loud. Like a donkey bray.

"Okay, can the driver let me out? Like, can I go? I can't--"

"Wait, wait, sweetheart." Steve's gotten up, like he's about to knock on the partition, but Eddie grabs his wrist. "Of course I want you back, you idiot, oh my god."

"Oh." Steve's ears are pink. "Oh. Well. That's good."

Eddie huffs. "Just good? I won a Grammy and the guy I've been pining over for years wants me back. I'm having the night of my life."

"Shut-up." Steve's smile is so big, his eyes so bright.

He raises an eyebrow. "Make me," he says in his lowest register, but he's truly not prepared for it when Steve clambers over to him and lowers himself to straddle Eddie's hips.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers. "Holy shit, Steve."

He give a wry little smile, eyes locked on Eddie's mouth. "Baby, can I kiss you?"

"Yes." Eddie clears his throat. "Yes, please, do that. Yeah."

Only, he doesn't. He's straddling Eddie, they're so close their breath mingles, and Steve's eyes flicker between Eddie's mouth and his eyes, lips so close to touching but not.

"C'mon, asshole," Eddie says.

"I knew you'd be a brat." He whispers. He wraps his hands into Eddie's hair. "Been dying to do this."

And then they're kissing. They're kissing and it steals all of Eddie's breath and his thoughts, and it's new but it's also like they've been kissing forever, like their lips and tongue know each other, like coming home.

He whines, high-pitched and breathy, and Steve laughs, kisses him deeper, moves closer, and Eddie feels how hard Steve is, the persistent pulse of him. And shit Eddie's close, on the brink just from this, from nothing, oh my god.

Steve's hands drift down Eddie's torso, mapping his chest and his stomach, coming to rest at the laces of his pants. "These have been driving me insane," Steve breaks the kiss to say. "Been thinking about undoing them all night."

"Fuck, sweetheart, you can't say shit like that," Eddie groans.

"Why not?"

"Because--because," Eddie sputters but then Steve's lips are on his neck and he's rolling his hips for friction.

Steve's fingers find the laces again, trace against them. Eddie's legs fall open, arching into the touch. "We're going to be so late," he murmurs as Steve's fingers get to work.

[dreamgirievii]

Instant Crush

Synopsis: Your families arranged for you to marry each other and boost their companies, they just didn't know you were declared enemies since childhood. Now you're living on the same roof and sharing a bed, you still have to keep up appearances for your parents so they won't suspect that you hate each other. But now after months together, you begin to feel desire for him, and you hate the thoughts that are now invading your head.

Words: 1,3 k

Content: female reader, enemies to lovers, oblivous to love trope, arranged marriage.

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

part 3 here

You were arranged in a marriage with a soon to be CEO, Gojo Satoru, who also happened to be your childhood enemy. It has been months and you were still trying to settle in his presence, he was everywhere you go, he knew everyone you knew, and besides, you have to share a bed. so your plans to pretend he didn't exist in your life were long ago tossed aside. 

And now you found yourself with your back to each other trying to ignore his excessive talking.

Everyday before you could even try to sleep, he would ramble about the most obnoxious things, he knew you got irritated every time, that's why started doing it religiously. Today was no different, the minute you went to your room, he followed, and started his monologues. Until they stopped, you thought he finally gave up and slept. 

“When are you planning to finally let me in?” he whispered in an annoyed tone. You didn't bother to answer, closing your eyes shut as a communication you don't want to talk to him. You felt the weight of the mattress shift and his hot breath in the back of your neck.

“What do you mean?” you let on in a false tired tone, still not facing him.

“Oh y/n. Don't play innocent with me. You know exactly what I mean. but if you want to deny the pleasure of my presence, then who am I to say otherwise?” he whispered in your ear in a condescending tone. You finally turn to face him.

As you face him, you see a smug smile on his face, his eyes sparkling false playfulness. You could feel your cheeks burning hot, be it by anger, or something else. 

“Look who finally decided to face me! couldn't hold yourself longer huh? admit y/n you just can't hold yourself any longer” he said as he grabbed your chin without much tenderness. “i can see it in your eyes, that fucking desire” he spat the last words letting go of your face.

“There is nothing to deny. I have my reason to not want anything to do with you”

Gojo smirks got even wider as he said, leaning closer to you, his voice lower and seductively in your ear. “I do love a challenge, I'll make you surrender to me. I know you want me just as much as I want you.”

“Want me?” you lower your voice to match his. “I thought we shared the same hatred, why this neediness all of a sudden?” a mocking tone leaving your lips.

Gojo doesn't say anything for a moment, his eyes burning holes in your face. You see a hint of vulnerability in him quickly dismissed by his natural arrogance. 

“Neediness? I think you misunderstood. I simply want what is mine.” you raise an eyebrow at him. “The difference between us is that I don't deny that I want you.”

“Is that all you want from me?” you try to contain yourself, but the words escape faster than your conscience. 

“No. I want so much more. I want all of you. your mind, your body, your soul. I want to possess you.” Gojo leans over to get on top of you, leaving you nowhere to go, and nowhere to look besides his gorgeous face. “ I want to know you better, your likes and dislikes, your dreams and how I can help to fulfill them. I need you not just carnally but-” 

before he can finish you crash your lips together, if it's in a way to shut him up or feel him.

He returned the kiss as eager as you, until you separated your lips, returning to your initial position with your back to him.

“What? What are you doing?”He asked, genuinely surprised.

“Preparing myself to sleep you should do that too.” you said, trying to suppress a smile as you hid your face on the pillow. 

“I can't sleep now with the tent set up!”

“You can always use your hand. Good night.” you finally closed your eyes hoping the sleep would come faster despite the stir of feelings inside you.

You felt Gojo adjusting himself on the bed, despite his frustration you couldn't help but let your lips form a smile. You wouldn’t give yourself so easily, no matter how much you wanted, and you wanted so much you could feel it in your stomach, that pit turning and aching to be wrapped around him. You still hated him… maybe… maybe it was just indifference now, right? Otherwise why would you want him so badly inside you like you do? Maybe it’s just the heat of the moment that just happened. Or maybe it’s his shirtless frame lying beside you… his toned back so perfectly you could see his muscles, his shoulders so broad that it made you feel a tingle… 

You shake the thoughts away, blinking and sighing, focusing to clear your mind and finally sleep. But you couldn’t, you just couldn’t stop to imagine how he looked without his pants… and without his boxers too. 

You groan in frustration and turn around in bed, pressing the pillow hardly against your head. 

“What now?” He mutters beside you, still in his position with his back to you.

“Nothing. Go to sleep.” 

He huffs and closes his eyes again, frustrated with you. His hardness hadn’t diminished yet, and he was still hurting hot and fighting the urges to just flip you and enter your wetness. But he fought the horniness on his mind, instead thinking of thoughts of his father that made his skin crawl and his organs twist in disgust, just so he could sleep peacefully and without a boner staining his pants. But then he hears you sigh and turn on you back again, and the soft sound leaving your lips only makes his hardness increase. 

“Can’t you stay quiet? Sleep in silence? huh?” He mutters frustrated, more with himself than with you. 

You huff again and press your legs tighter together, trying to stop the wetness on your panties. You look at him and lean to support your body weight with your elbow.

He senses you moving again, and gives you a side eye.

“What’s your problem now?” You ask, sensing his frustration and impatience.

“You.”

“Me? What did I do now?” You feel your own frustration rising.

“You can’t stop moving, and leaving soft sounds in your mouth, it’s driving me insane!” 

You just look at him with parted lips, all you want now is to sit on his lap and ride him until your lungs and legs break. But instead you sit straight and run your palm over your face. You’re frustrated with yourself and the feelings swirling inside you. You never had felt like this to anyone else, and why did you have to feel like this for him? 

You look sheepishly to him, admiring his strong arms and cursing yourself for it. You reach a hand to his arm and caress it softly. You feel him tense and look at you with wide eyes, and you realize what you just did. You retrieve your hand from him and mutter an apology but before you can but you hand back in your laps he takes it, and places it on his arm again. 

“Keep doing that.” he mutters and closes his eyes.

So you keep rubbing his arm while you make yourself comfortable in bed again. The soothing of his skin makes your fire rise even further, but you try to brush it away. It’s too early to give in. And besides, you wouldn’t be the first to give in to these feelings. 

You keep rubbing his arms soothingly and close your eyes, your face almost completely pressed against his toned back, your hot breathing warming his skin. And you swear you could stay like this forever, just pressed against his back and feeling his warmth, you hated the fact that you wanted him, and hated the fact that you hated it. You sigh and close your eyes again, you know that you won’t be able to push the thoughts away, that you can’t keep pretending to hate him forever, but still… you still have to keep the facade, you won’t give in to lust just yet.

[quoth-the-crow-nevermore]

“this is painful to watch,” paimon blurted out, watching you and neuvillette awkwardly try to flirt with each other. “it is,” the traveler agrees, shaking their head in disappointment. furina rolls her eyes and huffs, putting her chin on her hand, looking at the two of you in annoyance. “i’ve been trying to get them together for a month now! they still haven’t realized their love is reciprocated!” furina groans, lamenting all her hard work gone to waste.

“maybe we should just tell them up front?” the traveler suggests, only to receive a laugh from furina and a smack from paimon. the traveler glares at them, “well, do you two have a better idea?” furina’s laughter dies down and paimon stuffs her face with more cake. a long silence fills the air as the trio resume looking over to you and neuvillette.

paimon breaks the silence, “…maybe we should just tell them…” the traveler rolls their eyes, leaning back in their chair in contempt. furina clicks her tongue. “tsk, that’s so unromantic though!” she proclaims as though it should be obvious. “well do you have any better ideas?” the traveler arches a brow at furina. she’s silent for a few minutes, seemingly deep in thought. furina sighs, “no i don’t,” she admits, “but i want to be the one to do it!”

paimon jolts and gives furina a look. “no paimon wants to do it!” she whines, stomping her foot. immediately the two argue over who gets to break the news to you and neuvillette. shaking their head the traveler silently gets up and walks over to you two. as they get closer they can hear the two of you stumbling over your words. rolling their eyes, they come to a stop in front of you and neuvillette and clear their throat. at the noise the two of you immediately cease your babbling, faces warm. you look to the traveler, who looks very unimpressed. “…you two do realize you like each other right?”

silence.

a pin drops. your eyes shoot towards neuvillette’s. his face is red and you can feel your own heat up considerably. you shift on your feet. “…so…you like me?” you say, trying (and failing) to come off as unaffected. neuvillette clears his throat, “i do. …you ‘like’ me as well?” you shrug, looking away. “i’ve been trying to tell you i love you for months,” you mutter, rocking on your feet anxiously. neuvillette startles, face burning. “i hadn't-i hadn’t realized, my apologies. i have been trying to court you for a while now, too,” he confesses, grip tightening on his cane. your eyes dart back to his. “i didn’t know either…” you trail off, feeling foolish and dense.

neuvillette clears his throat again. “perhaps we should discuss this over dinner?” he suggests. you crack a smile, “of course; my treat.” neuvillette tries to protest but you just grab his hand and drag him along. walking back to the table where furina and paimon sit dumbfounded, the traveler smirks feeling vindicated. they sit down, ignoring paimon’s whining. they grab another slice of cake and look over to furina. she sits in deep in thought, before snapping her fingers. “alright! now that that’s done, i’m going to spread the news…” she trails off, getting out of her seat and walking towards the steambird hq. the traveler only shakes their head and continues eating, silently wishing you and neuvillette luck.

[daniswoso]

You like me?

Grace Clinton x Reader

Summary: Grace likes you, but you don’t know it; you also like her and you’re sure you have no chance.

Warnings: some swearing, not much else.

*********

“You asked her yet then?” Ella asks, her, Mary and Alessia sitting down by your side. You shake your head solemnly and look out to where Grace was messing around on the training pitch with Beth.

