#Whether it’s giving them both the same last name or mixing up their last names

[pnuk-r0ck]

My dad is a very special man.

[outsideratheart]

You Should Have Told Me (Alexia Putellas x reader)

Being away from Alexia was never easy. In fact it got harder as time went on. Luckily for you it didn’t happen often, only really when you went back to Australia whether it be for national team camp or to be with family. This time was the latter.

Like always, you and Alexia spoke to each other and found a way for it to work with the time difference. You were getting into bed and tried calling Alexia but she didn’t answer. You thought she might be busy so you text her and wait for a respond only one doesn’t come.

When you wake up the next morning you find the reason for her radio silence. A tweet which makes you feel sick.

Alexia Putellas will undergo arthroscopy surgery on 27th December.

You are filled with worry but you are also mad at your girlfriend. Why on earth were you finding this out in the internet and not by the woman herself.

Despite your mixed emotions you find yourself on a flight back to Barcelona after a length apology to your family. Funnily enough they knew it was coming as soon as they saw the news. They had only met Alexia once but the love you had for her was evident. They saw it on your face every time her name popped up on your phone.

It was the 27th by the time you arrived home or to your other home. Everyone was well aware of your relationship with Alexia so the nurses didn’t question it when you arrived at the hospital asking for her whereabouts.

“Y/N” Alba greets you with a warm hug “Alexia didn’t tell us you were coming”

“Clearly Alexia is going through a not telling people stuff phase”

Alba swallowed deeply. Your annoyance was clear and if that wasn’t a telling sign, you calling her sister by her full name was.

“Y/N I didn’t—“ Eli joins the two of you in the hall but stops talking mid sentence when she sees her youngest daughter shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t mama”

“She is in there” Eli point the door behind her “she didn’t want—“

Again she was cut off, this time by you.

“Don’t fight her battles Eli. She knew what she was doing. Feliz Navidad by way��� you kiss both women on the cheek.

The two of them watch you enter Alexia’s room.

“You two need a lesson in manners. You know it’s rude to interrupt people” Eli says to Alba given that you are in the hospital room.

You get a sick sense of deja vu when you enter the room Alexia’s in. The same happened last summer and you stayed by her side for the entire thing. It’s why now didn’t make sense. You looked up the surgery, it was minor. Why didn’t she want you here now but happily had you with her then.

Alexia pays no attention to you when you enter and although she is there physically you can tell her mind is far away.

“I know I’m not your emergency contact but I would of thought being your girlfriend earned me a call or at least a text”

This got her attention. It was a good job she was already at the hospital because the speed in which she turned her head could have given her whiplash.

“Mi amorcito”

“Alexia”

Her faces changed at this. You could almost see her wince at the formalness.

“I deserve that” she knows she did wrong by not telling you. Still, she pats the space next to her hoping that you’ll join her on the bed.

She watches each step you take, you get closer to her but stop at the foot of her bed.

“What? I don’t get a hug? I am in the hospital” she tries to get you to crack a smile