It was a sunny day and the way the light reflected off her simply gorgeous eyes made your heart skip a few beats. “Not yet, I’m not even sure she likes me man.” You groan, sagging against the comfortable sofa.

“Jesus- Y/N, we’ve been over this. She’s so into you! Anyone can spot it from bloody miles away.” Alessia grumbles, scrubbing a hand over her face with an exasperated sigh.

“Y’know what, if anyone had told me I’d be helping two lovesick kids figure out their feelings for each other in Spain? I’d tell them to fuck off. But here I am. So c’mon,” Mary claps her hands and drags you to your feet. “get a move on. Tell her.”

You glare at her and defiantly sit back down, folding your arms. “We’re not kids, grandma. We’re adults, I’ll have you know. I pay taxes.”

“Okay, yeah sure whatever. Just piss off and let us do our puzzles.” Mary pokes you in the sides as you yelp, your sliders nearly falling into the pool as you practically leap off the giant chair.

“Dickhead! Youse lot sat down next to me!” You shout over your shoulder as you walk off, nervously approaching Grace. You’re about to ask when a ball comes flying at your face and you find yourself flat on your ass and dazed, barely aware of the small trail of blood making its way down your chin from your nostrils.

“Jesus, Clinton! You’ll damage the poor girl if you carry on!” You hear Beth shout as you blink back to reality.

Grace hoists you up, murmuring apologies and taking you to get cleaned up, dragging you to her room and into the bathroom.

After a minute of silence you speak up, “I could’ve walked you know?”

“What?” Grace asks, stopping and looking up at you from where she’s knelt down on the floor.

“I could’ve walked.” You repeat again, chuckling and helping her look for a first aid kit, cold cloth still firmly pressed against your nose.

“Oh, uh yeah. Sorry, you just, I-“

“Clinton, mate, it’s fine. Don’t sweat it.” You chuckles, triumphantly pulling the first aid kit from the cupboard with a grin, unaware of the utter heart eyes Grace was sending your way.

Eventually, you’re patched up. Not quite sure what to do, however, you sit there awkwardly while Grace cleans up the plethora of cloths and bandaids she’d gripped from the medicine cabinet to get the first aid kit.

“Hey, Clinton?” It’s then when you remember Alessia’s words,

“She’s so into you! Anyone could spot it from bloody miles away!”

“I like you.”

“I like you too, Y/L/N.”

“No, I like like you. Like… Like like.”

“Are you fuckin’ concussed?” Grace chuckles, but she’s somewhat concerned as she starts gripping your face softly in her hands, urgently but with the utmost care, her thumbs widening your eyes manually to check your pupils.

“No. I’m not. I like you, Grace. Mums.” You breathe out, the fear of rejection gripping your heart with enough force to squeeze it in half.

“Y/N… Shit…” She begins, and you’re sure this is it. The whole “but we can still be mates!” routine youd heard from many girls in the past. Until you feel her lips against yours, soft and tender and moving against you in a way that makes you convinced her lips were made to be against yours.

“I like you too.”

“You? Like me?” You ask, lips swollen and cheeks flushed. Her appearance mirrored yours in a way, although she looked considerably more pretty in your opinion.

“Yeah. Quite a lot actually, and for a while.”

She barely has time to finish her sentence before your lips are against hers again, and when you part you rest your forehead against hers, breathing heavily with the biggest smirk on your face.

“Buzzing.” You breathlessly say.

“You’ve been hanging out with Lessi too much.” She chuckles, making you slap her shoulder softly.

*******

A/N: Small one, but hope it’s enjoyed nonetheless.

[superhaught]

Sweetest Girl (Chapter Three)

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warning(s): angstttttttt

Word Count: 2100, Part 3/?

No summary because "so much happened i don't even know what to think" - @sapphicantics

Thank you once again to @sapphicantics for being the best ever <3

Part 1 / Part 2

You saw it coming but it surprised you all the same. Not even two minutes into the fourth episode of Real Housewives that Regina had insisted on starting, she was completely passed out on your shoulder.

Your surprise wasn’t at the fact that she fell asleep, the girls’ exhaustion was obvious. What shook you was that she ended up comfortably tucked against your side, her head leaning on your shoulder, and her gentle breaths tickling your neck. 

You took her Mac off of her lap and gently closed it, setting it aside on the bed while trying to avoid moving too much. 

It was late. If you were someone else, your parents might have expected you home by now. Might even be calling to find out where you were. Might have bothered to get the phone number of the person’s house you were going to in the first place. But you weren’t someone else and you were fairly confident that your presence wasn’t missed, nor would your absence be noticed. 

It was this thought process that pulled a deep sigh out of you which ended up waking Regina. She sat up with a bit of a start and glanced around her room and then back at you, and your shoulder, as she processed where she had positioned herself in her sleep-addled state.

“What… I fell asleep?” She furrowed her brows as she noticed the small trail of drool that had escaped the corner of her mouth. She wiped it away quickly and grumbled, “fucking Christ…” 

“Hey, it’s okay, you were tired. You should go back to sleep.” You started to scoot to the edge of the bed, intending to get up and get going so as to not prolong her embarrassment. 

The blonde, however, did not allow this. She reached out and grasped your wrist, “what are you doing?” 

You stared at her, “I… I’m gonna get out of your hair so you can rest.” 

“No!” Her cheeks flushed the second she realized how she sounded, “no… I mean… I can’t drive right now and I’m not letting you walk home when it’s this late. Just stay.” 

“Stay? You’re sure?” 

“Yeah…” she nodded, “of course, I’m sure. You can, right?” 

“I guess so… is there, like a guest room or a couch you want me on?” 

“What are you talking about? No, just stay here.” 

“What? Won’t that bother you?” 

“No, dummy. Clearly I was able to sleep just fine with you here,” she tried to stop it but Regina couldn’t help but yawn and it made you smile. It was cute. 

“Just,” she fought to speak through the yawn, “grab some clothes you can sleep in out of my closet and then get back in bed…” 

“Regina, are you-“ 

“Shut up. Yes, I’m sure.” She started shoving decorative pillows off of the bed and then slid under the covers and collapsed onto her own pillow. “And hurry up and turn the light off on your way back.” 

You watched her close her eyes and you knew there was no more back and forth to be had. You walked over to Regina’s closet and eventually found a drawer containing a mixture of old summer camp t shirts and knit shorts so you hastily changed into them, turned off the bedroom light, and crawled into Regina’s bed, opposite from her. 

You pulled the covers over yourself and exhaled. Her bed was so comfortable it was insane. It was insane for anyone to have a bed this nice.

And how did her bed smell so good, too? Did the linens get washed every day? You nuzzled your face into the pillow and breathed in. It wasn't a laundry detergent smell, it just smelled like her. 

You closed your eyes and got comfortable. You could hear Regina’s breathing slow down next to you and then you heard her whisper, “‘night.” 

“G’night, Regina.” 

You had the most peaceful sleep of your life. You didn’t know when you last slept in past 8 am at the latest. But at 10 am on this Sunday morning at the George’s, you were still blissfully unaware of the world. 

It wasn’t until you felt motion in the bed that you started to come to. Your eyes cracked open just slightly and were met with an expanse of blonde hair. 

That was weird. 

Your senses clarified quickly then and you realized that your arm was draped over a body, that the body’s back was against your front, that yours and the body’s legs were intertwined. 

You were squarely in the center of your pillow, though. It was the other body that had shifted in the night. Her half of the bed was empty and her bottom arm splayed across her pillow, which she had abandoned in favor of taking the edge of yours. 

The girl took a deep breath and shifted slightly again, rubbing one of her legs against yours. 

You didn’t know what to do. Waking her would mean confronting this situation right now. Pretending not to notice and going back to sleep felt like it would be violating somehow… you ultimately decided the former was better. 

Gently, you gave her upper arm a slight shake and whispered, “Regina… hey, Regina…” 

She grumbled but didn’t wake up. 

You tried again, “Regina… Gina…” 

The blonde sniffled and groaned, “whattime’sit?” 

“Uh… I don’t know,” you answered, “Regina, you’re…” 

She woke up a little more, felt you so close to her, felt that she wasn��t entirely on her side of the bed. She started to sit up. 

“We must’ve-“ 

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” Regina sat up the rest of the way and pushed your arm off of her, “this was a mistake.” 

You sat up, too, startled by this reaction, “Regina wait, it’s fine-“ 

“No, shut up. My mom can’t see us like this. You need to get up.” 

“Regina, hold on-“ 

“Are you listening?” She hissed, “get up. Now. This was stupid, my fault for having you stay in the bed. We’re going to get dressed and I’m driving you home.” The blonde got out of her bed and beelined for her vanity where she quickly sat down and began harshly brushing through her hair. 

You stood up and took a few steps across the room to go be by her, “Regina, wait, can we talk about this?” 

She looked at you through the mirror and she frowned, “no. We can’t. Get changed.” 

Ten minutes later, Regina was quietly ushering you out the front door of her house and unlocked her Jeep with a click of the key fob. She wordlessly got into her seat and buckled and waited for you to do the same, before backing out of her driveway and starting the route to your house. 

“Regina-“ 

“Whatever you might think last night was… it wasn’t, okay?” 

“What do you mean what I think? I… wait, Regina, I don’t understand. Why are you freaking out? It wasn’t a big deal.” 

“That’s easy for you to say, everyone already thinks you’re a lesbian.” 

“What?”

Regina stepped on her brake as a yellow light turned red and then she turned to face you. 

“That can’t happen again. You can tutor me. You can come to my house like I promised. But that cannot happen again.” 

“But WHAT happened?!” You didn’t mean to shout at her, but you were panicking. 

Regina stared at you. A car behind you honked because the light had turned green. She clenched her jaw and focused on the road again. 

“Pull over.” 

“No.”

“Pull over, Regina.” 

She didn’t respond but she turned her blinker on and pulled to the side of the road and parked on the shoulder. 

“I’m not going home until you tell me what the fuck is going on right the fuck now.” 

She looked at you silently. Her face and eyes were red, like she was on the brink of tears.

Your expression softened, “Regina, please.” 

“You don’t get it, do you?” 

“Obviously not.” 

The blonde sighed and dropped her face into her hands, “for someone who is so smart, you are so stupid…” 

“Then make it make sense. Please.” 

She took a deep breath and then sat back up, rubbing her eyes as she did so, “you’re so sweet… of course you don’t get it.” She faced you then and she looked more upset than you’d seen her, “it was on purpose… I… I wanted to cuddle with you.” 

“You… okay… so?” 

“That’s a bad thing!” 

“Why? Because I’m a nerd?” 

“No! Because you’re not a guy! I can’t like you… like that…” 

You just stared at her. 

“Say something!” 

“I don’t know what to say!” 

“I can’t get that close to you… not again… I can’t… my family can’t know… the school can’t know that… that…” 

“That you might like girls?” 

“That I do like girls. That I only like girls. I’m not out and I can’t come out and so I sure as hell can’t let what happened happen again because… because I…” 

You waited for her to continue. 

“Because I… will want it to keep happening… and then I won’t be able to stop it…” 

“Wait, so… so I don’t get a say? I just… I just have to do whatever the fuck you tell me to… you get to tell me this and then it’s just over? There’s no trying? What if I liked cuddling with you? What if I felt the same way?” 

“Stop. You can’t say stuff like that… you…” Regina started to shake, gasping for air in rapid and shallow breaths as her eyes started to water, “you can’t… I c-can’t… I can’t be… with you… you can’t like me… I can’t-t I can’t…” she was hyperventilating. You reached out and tried to hold her shoulders but she shook you off, smacking your hands away. 

“Regina, breathe… breathe…” you reached for her again only to be met with the same resistance, “no, no. Let me.” You leaned across the center console and wrapped your arms around her in a tight hug. 

Regina gripped your forearm in her hands and squeezed hard. Her manicure pressed crescent moons into your skin and her knuckles were white with the force of her grasp, but you only squeezed her tighter and whispered into her ear, “breathe… just breathe… you’re okay… breathe… come on, now… breathe in… and breathe out… in… out…” 

It took a minute but eventually she followed your instructions and her body started to relax. Her breathing slowed. She coughed and took a deep, but shaky, breath. 

You pressed your forehead against her temple and kept your arms around her while she still held tight to you. 

“I can’t do this…” 

“You can’t do what?”

Regina just shook her head in refusal to answer. 

“Regina… what would make you happy?” 

“That doesn’t matter…” 

“Yes it does. That’s the only thing that matters.”

“No… no…” 

“Regina… look at me.” 

She shook her head in defiance.

“Please?” 

She didn’t respond. 

You reached out and gently tucked your index finger beneath her chin, turning her head to face you, “what would make you happy, Regina?” 

She met your eyes, nothing short of terror written in her expression. She thought for a long moment and then whispered, “I’ve never… felt as free… as I felt last night… with you…” 

You nodded, your own expression saddened by the seriousness of her statement. 

She took another shuddering breath in, “but it’s always going to come crashing down…”

“No… no, come on… it doesn’t have to… can we try… can we please try to figure this out? Together?” 

Regina bit her bottom lip and shook her head, fighting back tears, “n-no… I’m sorry… I can’t. I can’t do this.” 

“Regina-“ 

She pushed your arms away again and then cleared her throat as she pulled her visor down and dabbed her eyes and fixed her hair. 

You stared at her in shock. 

She turned the car back on and pulled back out onto the road. 

“Regina… Regina, please.” 

She shook her head, “I’m taking you home. I’m sorry.” 

“This is fine.” 

“But this isn’t anywhere.” 

“It’s close enough.” 

The blonde glanced over at you, about to ask further questions, but then she just nodded and pulled over. 

You unbuckled and grabbed your backpack off the floor of the car and tried to open the door but she hadn’t unlocked it for you yet. 

“I really am sorry.” 

“Forget it, okay?” 

The blonde frowned. 

“Are you gonna let me out or not?” 

Regina clicked the button to unlock the doors and you got out of the car. Before walking away, you looked at her again, “wait, your chemistry quiz…” 

Regina sighed, “I’ll be fine. I… I just wanted you to come over.”

Next Chapter

[fandoms--fluff]

Elijah: What are you doing?

Y/n: You said keep Kol distracted, so I am

Elijah: By throwing a key into the pool?

Y/n: Watch

Y/n: *Throws the key into the pool

Kol: *Immediately swims after it

Elijah: So you're treating him like a dog?

Y/n: ...No, it's not like I'm giving him any treats, and plus he burns off energy

Kol, oblivious: *Brings the key back to you with a smile on his face

[mediumgayitalian]

part one

———

Nico’s memory is…screwy.

The Lethe warped things, but the body stores memory in strange ways. The only image he has of his mother is the gentle swish of her skirts as Zeus incinerated her, the echo of her fond scoff and curled r’s. Even that memory was shown to him. Most of his childhood memories are from the Lotus Casino, really, running after Bianca through the flashing games and then running away from her, laughing, when she forbid him from driving on the racetrack. His sister is the centre of his memories. He keeps them under lock and key, buried in the same place he keeps Mythomagic stats and his constant string of fear.

(The key is rusted and the lock is loose. He sees her in every mirror, now, in every mirror. She was pretty. Beautiful. He always thought so. She hid herself in too-large sweaters and shapeless skirts, crooked stockings and her floppy green hat. Kept her hand curled around his, turned away from the boys who smiled at her, touched her shoulders. She was his entire world, and he is beginning to realize that he was her world, too, only she had no one to care for her. It makes Nico ache to think about, the tears he sometimes saw welling up in her dark eyes, the creases in her angular, beautiful face. Her pain is as familiar in his reflection as the shape of her nose, identical to his.)

(Gorgeous, Will called him.)

Warped as his memories are, Nico isn’t completely stranded — he has dreams.

His dreams, although rare, are clear. He is a spectator of himself, and voyeur of his own life. He does not remember Venice, does not remember his bedroom, the country side, the kitchen table. But he remembers every dream he has.

Including, embarrassingly, a lecture that had both him and Bianca red-cheeked and scowling.

“You-a smart, bambina,” Maria had said to Bianca, squeezing her chin with flour-covered hands. “Una belladonna giovane, si, Niccolò?”

Nico had snickered into his hands, legs kicking, looking at his sister cross-eyed with his tongue sticking out.

“Bianca è una picchia,” Nico had teased, repeating his mother’s words from the last time she’d been scolded. “Una piantagrane!”

Bianca’s eyes had flashed. “Nico, I’m gonna sell your stupido toys —”

“Sonno worries forra my Bianca,” Maria had interrupted, eyebrows raised. “Ragazzi comma running. But you, Niccolò.” She dragged him back by the cuff of his shirt, cutting off his escape attempts. ““È importante, capisci? Lookame. Niccolò. Lookame.”

He spent a lot of time fidgeting, he remembers. Bouncing off the walls.

His mother was patient.

“You gonna be uno marito, un giorno. Gonna marry a nice-a girl. You gotta sai come fate.”

He wakes up from the dream embarrassed.

He knows why it was brought from the depths of his subconscious. He’s not dense. But he wishes, as he rips the sheets off his sweaty body, that it had stayed in those stupid trenches.

His mother’s raspy, cigarette-smoker voice twists with Will’s smooth rumble: You gonna be uno marito, one day. I’ve had a crush on you for forever.

He buries his burning face in his knees. What is Will’s problem. Who says that?

Nico has had crushes before. Telling Percy made him nauseous for three days. And Will just — said it. Said it!

He rolls onto the floor, refusing to think about it any longer. He has things to do today. Children to humble. He cannot afford — distractions.

Of course, he is distracted anyway.

He hears the kids in his sword fighting class whisper to themselves. They usually do, but there’s an audible difference to it; they sound more like the giggling naiads than nervous kids. Nico spends all three of his classes tense as a rod, stiffer than he usually is a suffering for it.

He dismisses each one of his classes early.

By lunchtime, he’s exhausted. He’s tempted to skip all together, but yesterday he ran out of snacks, and if he skips two days in a row Will’ll come marching, which is the last thing he needs. He lingers in the amphitheatre, biting the inside of his thumb, weighing his options. Eat with a crowd of people, go hungry.

In the end, the choice is made for him.

He startled when his name is called by a group of people, each with similar levels of enthusiasm. Leo, Piper, Jason, and Annabeth — Percy is with his mom this week, Nico recalls — approach him, waving.

“We are flagrantly breaking the rules and eating at Jason’s table,” Piper says, smiling. “Sit with us.”

She says it like an offer, but Nico has a feeling it’s more of a command. He nods, hesitantly falling in step with Annabeth.

(His friendship with her startled him. So many years seething with jealousy, simmering with misplaced hate and pain; only to find out she’s stubborn, like he is, and kinda cagey. She knows what it’s like growing up glancing over your shoulder. They stand the same, shoulders loose but knees locked; and eat the same, like they’ll never see food again. She knows when to let him have his silence. He knows when to let her have her space.)

She nods at him, smiling slightly. Her grey hairs are dyed with pink, today. It clashes horribly with her camp shirt. It suits her.

“Kids do alright today?”

“Yeah.”

“Harley blow anything up?”

“Yeah.”

“Impressive, that one.”

Nico smiles. “Yeah.”

They’re the last ones to the dining pavilion. Most tables are already full, conversations rising and lulling, food disappearing from plates. Several people duck close to their friends as they walk by, whispering. Nico pretends not to notice, pretends not to see Annabeth’s frown.

“Nico! Hey! I was just about to come find ya!”

Tripping in his haste to get up from his table — or maybe over his snickering sister’s extended foot — Will bounds up to meet him, hair flopping into his eyes, grin wide and blinding.

Nico’s palms begin to sweat.

“Will,” he acknowledges, after a beat too long.

Will doesn’t seem to notice.

(Everyone else does.)

“Just wanted to let you know that I was up last night digging through the records, and I found a hymn that’ll fix up your face faster. Not that it needs fixing.” He winks, or maybe tries to. What he really does is blink both eyes, beam so bright it forces smile lines. Nico goes bright red. “So just drop by whenever! I’m not on duty today, but it’s cool, just come find me. Better sooner than later, right?”

He doesn’t wait for Nico’s response, already half turned away by the end of his sentence. “See ya!” he shouts, too loud for the limited size of the dining pavilion, already stumbling back to his table, halfway through a new conversation with Austin. He watches him, amused, indulging.

“So,” says a teasing voice, dragging out the vowel, gleeful. Nico turns to find four identical smirks. “He sounded eager.”

“Nope,” Nico says immediately, turning back the way he came. His face continues to grow exponentially more red, which at this point must be some kind of hazard. “Food is overrated. I’m gonna —”

“Oh, no you don’t,” and then there’s a hand clenched in the back of his jacket, pulling, and four echoing cackles, and he’s dragged over to Jason’s table kicking and hissing. “Time for you to spill.”

———

part three

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

It’s become their tradition: when Hogwarts empties of most students for the Christmas break, Harry and Tom spend the quiet, sleepy days of the winter holiday together.

Initially, it was out of lonely, unwanted orphan camaraderie. They had nowhere else to go, no one who wanted to see them – but that was frankly fine by both of them. Tom would rather never see the inside of Wool’s again, and Harry had long given up on figuring out how to make the Dursleys love him. They had both found their first real home at Hogwarts. So, while the buzzing energy of the holidays and discussions of their peers reminded them of the things they did not have, those wounds had scarred over enough by that point that it was more of a dull ache than a sharp, bleeding pain. 

From sharing silent moments as they read or ate together to discovering they had more in common than simply their circumstances, their wary friendship grew over the course of that first holiday break at Hogwarts. When the other students returned, there was a bit of awkwardness of finding how this new connection fit into their respective social landscapes – Tom has never been all that fond of Granger or Weasley, and Harry thinks the social politics of Slytherin are ridiculous, not to mention the typical Gryffindor-Slytherin hostility. 

They weren’t the type of friends to spend every moment together, constantly at each other’s elbow, but they found a way that worked for them. Partnering up in class, sitting quietly at the same table in the library, meeting up for a pre-curfew snack in the kitchens – and spending each winter break in each other’s company, even if they both received invitations to spend the holiday elsewhere. Christmas at Hogwarts was their time.

And so it is that they’re sitting on the windowsill in a seventh-floor corridor, staring out at the freshly fallen snow, glittering under the light of a waxing gibbous moon, when Harry breaks the silence. 

“D’you want to come to bed with me?”

The question causes Tom to still. 

“There’s no one else who stayed behind, as usual, so the dorm is empty,” Harry continues on, oblivious. “Don’t have to worry about anyone being weird about your being there.”

Tom had felt it, how things were changing between them. How, this year, their shared glances had a different energy. Like everything was building to something. And he knew that they’d be able to spend long, uninterrupted days together over the holidays, without their respective groups to give them grief about spending time with someone from the enemy House.

He’d known there was a chance this was where that change might lead them. He just hadn’t wanted to accept it.

But Tom has a reputation, and certainly Harry knows it. So of course Harry would expect that from him – expect Tom to want it – if Tom has done that with other people.

And Harry is the only person Tom has ever wanted to keep. Harry understands him in ways no one else has ever bothered to try. (He had hoped Harry would understand this implicitly, but that was perhaps too much to ask.) There is little he wouldn’t do to tie Harry to him, to ensure Harry never leaves – never wants to leave, never even considers it. If this is the cost, he can bear it.

In comparison to the other things he’s gained through his looks and his body, Harry is much more precious, infinitely more dear. Power at the whims of another is what he can barter for now, but it won’t always be that way. Soon, he will hold his own power, an endless amount of it, and he will make others regret treating him as lesser than.

Giving this to Harry– no. Doing this with Harry is nothing like his previous sexual experiences. It’s not a degradation.

(But it does appear to be a necessity.)

His mind has been running as they walk back to the empty Gryffindor sixth year boys’ dorm together. He sees the coy, nervous smile Harry gives him over his shoulder as they reach the dorm door; he returns it with a confident one that he doesn’t quite feel.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks as he leads Tom through the door, closing and locking it behind them.

Perhaps his lacking bravado is more apparent than he’d hoped. Before Tom can decide whether or not to push Harry against the closed door and kiss him, the other boy is walking over to the bed Tom knows is Harry’s and pulling the curtains open.

As he climbs onto the bed, Harry begins shucking his clothes in a flurry. He’s now down to his shorts and a long-sleeve shirt, staring up at Tom curiously. “Planning to wear all that?” Harry asks. 

This isn’t how he usually does things. His rhythm’s all thrown off, though he should’ve expected Harry would act differently than his other partners. So Tom removes his shoes, socks, trousers, and jumper as quickly as he can without appearing to rush. Harry doesn’t seem to want a show, thankfully. Tom’s not sure whether he could manage much in the way of seduction at the moment.

Tom gets on the bed and sits next to Harry, who’s reclining against a pillow tilted up against the headboard.

And now that he’s here, he’s freezing up. He can’t afford to ruin this, he can’t lose Harry. So he pushes through his hesitation and leans down to capture Harry’s lips in a kiss that has melted the minds (and inhibitions) of several other students. He’s putting his all into this, trying to focus on the fact that this is Harry, he wants Harry, this is okay. He never has to persuade himself with the others, it’s so unfair he has to work so hard to do this for Harry.

“–Tom?” Harry asks a bit breathlessly as he pulls his mouth away with a soft ‘pop.’ “What are you doing?”

Fuck, fuck, this is not happening. “I thought it was rather obvious,” he husks, trying to sound as seductive and interested as possible.

“Not the– I know you were kissing me, you berk.” Harry huffs a laugh. “I was asking why you were kissing me.”

Oh. Oh, this is all going wrong in a different way, and in addition to that he’s confused, and he hates being confused. “Typically people enjoy a bit of foreplay before they have sex,” he says, and he can’t entirely keep his defensive anger from leaking into his tone.

“Sex?!” Harry yelps, then covers his mouth with his hands despite them being the only people in the dorm. He whisper-shouts, “Sex? Who said anything about sex?”

Tom’s brow furrows in irritation. “You asked me to come to bed–”

“To sleep!” Harry barely keeps from shouting once again. “Just to sleep.”

He blinks. “Sleep,” he repeats, feeling wrong-footed.

“Uh, yeah, though now that I think about it, I guess I can see where you misunderstood…”

“You ‘guess’?” Tom hisses, incensed. “I misunderstood? Harry, that’s what people say when they intend to have sex!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know? You never seemed interested in that sort of thing, I didn’t think I had to specify–”

Tom wonders, not for the first time, how someone can be both so observant and painfully oblivious.

“Harry,” he says, a little frustrated with how this entire evening has gone. “You do realise I’ve had sex before, yes?”

“Uh, yeah, I have eyes.” As if to demonstrate this, he rolls them hard enough that Tom can barely see their bright green irises.

Cheeky little shit. “Then, why–”

“I’m not completely daft, Tom. I’ve seen how you look at the people you’ve slept with,” Harry says, sounding almost offended. “It’s the same way Ron looks at chess pieces – like they serve a particular purpose and you're thinking of the best way to move them around to get what you want.” 

That was concerningly accurate. He’d never thought of Harry as unintelligent, but perhaps he’d underestimated how sharp he could be.

“When you look at me, it's different. At least, that’s what I think.”

Tom huffs. “I should never have doubted you, darling.”

“That’s right, you shouldn’t,” Harry says. “So don’t doubt me now. Tell me: what do you want?”

“I– it’s not as simple as that,” he insists, because it isn’t. Harry doesn’t understand, and it rankles, because why is this where his understanding fails?

“I never thought I’d see the day I have to demand to know what you want,” Harry says, a bit amused and a little disbelieving. 

Because it’s you, he thinks. It matters – I’m trying to compromise – because it’s you.

“Come on, Tom, just tell me,” Harry wheedles.

Here goes nothing. He’s already holding his breath when he says, hoarsely, “I don’t want to have sex.”

“With me?” Harry asks evenly, unreadably.

“With anyone,” he clarifies.

Harry’s eyes almost glow in anger as he leans up on his elbow, and Tom slips his wand into his hand just in case. “Have people been forcing you–” 

“No, no, nothing like that. As if they could,” Tom says, releasing some of the tension in his body, amused by Harry’s willingness to play knight in shining armour for him. “Sex is a tool to use when it’s the most expedient way to get what I want. It’s not something to which I attach emotions or any real pleasure, nor is it something I want to have purely for the sake of it.”

He’s known this for himself for quite some time, but this is the first time he’s said it aloud for someone else. Someone whose opinion matters. He finds himself wincing a bit at the clinical tone, even though it is accurate to how he feels. Harry is a creature of emotion far more than Tom is, and he doesn’t always agree with Tom’s way of seeing things.

“Oh,” Harry says. “Okay.”

Tom watches Harry warily. He doesn’t sound upset, but… “Okay…?”

“Yeah, that’s fine by me,” Harry says easily. “If you don’t want to have sex, we won’t have sex.”

That is far too calm a reaction, unless Harry likes him less than he’d previously thought. “Not just tonight – I don’t want to have sex ever, probably.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Harry says with a grin. “S’fine.”

“But. This,” Tom says quietly, indicating the bed between them. “This can’t be enough for you.”

Harry sets his jaw mulishly. “I can decide for myself what’s enough for me and what I want. And I’m trusting you to do the same. So don’t ever force yourself to do something because you think I want it,” he adds, voice tapering off towards the end into something a little desperate-sounding. “I want you, Tom. Not whatever you think I should want.”

Tom swallows hard. “What if you change your mind?”

“What if I don't?” Harry says pointedly, before exhaling loudly and adding, “Sorry, I don't mean to be dismissive. If this was the first time I was finding out you didn’t want to have sex with me, yeah, I’d probably be pretty torn up,” he allows with a shrug. “But I’ve had time to think about it, and what I want, and I decided a while back that I wouldn’t mind never having sex, if it meant I could be with you.” 

Tom stares. He can’t help it. He can hardly tell which way is up anymore.

“But that’s enough about that.” Harry asks, again, “What do you want?”

After a moment, Tom says, hushed, “I want to sleep in this bed with you.” Honesty is easier when spoken softly in the dark. He braces himself for mockery, for disappointment, because, no matter what he says, surely Harry expects more than this. Tom has a reputation, after all.

But Harry only asks, voice warm, “Anything else?”

“I…” This leaves him feeling a little too vulnerable, but he pushes through. “I want to hold your hand.”

After a moment, Harry rests his hand on the bed halfway between them and wiggles his fingers. Slowly, Tom reaches out and rests the palm of his hand against the palm of Harry’s, carefully intertwining their fingers. Harry hums contentedly and squeezes their joined fingers gently. 

When Tom looks back at Harry’s face, he is smiling with a light flush of colour in his cheeks. “Good?” he asks.

Tom tries to say ‘yes’ but it feels like there’s something blocking his throat, so he nods instead.

Harry nods once in return before he takes off his glasses awkwardly with his left hand and sets them on the headboard shelf. He looks over, eyes just a bit out of focus, and says, “G’night, Tom.”

Tom squeezes Harry’s hand a good deal harder, prompting Harry to tighten his hold in turn. “Good night, Harry.” If his voice shakes a little, Harry doesn’t mention it.

[saphrun]

Geto is a mitski fan and makes Gojo listen to her when he’s having depressive episodes. Also in this Gojo is fully convinced he’s straight and trying to get over his crush while Suguru is playing 4d chess and wooing him

[hairmetal666]

They start kissing on stage as a joke.

The night before the first time, they're at an afterparty, pounding shots, and Eddie is reading aloud a piece that just came out in Rolling Stone. "'One of the most noteworthy parts of Munson and Harrington's unlikely pairing is their chemistry on stage. It's like these two men--one on his way to being the latest metal god, the other an indie rock wunderkind--are two parts of one musical whole. Their singing, their playing, even their bodies twine and flow with assuredness; where one goes, the other follows without question. They share a single brain-cell and that cell is music'."

Steve giggles, pours some more Grey Goose into the glass. "If they say that now, could you imagine what would happen if we, like, kissed on stage or something."

"What the fuck, Harrington?" Eddie splutters, having just thrown a drink back.

"I don't know, other bands do it!"

Eddie snorts. "I'm cutting you off." He reaches for the bottle and the suggestion is forgotten for wrestling over the liquor.

Steve barely remembers it in the morning. Doesn't think about it at all as he gets ready to go out on stage.

They're playing one of the instrumental breakdowns when it happens. They're leaning into each other, Eddie smiling over his shoulder at him, their eyes locked, bodies moving together. "You wanna?" Eddie mouths at him.

Steve nods before the question actually registers and by then Eddie's warm, soft mouth is against his and he just-- completely forgets what he's doing. His hands still on the guitar strings, and he melts a little, going completely boneless when Eddie grips the back of his head, pulls him deeper into the kiss. t's over almost as quickly as it started, Eddie pulling away and swirling to the mic to start the next verse.

The kiss sinks into Steve's bones, and that's before it becomes a regular feature of their performances. After that night, they're never at the same time during the show, all initiated by Eddie, all over before he can catch his breath; each one chaste and surrounded by people but somehow more intimate than any make out.

He and Eddie, they're friends, bandmates, collaborators. They've known each other since they first started out, forging an immediate connection with they stumbled upon each other hiding out in the garden at some industry bigwig's party. And as much as he loved his friend, never once in that time had Steve considered wanting Eddie.

But now, now he falls asleep with the ghost of Eddie on his lips, goes into each show with a thrum of anticipation, catches himself thinking how beautiful his friend is when he's all rumpled and disheveled from a night in the tour bus bunks.

They've always been easy with physical affection, but once the kissing starts they're constantly in each other's space, idly playing with hair, laying across laps, heads on shoulders, twisting together on the tour bus couch. Steve is ruined with every touch, every moment; he can't get enough.

The first time Eddie uses tongue destroys every last piece of Steve's composure. They've added a new song to the setlist, a remixed version of Eddie's hit "Prince Charming". It's hard, heavy, sexy, one of Steve's favorites. And in the middle of it, right in the middle, Eddie shoves him against a low platform, kisses him like he's trying to own him, tongues twining eager and wet and full of sinful promise. It's like that every show after, Eddie kissing him deep and thorough, like he's trying to lick up every drop of Steve.

He is, unquestionably, fucked. Unquestionably falling. Can't properly fathom how he'd gotten himself here, desperate for Eddie's kiss, as performative as it may be.

They're packing up equipment after a show. Eddie's hair is piled in a messy bun and Steve is trying not to blatantly stare at the curve of his neck, the stray curls against his pale skin. Eddie's gesturing at something, says, "Can you grab those cords, swee--Steve?" He hands them over without thought, notices that Eddie's face is shining red. He's called away to deal with packing the guitars, forgets all about it, but at their next show, Eddie doesn't kiss him.

They don't talk about it.

Eddie doesn't try to kiss him again.

A week after Eddie stops the kiss, they have a night off between shows. He needs to get out of his head, goes out with Robin. He gets back fairly early, but all the lights are off in the bus. It makes him panic in a way it shouldn't; they've always done their own things. Still, he rushes on board, flips on the lights, his absurd heart beating too hard.

Eddie is curled up on the couch, face pressed to the pillows and covered with his hands. The panic kicks up a notch.

"Eddie?" He steps closer, slowly reaching out to grip Eddie's shoulder.

He jerks upright, earbuds slipping free, phone sliding down his hip. "Steve?"

His face is wet, tears actively slipping free from his eyes as Steve watches.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" His hands flutter around Eddie's arms and face, searching for bruises or wounds.

"I'm fine, Harrington," he chokes out. "Though you were out with Robin?"

"Yeah, I was, but Chrissy called. You know how useless she gets. But that doesn't--you--you're crying. What's wrong?"

Eddie's smile is a wobbly little thing, refusing to stick on his face. "Oh, you know, the usual. Fell for the wrong guy."

Steve forces down the gut churning hurt at hearing that Eddie's in love with someone, intent on comforting his friend. He tries to slip his arm around Eddie's shoulders, but Eddie shrugs him off. It jostles Eddie's phone again, slipping it toward Steve and activating the screen. He has a split second where he's looking at the cover of his own first album, before Eddie's snatching it out of reach, scrambling up from the couch.

"I'm fine." He swipes his sleeve over his face. "It's nothing."

And Steve is putting it all together, the being in love and listening to Steve's music, the kissing and how it ended.--

"Eddie." He sounds all wrong, choked and garbled.

Eddie doesn't turn around, is stuffing his feet into his boots. "I'm--I gotta go clear my head."

He walks towards the door and Steve just--"I've been obsessed with you since the first kiss," he says. Eddie stops, hand curled against the door. "We've been friends all this time and I didn't--I never realized. And then we kissed and--it's all I've been able to think about."

Eddie turns then, facing him, expression unreadable."Steve, what are you--"

"I love you. I'm in love with you." It comes out fast, all jumbled, but he can't stand Eddie leaving, not now.

"You--?" Eddie blinks, bites his lip. "That's not possible."

Steve smiles, can't help it. "It is, though. Turns out, I can't get enough."

Their eyes lock; neither speaks. Steve's heart pounds so hard it might spring free of his chest. Eddie moves first, crosses the small distance between them to pull Steve into his arms.

It's not a kiss, but Steve buries his face against Eddie's neck, breathing him in, feeling the echo to the pound of his own heart. "How long?" Steve asks.

Eddie's soft laugh vibrates through him. "Since I saw you walking in that garden and thought, 'jesus christ, Prince Charming is real'."

Steve pulls away to stare at Eddie in disbelief. "But that's--your--the song?"

"They're kinda all about you, Stevie. But that one most of all." Eddie whispers. His eyes glisten.

"Fuck, Eddie." He doesn't mean to whine, but he's not in control of his voice anymore. "I'm sorry I didn't--" He shakes his head. "I'm all yours, Ed. Whatever you want."

Eddie's thumb catches against Steve's bottom lips, eyes transfixed on his mouth. "Everything, sweetheart. I want it all."

[autisticlancemcclain]

prev

“This your place?” Keith asked, panting.

His host raised his eyebrow, pushing open the door.

“No,” he deadpanned, “this is my annoying neighbour’s house. He’s on holidays. I’m staying here and using all his things to take revenge for hours of small talk.”

“Oh,” Keith replied, impressed. “Cool.” He’ll have to do that next time Lance is on a solo mission. 

“No, I’m – I’m kidding, Paladin.”

“Oh,” Keith repeated, disappointed. “Less cool.”

“Just – get in the house.”

Keith didn’t argue. He followed his host into the small building, nodded as he was pointed to a guest room, and passed out the second his head hit the straw-stuffed pillow.

— — —

When Keith woke, it was dark outside. A scarred face was looming over his, and he bit back a scream, hand flying for his knife on reflex. 

“Peace, Paladin,” said Ares, holding up a hand. “I startled you. I did not mean to. It’s time for the feast. 

Keith slumped. His heart slowed from its jackrabbit pace. “Yeah. Yeah, man, thanks. I’ll be right out.”

His host nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Keith took one minute to calm himself, closing his eyes and counting his breaths. Once sixty seconds passed, he stood, glancing down at his armour. 

That was…fine, right?

They always wore their armour to diplomacy missions. Well, mostly because Keith threw a massive hissy fit the second Coran attempted to force him into the worst, most restrictive suit he’d ever seen. His armour was battered, unpolished, and honestly kind of rank, but it wasn’t like he had many other options. He held out his helmet, inspecting himself in the reflection of his visor.

Shiro would tell him to brush his hair.

Too bad he didn’t have a hairbrush. 

He walked out of his room, shrugging. His host was waiting for him by the small hearth in the middle of the house, standing as Keith approached. 

“Shall we make our leave?”

“Sure.”

He followed his host back out of the little house. They walk in silence. Keith’s feet begin to hurt by the five minute mark – he has no idea how long he slept, but it was not long enough, and exhaustion still pulled at his frame. 

Dryope had mentioned food, though. And something like a party, but one lucky thing about Ares – he doesn’t seem to be much of a partier, either, so hopefully Keith could ditch that bright and early and go right back to sleep. 

They walked along the same hills Keith’s host had led them down earlier, only this time they were going up, so it was worse. Thankfully, though, the walk was just barely shorter – they weren’t walking back to the beach, but to the hearth, the big fire pit Keith noticed walking in. All the houses they passed were empty, not even a light by the window.

“Is everyone at the – party, thing, whatever?” Keith panted.

Ares eyed him briefly, not pausing his stride. “Look for yourself.”

They crested the top of the hill, and Keith’s jaw dropped. 

The hearth was blazing. The flame burned so brightly and hugely that Keith was half-convinced it was out of control. Surrounding it in hundreds of chattering groups was every single Aegian, tall and wide and small, smiling and laughing. As he watched, an Aegian called something in a language Keith couldn’t understand, and immediately dozens of the tree-warriors rushed up to join hands in a big ring around the fire, twirling and dancing as the watching Aegians chanted and sang. 

Keith’s first thought was, Aren’t these guys made of wood?

His second thought was, This looks like a hippie commune. Time to ditch.

Unfortunately Ares caught him before he could go right back the way they can, spinning him around and shoving him down the hill.

“Real hospitable,” Keith grumbled.

His host seemed, as much as such a scary person could look, amused. “On you go, Paladin.”

Keith stomped on. He probably could take Ares in a fight, at least normally, but he was exhausted and injured and weak. Plus, if he was the reason behind yet another failed diplomatic mission, Lance would gleefully hold it over his head for weeks, and Shiro would be disappointed if Keith finally killed him. Plus, Allura would be upset with him, and having Allura upset with you kind of feels like taking a kitten that loves and trusts you and drop kicking it into the sun. Very quickly, you realise that you are the scum of the Earth and the worst person alive. It’s generally just something you should avoid.

As he trudged down the hill, he quickly recognised three familiar suits of armour. They were kind of hard to miss – even as scuffed as they were, they glinted in the light of the massive fire, shining like a bunch of precious stones. Pidge, sulking somewhere near a table of desserts; Hunk, chatting with his host; and Shiro, speaking with the Aegian leader like the tryhard little teacher’s pet he was. Coran stuck out, too, in his bright blue Altean uniform that was somehow pristine even though Keith watched him get flung at a wall and shocked by a bare wire from the broken control centre back on the dead castle. 

All the Aegians wore some kind of bedsheet, or their Tinkerbell clothes. Interestingly, the dryads were not the only Aegians present – there were others who looked a little more human, although they had plenty of strange features that reminded Keith they were not. A group of laughing girls looked like they were made from the bottom of a pool in the sunlight, skin shifting with dappled light. Several guys walked around with half a donkey hanging out of their drawers. Keith spotted some honest-to-God centaurs. One girl appeared to be made out of blowing, spinning wind. 

Hundreds of eyes seemed to follow Keith as he joined the crowd, glancing at him and then back at their friends, whispering to themselves. Keith shrunk into himself, letting his hair fall in front of his eyes – no one looked mad, or angry, or cruel, but no one looked exactly welcoming, either. Ares had disappeared at some point, not that he was what Keith would consider a friendly face. 

Keith needed to find someone he knew, stat. 

His first instinct was Pidge – the two of them usually slunked in some corner together whenever they were forced (often at gunpoint, thanks, Lance) to some stupid party. They had a running game called How Many People Can We Convince That Barking Is A Polite Human Greeting Before Shiro Finds Out. So far their score was 135-149, Pidge in the lead. (Keith very much intended to catch up.) But before he could make it over to where she was hiding, a group of water-girls descended upon her like a pack of piranhas, giggling and shouting something about braiding and eye makeup. Keith decided he would rather chew off his right hand than put himself anywhere near that, and did an abrupt 180 in search of Hunk.

Unfortunately, the big guy was still preoccupied. His host – Elijah (or something, Keith would be reminded of his real name eventually) – was showing him some kind of metal box that opened to a bunch of intricately placed gears and bobbles and wires. Hunk was staring at it like the Holy Grail. Not even Keith’s best pleading eyes and sad orphan story would convince him to babysit Keith and glare at anyone who attempted to socialise. Another dead end.

Keith sighed. That really only left –

“Hey, squirt!”

Keith went bright red, cringing with his whole entire body. He loved his brother, he really, truly did, but Shiro was as out of depth as he was at stuff like this and tended to overcompensate by being affectionate. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, except he had a bad case of Foot In Mouth Disease and knew Keith at his most embarrassing early teenage emo. 

So.

“Hey, Shiro,” he said stiffly, trying not to die inside as the man pressed a smacking kiss right in the centre of his forehead.

A tall, handsome guy somewhere to their left raised his eyebrows, smiling with amusement. Keith thought he could die. Sometimes, he thought his brother was secretly a forty-six year old suburban mom of three.

“We missed you!” cried his embarrassing brother. He was so genuine about it, it was hard not to smile back at him. “You took so long getting here!”

“My host’s place is at the farthest corner of the city,” Keith explained. “Had to hike here. Thought I was gonna bite it by mile six.”

Shiro snorted. “Drama queen.”

“Yeah, yeah. You try hiking after getting shaken around like a bobblehead. I bet your place is, like, twenty feet away from here.”

“Pretty much,” Shiro agreed, smile turning into more of a smirk. He attempted to dig his knuckles into Keith’s skull, but Keith was well used to his brand of crap and squirmed away at the last second. “Akeso’s sorta the main healer around here – at least I think? They’re not much of a talker – so they live in this building that’s attached to the infirmary. One of the big buildings in the inner circle.”

He pointed to one of the more rectangular buildings Keith had seen on the way in, with a much smaller, rounder building attached to it like one of those suction fish on a shark. It was hard to make out many details in the dark, fire’s light only able to stretch so far, but it looked pretty infirmary-ish.

“Hunk’s staying near the forges. He loves it, you should talk to him about it. He’s all cute and excited, you know that look he gets. Elatreus is impressed with him, practically made him an assistant.”

Elatreus! That’s the host’s name. And Keith absolutely knew what look Shiro’s talking about – the wide brown eyes, clasped hands, talking a mile a minute. He smiled softly. Nothing better for the soul like watching an ecstatic Hunk. 

“That’s good. Glad he’s happy.” 

“Yep. And Pidge is in a regular house like you, little more in-city. Next to some kind of trap shop? I don’t totally get it. Apparently Dysnomia needs a lot of supplies. Pidge was being all sketch about it.”

“That’s not super reassuring.”

“It is not!” Shiro agreed. He led Keith to one of the many tables laid out, absolutely covered in food. Keith realised he was ravenous, piling up a plate at least a foot high with meats and breads and foods he couldn’t even identify, but that smelt positively godly. At Shiro’s raised eyebrow, he rolled his eyes and selected a single vegetable. 

“Make sure you toss some in the fire,” Shiro advised.

Keith squinted at him. “I’m…not gonna do that, thanks.”

“No, no, you have to.”

He pointed to the edge of the fire, where, sure enough, some Aegians were scraping the edge of their plates into the flames.

Keith wrinkled his nose. “The hell are they burning their food for? What a waste!”

Shiro shrugged, stepping into the line. “Akeso said it’s an old tradition, something that their ancestors felt protected them and gave them good will and peace. No one really wants to mess with that mojo, so. Portion of the food is sacrificed.”

Keith would be less pressed about it if the food didn’t look and smell so good. Scraping perfectly good food into fire felt like spending hours polishing a sword only to scratch it three seconds later – effort for no reason. When it was their turn, though, Keith did as the custom dictated. He’d learned enough about questioning weird traditions. 

He held eye contact with Shiro and flicked his one vegetable into the flames. Delightfully, his brother’s eye twitched, like he was considering shoving Keith into them. Suddenly, this custom was Keith’s favourite he’d ever been forced to partake in. 

By the time they finally sat somewhere to eat, Keith was so hungry he was ready to eat his fingers along with the food. He inhaled his food for a good five or six minutes, ignoring Shiro’s attempts first at conversation, then at slowing him down. 

“Christ, kid,” he said, voice tinged with either horror or awe. Maybe both. “Eating like I never fed you in your life.”

“You haven’t,” Keith replied around a rib of some kind. “Adam fed me. You made ash of everything you touched.”

Shiro’s expression soured. He poked sullenly at some kind of leaf. (Serves him right for trying to be some kinda health freak now that he’s in charge. Keith once watched him eat an entire Costco sheet cake at three in the morning, and that had been his first and only meal of the day. Keith enjoyed bringing it up every time Shiro preached about the benefits of salad and watching him just start screeching to drown Keith out. Good times.) 

“I didn’t turn everything to ash, you ungrateful brat. I made muffins that one time!”

You microwaved an already cooked muffin, Keith thought, wisely choosing to eat some kind of rice dish instead of bringing it up. And it tasted like erasers afterr. So.

“Sure, Shiro.”

Shiro nodded, satisfied. He picked up the leaf, sprinkled with some…orange thing, maybe, Keith couldn’t tell exactly, and took a delicate bite. He looked less satisfied.

“So,” he said, setting down his plate like he was looking for an excuse not to eat it. He looked at Keith expectantly. “You must want an update on Allura.”

Keith blinked. “Oh, shoot, yeah. I didn’t see her. She good?”

“Yeah, from what we can tell. When we got to the infirmary, Akeso stitched up my knee, then we –”

“You had a knee injury?” Keith interrupted. “You should have said something!”

Shiro smiled gently. “I got it treated, dork.” He bumped their shoulders together, trying to ease Keith’s upset expression. “I’m fine, okay? If Akeso didn’t bring it up, I would have. Promise. It wasn’t too bad, anyway, I swear.”

Keith frowned harder. He had noticed Shiro shifting slightly when they were first confronted by Dryope and her army, but Shiro had walked away without limping, so he’d allowed himself to stop worrying. A stupid mistake, and one he should know better than making. He knows his stupidly self-sacrificial brother. 

“Keith, seriously,” Shiro assured. He leaned down, unlatching his thigh and knee braces, then pulled back the rip in his undersuit. Keith wasn’t comforted by the size of the rip – nor the placement of it – but the wound didn’t look too bad, and was stitched neatly. Some kind of salve was spread all over it, under the clear wound dressing. As he watched, the wound seemed to contract, shrinking ever so slightly.

“Healing magic,” Shiro explained, putting his armour back. He patted Keith’s shoulder. “Akeso is super practiced at it. They stitched me up but warned that overdoing magic healing is as bad as cheating death, so it’ll still take a couple weeks to heal fully. Just won’t hurt so bad and might heal a little faster than with just stitches.”

“That why Allura is still out?” Keith clarified, finally letting go of the tension in his shoulders. Shiro looked relieved. “No speedy magic?”

Shiro nodded. “Exactly. After Akeso stitched me up we went to go visit Rhea, check on Allura. She’s tucked in this massive bed-nest thing, snoring away. She’s fine. Just super drained and needs all the rest she can. She’s in good hands.”

Relief punches out of Keith like a physical force. It’s one thing if his friends are injured, a whole other if they’re unconscious – but with Shiro’s assurance as well as Coran’s confidence earlier, he can relax. The two of them can read people like no one else on the ship – except maybe Lance. She’ll be fine.

“Speaking of Lance,” Keith said.

“No one brought up Lance except your own brain,” Shiro responded patiently. That infernal smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. 

Keith went red, barrelling right on. “Where is he? This stuff is right up his alley, I figured he’d be out twirling until he passes out in the punch or something.”

Shiro frowned, looking at him funny. “He is? He’s been over –”

Just then, the music that had been playing in the background changed – there was a collective inhale, then all the instruments played something at once. Keith didn’t know much about music, but the something felt intentional, deeply so. A song was beginning, rather than endless background music.

Excited murmuring moved in waves throughout the gathered Aegians. People started shifting. High above everything else, loud and excited, rang a disbelieving laugh – a very familiar laugh.

Keith whipped his head up, roll dropping from his hand and bouncing into the dirt. At the edge of the crowd, lit softly by the orange golden flames, was Lance – but it was no wonder Keith had missed him before. He wasn’t wearing his armour.

He was wearing a dress!

Well, not really a dress. One of those ancient Greek toga things, that looks like a droopy bedsheet. Keith had noticed it on several – almost all, in fact – of the Aegians; a draped, white garment, cinched in the waist, pinned at the shoulders. It hadn’t looked anything special on them. 

Lance, though, wore it like it had been made for him. Maybe it had. Most Aegians wore the toga-thing pinned at both shoulders, but Lance’s was only gathered at one, the rest of it falling artfully on his chest, looking dangerously like it was about to fall off. The cinched golden rope acting as a belt made his waist look downright tiny, like someone could pick him up around his middle and throw him, or something. It wasn’t crazy short, or anything, but Lance surely didn’t wear it down to his toes, like some others did. A pair of simple brown sandals wrapped all the way up his calves. 

There were actual freaking laurels in his hair, along with what Keith could only assume were gold threads, wrapped around a few tiny, careful braids. A golden bracelet wrapped around his bicep, contrasting with his many Earth-made bracelets and anklets, and his plastic blue Moana watch that he never took off. 

“He looks ridiculous!” Keith cried. 

Shiro tried poorly not to laugh. “I think he looks nice!”

“He looks like a freaking Roman statue!”

The music started to swell, and Lance reached out to grab an offered hand, and suddenly Keith’s blood went cold. 

“What is he doing all over Lance,” he hissed.

Shiro raised his eyebrows. “His…host?” 

“Hosting immoral thoughts, maybe!” Keith protested. Shiro choked on his drink. “Look at his damn hand! Gripping Lance’s waist like there’s a magnet involved! What’s he want, to pick Lance up like a prize and show him around, or something? What a creep!”

But Lance wasn’t scowling, or even using his polite I-hate-you-and-can’t-wait-to-talk-crap-about-you-to-my-friends smile. He was just smiling, and concentrating hard on his feet, wrapping his own hands all over Mr. Creep. As the music got more complicated, they started dancing. 

“What’s your deal with Peithos?” Shiro questioned. “What’s he –”

Keith ignored him. “And they have some kinda dance prepared? He’s supposed to be helping Lance recover, not teaching him a dance! How long have we been here for?”

Shiro finally sighed, giving up on his questioning. He watched the dancing duo, although with significantly less (zero) animosity than Keith. 

“‘Bout ten hours? Give or take.”

“Ten ho – ten hours,” Keith said, stumbling over his words. He tore his eyes away and stared at his brother, alarmed. “We’ve been here ten whole hours? I thought it was, like, three!”

Shiro nodded, taking a long sip out of his cup. “Yep. Surprised the heck outta me, too. Went for a nap after checking on Allura, and boom, sun’s down, Akeso’s waking me up, and my leg hardly hurts anymore. Exhausted sleep is sleep, man, I feel you. Pidge, Hunk, and Coran knocked out, too. Only Lance stayed up. That’s why he’s not in armour. And why he knows this dance, apparently.” He nudged Keith’s shoulder, expression suddenly much more solemn. “You know how he is with sleep.”

Keith softened. He turned back to the blue paladin with a sigh, watching the half-Aegian twirl him around. The music got faster and faster and the man grabbed Lance around the waist and lifted him, twirling them both like it was easy as pie. Lance threw his head back and laughed, cheeks flushed and nose squinted like it does when he’s really laughing. 

“Yeah, I know. Still, though. I don’t trust that guy. Too friendly. And Lance is too comfortable.”

“That’s fair.” Shiro was staring at him, too. “I don’t really trust many people here, actually. I think Rhea is trustworthy. And Elatreus. The other people, I can’t say yet. But Dryope…”

He turned to glance at the leader, who watched the festivities over the rim of an ornate glass. She sat on a carved rock, her father next to her. The rock-seat to her right was left empty. Keith could guess who it was for. 

“There’s something they’re not telling us,” Keith finished, nodding. “Agreed.”

He turned back to look at Lance and Peithos. The song had ended, but they were still standing close to the fire, bent close. Lance was gesturing like crazy, smile lighting up his face. Peithos was intently watching his every move. 

“We’ll keep an eye on them,” Shiro promised. His smile was small and reassuring. Keith glanced at the half-Aegian, then back at his brother, nodding slowly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think we should.”

After the weird dance, the party started to die down. People slowly started to head out, first in singles, then in couples, then in large swathes. Pidge was one of the first to make her getaway. Keith looked around for his host, but couldn’t manage to land his eyes on him. He hoped he hadn’t already left – he had no clue how to get back to his guest room in the dark, and wasn’t super pumped about sleeping on the ground if it came to that. 

“You know where the house is?” Keith overheard Peithos murmur, so close to Lance there wasn’t a place they weren’t touching. 

Lance grinned up at him. “Yep! I’ll meet you there, don’t worry about me. Go do what you need to do.”

The half-Aegian smiled gratefully at him, then rushed off.

Some host, Keith thought bitterly.

His glare was apparently pretty pungent, because now that Lance’s distraction was gone, he looked over quickly. He brightened, jogging over.

“Keith! Hey! I haven’t seen you all night.”

“Yeah, wonder why,” muttered Keith sullenly.

“I hope you –” Lance frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Keith repeated, mocking. He rolled his eyes. Unfortunately he still managed to notice the expression on Lance’s face – wounded, not mad. He faltered. 

That wasn’t how their arguments were supposed to go. “You know what it means,” he insisted, but it sounded unconfident even to his own ears.

“I really, really don’t. I looked for you earlier, I couldn’t find you when everyone else –”

“You looked?” Keith asked incredulously. “I couldn’t’ve pried your eyes away from Tall, Dark, and Handsome if I plucked them out of your head!”

Lance’s already-present flush exploded out of control, so bright Keith could see it even in the dying embers of the hearth. “I wasn’t – he’s not – you’re not – what are you talking about!” he finally managed, tripping over his words in a way he usually didn’t. “Peithos and I were just – were just – we were only dancing! He taught me the Spring Dance, earlier, when he was showing – showing – me the wildflower fields, and –”

Keith narrowed his eyes. He realised for the first time that Lance was swaying, slightly, and even as he talked himself out of his embarrassment, the red didn’t totally fade from his face, staying high on his cheeks. 

“– I don’t know what your problem is, I swear, every time I have fun you live to ruin it. Gods, can’t I even have – have – have one thing, I just –”

He kept tripping over his words, like his tongue wasn’t working with him. Keith frowned harder.

“Lance, are you – drunk?”

“What? No!”

That Lance said clearly. He whirled on Keith with a new layer of clarity in his eyes, dark like pits and absolutely flashing in fury. 

“You think,” he seethed, stepping forward, “that I am so freaking irresponsible, so absolutely stupid and idiotic, that I would get intoxi – intoxish – intoxicat –”

He couldn’t even say the words. Keith stared at him in alarm, because he raised a good point – Lance liked to pretend, but he really wasn’t irresponsible like that. Keith had never heard him swear. He went to bed at the same time every night. As far as he knew, he’d never actually touched a drop of alcohol in his life – it would be out of character for him to get wasted at a diplomatic mission, late at night, when they were separated and wary. 

Something was not right.

“Lance, I think you should maybe –”

“Gods, you ruin – you ruin everything.” Lance blinked, hard, then glared at Keith, shoving off the steadying hand Keith had placed on his elbow and stumbling backwards. He held his gaze for several moments, absolutely glowering, and then – to Keith’s great horror – his brown eyes watered. Tears built up faster than he could wipe them away, tracing a line down his cheek. Keith staggered backwards.

“I hate you sometimes,” he said, and ran off. 

Keith watched him go, aftertaste of the delicious food turning sour in his mouth.

— — —

all art by @jiveyuncle!!

next

[maidenborn]

Detective Love-struck! a new lead

part three of Detective Love-struck! , Part two here! Shoto x reader in which fem!Reader discovers a second clue towards uncovering her secret admirer!

Word count: 3,467

Todoroki Shoto didn't stay in your dorm room long, claiming he wanted to 'go to bed early' because of 'training tomorrow.' A sensible idea you thought. Much unlike your own sleeping habits, you'd often get so wound up in your own thoughts, that you end up falling asleep in the early hours of the morning. You soon came to realise tonight was no different.

You had just turned over onto your other side for the umpteenth time in the past half hour. It was currently midnight, to your dismay. You dread how you would feel in the morning. Your legs were restless and you could not, for the life of you, get comfortable in any position you rolled into. You growled into your pillow, giving up hope on sleeping at all. You sluggishly reached over to grab your phone, seething at the sudden flash bang, working your finger desperately to lower the brightness.

*one unread message*

Sho ᐢᗜᐢ : Good luck with tomorrow, I hope you and Midoriya have a pleasant time. 21:02

That's a little strange, you never told Shoto about your and Izuku's plans. Thinking about it a little longer, you come to the conclusion that Midoriya was probably the one to tell him. You hum, pleased by Shoto's message to you, at least now your mind was at ease. Shoto doesn't seem upset at all. He's real dry in his texts, but you assume that he didn't mean to sound the tiiiiniest bit passive aggressive. Not that he has any reason to be. You scoff at your own stupidness.

Hearting the message, 'cause you're too lazy to actually reply in text, you roll over with your phone in hand, clutched to your chest, trying one last time to sleep, before you actually give up on rest. Your heart feels as heavy as your eyelids as you finally fall to sleep.

The morning rolls around way too soon for your liking, you slide out of bed rubbing at your eyes, dragging your hand across your face. You groan at the feeling of a headache forming. That's what you get for sleeping late. You'd only slept for a total of six hours, and it was showing. Getting ready and fixing up your hair before you leave for the day, you glance in the mirror briefly, tongue in cheek, you wonder if Shoto is awake yet. You're curious if he'll like your hair today. The thought of Shoto sends a mellow feeling budding through your chest, you sheepishly eye yourself in the mirror. "Pull yourself together!" You squawk. Rushing out the door, huffing.

You're met with the sight of two girls walking by, arms interlinked with one another. You recognise them as Uraraka and Mina. "Oh good-morning Yn!" Their girl with pink cheeks chirps.

"Hey girl!" The girl with pink skin shoots a quick wave at you, before stopping, turning on her heel to face you.

"Morning Mina, Uraraka! You mind if I walk with you guys?" Uraraka shakes her head smiling sweetly, contrast to Mina's more aggressive, animated display, hopping over to you linking her arms with yours.

"Have you heard?" Your twitch your head to the side, questioning.

"Some of the guys and girls in our class are going out after class tomorrow! We're gonna visit a super cute cafe!" Uraraka walks up to your other side, unoccupied by Mina, holding on to your free arm.

"There's a cute Photo Booth in that area! And a crepe stand that's reaaal popular! You should totally come with!" Mina leans her head on your shoulder, squeezing your arm affectionally.

"Well we're all going there to study actually, but who can turn down a sweet treat?" Uraraka tilts her head forward at you to garner your attention. Holding onto your arm a little tighter, closes her eyes, enveloped in a dreamland filled with desserts and good food. "I definitely can't." She sighs flopping her head down onto yours.

"Oh" You stutter, slightly taken aback by the sudden affection. You had no idea about your classmates plans,"Who will be there? I mean-I can totally go." You explain slightly wide eyed due to your fumbling of words.

Mina snickers, leaning her head forward to make eye contact with the girl with brown hair. She squints her eyes and holds her hand over her mouth in a weak attempt to stifle a chuckle. "Don'tttt worry girlie, Todoroki-kun will be there!" She takes her finger poking at your ribs, as you try to swat her hand away.

You feel your face heat up, embarrassed, "That's not wha- um, that's great! Any other guys coming?" Nice recovery.

Mina deadpans as you whip your head around to see Uraraka making an attempt to mimic pinkie's face, only she looks a lot more amused, her lips wobbling, and her eyes glazing over with tears as she zones out, trying her hardest not to burst with laughter. "Ummm guys?? What's funny??" You prod. You feel a weak wave of humiliation wash over you. Trying to hide your face by pressing your chin down. You end up looking stupid, smooshing your chin into your neck.

"Nothingggg" she drags, " You guys are like besties right?"

At that you raise your head to look at her. Nodding, "Yeah, ever since we met in elementary school."

"Exactlyyy," She drags on. Silent for a moment," Kirirshima, Tokoyami, Kaminari and a couple others are coming, even Bakugo was convinced to show up." She snickers. "Can you believe that? Thought he'd be too good for a casual outing to grace us with his presence.." Mina mocks, lowering her voice in an impression of your blonde classmate.

Uraraka nods in approval," Deku's coming too, and Iida. As for the girls.. pretty much all of them are gonna go!" She places her index on her lip, as a gesture of thought.

oooh okay, you think, "Sounds like it'll be fun." Both of the girls agree on that, nodding on queue, still holding onto you as they walk. They've successfully assimilated you into their posse.

Training whisks by faster than you thought it would. Your tiredness had worn off, or rather, you had forced yourself out of exhaustion and into liveliness out of pure fear. Bakugo Katsuki was currently barreling towards you, deathly grin on his face. He was out for blood. The last sparring match of today's training session. You verses a literal death sentence. He swipes at you with his right arm, igniting his quirk right as his open palm passes your face. You grimace, swinging your head back. The overwhelming heat from his power causes you to throw yourself backward, violently trying to evade his attack.

You land right on your ass, bouncing on the padded floor with an oof . You almost think that he'll attack you again as he lingers over you, arm raised, scowling. You hold your breath in anticipation only sighing with relief when Aizawa sensei calls off the 'battle'. Bakugo looks at you out of the side of his eye, peering at you with what you can only describe as pure disdain. He scoffs, "Weak." Before turning his back to you hoofing off.

A few faint 'whoop"s and claps of sportsmanship - or pity, probably pity, fill the silence left by your teachers orders. Now you have to live with the embarrassment of today for the rest of your life, annnd, a sore bottom for the next half hour. You grip your back as you stand up, feeling as though you just aged sixty years in two minutes. You straighten up catching Shoto's eyes on you. Oh god. A lump in your throat as you jaunt over to him.

"How embarrassing was that." You widen your eyes and throw a thumb over your shoulder. Like you just witnessed something that would garner secondhand embarrassment. As if you didn't just make a pathetic spectacle of yourself in-front of your entire class.

"You need to work on your combat techniques." He suggests.

"You need to work my foot up your ass- What was I supposed to do?!" Throwing your hands up, instantly regretting it as you look around, noticing Bakugo staring you down with that same hatful look on his face. You shrink into yourself, shoulders deflating in defeat.

"We all have weak spots within our abilities, Yn. Yours must be close quarter combat."

"Okay Mr. Perfect. That's soooo easy for you to say y'know." You poke at his chest. "You are practically invincible, what's your weakness? A undeniable constant-craving for soba?" You pick up the pace in your prodding, "If I dangle a bowl in front of you will 'ya wag your tail??"

Shoto exhales sharply at his, feigning annoyance in favour of amusement. He shakes his head in disagreement, "I excel in power when I use my ice quirk, however I do in fact have a weakness." Pausing he looks to the side for a moment before turning his attention back to you, his eyes stutter to your lips for a moment before continuing, "I have an aversion to using my other quirk, my fire. But, I am working on it. I'll be invincible soon though." Dropping the irritated act, a sly smirk creeps onto the boys face, obviously proud at his quip. Sooo not charming.

Before you can reply, Shoto falls in line with the students slowly filtering out of the training room. You drift over behind him, making your way out the door, you feel a silly sure, but for some reason, you find yourself stuck on Shoto's words, his fire . Still deep in thought you shake the suspicion out of your head, deciding to just forget about it for now. Instead choosing to narrow your eyes at the back of his neck, channeling your secret super telepathy: I know what you are. Cough if you're guilty. Nothing. You roll your eyes clearly not convinced. I'm onto you boy. You can't fool me, Im gonn-

You crash into Todoroki as he suddenly stops. You blink rapidly reverting your eyes as to not look absolutely insane. He hums at the contact before turning to you, " Want to go get soba?"

" Yeah okay." Shrugging.

Lunch with Shoto was usually filled with silence and quick glances at one another, your spilt hair friend focused on his bowl for the majority of your meals together, only ever replying to conversation whenever he was spoken to. But for some reason, today was different.

"Any new leads, Yn?" Shoto stops slurping his soba, turning his attention to you fully. Dual hue eyes leading to yours and flicking over your face as he waits for a response.

His sudden directness startles you,"Huh? Oh, right. " For a moment you'd almost forgotten what he meant, " No actually, nothing at all." You shrug. Deku perks up at this, He looks almost surprised. You turn your head as Froppy speaks up.

"What are you guys talking about, ribbit?" Tsu tilts her head. This draws the awareness of Iida and Uraraka, suddenly you have an audience. You itch at the feeling of eyes on you.

"Ohhh its nothing really- Um I got a letter. " Waving your hands, "From someone..! Only I don't know who its from..." You trail off and purse your lips. You take a moment to look at every one at the table individually.

"Ooooh! What kind of letter?!" Uraraka places both hands on the table lifting herself and leaning towards you, eager to get closer.

Iida hastily chops his hands at her, "You mustn't ask such invasive questions! And sit down!" He orders.

Midoriya shovels a spoonful of rice into his mouth, humming merrily, oblivious. "Oh it's a love letter!"

Again Deku?! Seriously?

Ochako freezes before latching onto you, squealing as she purposely ignores the plethora of commands from Iida. "Really? Oh wow!" She shakes you, " How romantic!"

"Well I certainly ribbit wasn't expecting that." Finger on mouth, Tsu quips. Wow backhanded much.

"It's whatever guys! Not a big deal I swear!" You try to focus on your meal but you can feel your face grow more and more red in real time. You eye Shoto in a silent plead for help. He notices your predicament and smiles. Is he dense?! Wow thanks a lllot for all the help. - You hate him.

The teasing from Uraraka was constant throughout the rest of your lunch, Iida right behind her chastising her every move. Deku apologies sheepishly and you turn away from him huffing with your arms crossed. You obviously weren't that mad, but you still wanted him to feel bad. Maybe he'll learn his lesson this time.

Your last period of class had just ended, you make your way out of your classroom, remembering, Deku had mentioned he'd be waiting by the lockers so you could walk back to the dorms together. As expected, he was there waiting, along with Todoroki and Iida. You wave as you approach them, Shoto notices and raises a hand to you. He looks pleased at your sudden appearance, per usual, he always has a smile on his face when you show up. He beckons you over. You spot Midoriya wave a goodbye to Iida, turning to you. Once you reach them you huff and release the tension in your shoulders, as if to express the wear of the day. Deku hums and nods in acknowledgement.

"Just need to get my stuff from my locker, then we can get going." You sling your bag over your arm and swivel round to face your locker, inputting the code and opening the door with a crack. As the door opens, you notice a small slip of paper float out onto the floor. Shoto sees it too and bends down to reach for it. "Thanks Sho." You reckon it must be a loose sheet of paper from your notebook. At closer inspection Shoto comes to a conclusion.

"It's another letter." He looks up at you and hands it over, his hand brushing over yours. He's so warm.

"From the same person?" Deku gets in closer, now both of the boys are huddled around you, leaning in to see the new letter.

"No idea." You unfold the paper, briefly scanning over it. You slam the Locker door shut with your hip, leading the boys in the direction of the dorm building. You nose is still buried in the paper as the two boys trail on either side of you.

"Yn, would it be okay if I joined you and Midoriya?" The boy nudges you slightly, brushing his arm agains yours. You lean into his touch and continue walking.

"Yeah Sho, 'course you can. Right Deku?" You smile up at him, cheeks rounding into apples. You turn to Midoriya, for a split second, you think you see a confused expression on his face, he's looking right at Shoto. It doesn't last long as he looks back at you, shaking his head in an overly-eager manner.

"Yeah! I-it's not like it's up to me anyways." He scratches the back of his neck, chuckling with his eyes closed. You think you see a drop of sweat drizzle down the side of his temple. weird.

"Then it's settled! Tonight we'll crack the case! I can feel it!" You raise both your arms, with a newfound determination. Your heart is beating rapidly, you can't believe you'd almost forgot how fun this could be. The way you felt at this moment was reminiscent of the 'good old days'. The days in which you could mess around with your best-friend all day, play pretending, so entranced in each others company within your imaginations.

You glanced back at Shoto one last time before exiting the school building, his face matched yours, lips curved upright, staring into you, silent like deep water. In this moment you knew that he was feeling everything you were.

You, Midoriya and Shoto were sat in a circle on the floor of your dorm room, in the middle of the circle was the two notes you received so far.

"So I'll start by reading out both letters, then we can work from there." You look up at both of the boys opposite you, checking to see if they were on the same page. Izuku is sitting with a notepad in hand, pen in other, eagerness in his eyes. You shift over to look at Shoto, he's sitting with his legs crossed, hands on his knees unmoving. He nods at you, ready.

You start with the first letter, clearing your throat:

Dear Ln Yn, I'm writing the letter to you, as I feel as though it will be easier then telling you this in person. Over the time we have spent together, I have found that I enjoy your company much more than anyone else's. To put this as plainly as I can, I have developed feelings for you, as a friend, and as something more. When ever I see you, I feel as though my whole world comes to a stop, It becomes difficult to notice anything else other than you. Like tunnel vision or something similar. So I suppose this counts as a confession and I don't have much else to say other then how I'll set your heart alight.

You pause before looking up at them again, "Should I keep going or..?" Deku is scribbling away at his notes, quickly looking up and signaling at to carry on. Shoto hasn't moved at all.

You exhale, picking up the second note:

Dear Ln Yn, I hope this letter receives you well, I've thought about my first attempt and decided that my approach was perhaps a little creepy, you have to understand I lack experience in this sort of thing. Ive only just realised that you would be more open to my advances upon you, if you knew more about me. For example, my favourite fruit is strawberries, My family is quite well of in terms of money, and I fair very well in both the practical sense and academically , so if it comes to it -and our relationship progresses to the point, I will be able to support you financially.

You pause at that, looking up with wide eyes, "That escalated fast?!

"So bold!" Midoriya chimes in. Locking eyes with him, sharing stunned look with the freckled boy.

You gape in awe and utter disbelief. "This guy is serious." You frown back down at the paper reading on.

Other then that, during my free time, I like to watch variety of television shows, off the top of my head, Criminal minds,- well, comes to mind. Forgive me if this is a little lacklustre, if you couldn't tell already, I can be a little clueless. Again, I hope you are well, and that this letter will provoke some semblance of a positive reaction from you.

Farewell Yn.

You sigh, stretching your back and looking up. "That's it." At that deku finishes writing on his notepad, you look around trying to gather any impressions, Shoto, neutral face, bland as ever. Although you catch him fiddling with the fabric on his trousers.

"Ive gathered every-thing they mention about themselves," He tosses the notebook to you, "And everything that might be true about them, things that might not be said outright, but hinted at."

You glance at the writing on the notepad, its slightly intelligible, handwriting scribbled erratically:

• The culprit is male • Well off finically • The culprit likes strawberries • The culprit is academically proven to be skilled • The culprit is practically skilled, hero course??? • Culprit watches tv- Murder mysteries??

You scan your eyes over the page, well that narrows it down. You hum in a questioning tone," How'd you figure out he's a guy?" You raise an eyebrow and peer up at Izuku who's fiddling with his fingers, he looks a little nervous.

"Well, he mentions supporting you, financially. And commonly- well- you know, within families, the husband is usually the one to take care of money. In the sense tha-"

"Ohh right! Makes sense!" You nod, now understanding where the boy was coming from.

"Annnd, usually girls are more enthusiastic I guess??" He chuckles, pleased to find you appreciate his explanation.

Right.. as if you aren't You muse in your head. You hand back the book to Midoriya, who takes it from you with a smile.

"Oh, and add that they might have a quirk related to fire!"

Midoriya freezes in place, body rigid all of a sudden. You quirk an eyebrow up at him, and he responds by nodding, "Right okay!" Quickly scratching at the paper with his pen. "Okay then now we can start to-"

There's a knock at the door, followed by a "Dinner!"

"Oh!" You stand up, "come on guys, we can finish up later,"

final part

only one part left until the end of this mini-series guyyyyyzzzz (✿´‿`)

I feel like this part is a little corny, especially the letter part lol, plz forgive me, idk if its obvious or not but I'm making up this story as I go, without any plan or anything,so I apologise if the plot is a little silly or flat. ♡

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@sikuthealien

IMPORTANT NOTE:

: ̗̀➛ If you would like to be added to thisseries taglist, any upcoming series tag lists, or a taglist for all of my writing works, feel free to let me know. I would be happy to add anyone, it feels great seeing people enjoy my works! ♡

[mandomaterial]

Kylo with an oblivious, innocent girlie

Kylo thinks you’re adorable, too innocent for this world, he found you one day at an underground auction, completely unaware of what was happening, you were a jolly thing, truly, too trusting and too nice. You’d been scammed and taken advantage of far too often and lastly you ended up in this place, locked in a cage and on display for all the wild animals people call men. He was there on business, trying to find some relic but when he walked past you he had to do a double take. How could a sweet pretty thing like you be in a cage? He kneeled down, making himself smaller and less intimidating, in hopes of not frightening you and it worked. With a small voice you greeted him, a smile on your face as if nothing was wrong. Kylo was utterly baffled, did you not realize what was happening? He asked if you knew why you were locked up but and you answered truthfully, you didn’t know, but it wasn’t that bad. You told him not to worry and that you were fine but that just made him worry more. He decided that you were too much of an angle to be placed into some slavers hands or worse, you weren’t the type of girl that should be kept on a leash by perverts, so he made up his mind and bid on you.

And he won easily and the auctioneer must have thought he bought you for pleasure because as you were brought out to him, kylo noticed instantly that you were stripped of your clothes that already barely covered anything, you were just wrapped in a ribbon. Literally, the wrapped a pale pink, thick ribbon around your chest and hips, he did have to admit that you looked utterly adorable and the least bit seductive, but this wasn’t the place. As soon as they did the hand over, he slung his cape around your shoulders, almost swaddling you like a child, making sure that you were completely covered from head to toe, but that brought another problem, you could barely walk, being wrapped up in the thick fabric, so Kylo did the next best thing, ha asked if it would be okay for him to carry you, patiently awaiting your answer. Of course you agreed and you were all smiles, he carefully picked you up and carried you off onto his ship.

Now a couple months had passed, you grew close and somehow got into a relationship. You were still as oblivious and innocent as ever, seeing the best in everyone and everything. That’s why Kylo had to keep a close eye on you, mostly he would tell you to stay in his quarters and you followed everything he said, laying your complete trust in him. You stayed and tried to occupy yourself, fortunately Kylo gifted you lots of activities! To Kylo they seemed utterly childish and useless, but he saw how much joy they brought you so he couldn’t help but get you new things every time they made a stop. You asked for things like colouring books and coloured pencils or markers, other times for fabric and sewing needles and another for pearls and beads. He got you everything he could get his hands on and he loved watching you use his gifts. Sometimes when he finds the time, hell check on you over the cameras, only to find you colouring something on your shared bed, he can never stifle his smiles as you remind him so much or his childhood. His life was hard, honestly, he was thrown into training early on and it really heals his inner child whenever you ask him to join in and he can’t refuse his darling, can he? So he ends up helping you color in a random sketch or outline, his hands are rough and a little clumsy, not used to the small movement but he really does enjoy it and he loves when you finish your drawing and stick it in your folder.

There have been a couple incidents where you started wandering, often bumping into troopers and starting conversations with them, at first everyone thought that you were an escapee and they dragged you back to a cell, but you never complained, they were just doing their job after all! And oh boy, that gave Kylo a scare, he came back to his empty rooms and panic flooded his systems. Where the fuck were you? He grabbed his sabre and rushed down halls and corridors, trying to find you. That’s until he overheard a pair of troopers talking about a cute girlish prisoner and he instantly knew they were talking about you. He rushed over and rescued you from that uncork cell and you were so happy to see him, you were so bored in there, and the people next to you were so loud as well! After that, he made you Promis to tell him whenever you go wandering and he made you promise to wear a little pendant that had a tracker built in, he explained that it was for whenever you got lost or needed his help, you just needed to tap the back a few times and he’d know.

You’re the only one who gets to call him Kylo and you’re the only one he’s gentle with. He’s practically forced to be soft with you, how can he refuse you when you ask for a piggyback ride? Or when you ask for hugs and cuddles so adorably? How can he refuse you when you want to braid his hair and how can he say no when you want to Rey your hand at baking with him? You’re basically a princess and you get to do anything and everything you want to. He lets you dress however you want, if that cute frilly dresses or his shirt and pants, the only rule is that you have to change out of you pyjamas. But oh how he loves when you wear his clothes, you look so adorable! Completely dwarfed and stumbling over the fabric, your soft hair flowing over your shoulders as you try to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. He almost dies of cuteness overload every time.

Sometimes you decide to accompany him to the gym, where he decides to show off a little, you tell him how he makes it look so easy and that you want to try too! Then you’re hanging off the pull-up bar as you try to force your muscles up, you manage one but your struggling real hard with the second one, Kylo always gives you a little push, telling you that you’re doing such a good job and you really feel proud after your one and a half pull-ups! You sit down on one of the mats and watch as he does about fifty at an amazing speed, your eyes trail a little lower and you watch his tank top kling to his chest tightly, showing off all his muscles as they flex, you cant help but drool a little, how is he so handsome? Of course Kylo notices your little flushed cheeks and he feels proud, proud that you find him attractive, he finishes his work out and moves on to his sabre. He notices that you seem curious about it so he offers to let you hold it and you almost jump at the chance. He tells you to stand in front of him as he wraps his strong, large hands around your soft ones, helping you hold the sabre, then he ignites it. Red light ans a buzzing sound fils the room as you gasp in amazement. Kylo guides your movement with precision as you swing it around, careful not to hit anything. His chest is pressed up against your back and his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck, giving you little kisses.

You truly are the perfect partner for him. His complete opposite but perfect for home, like two sides of the same coin.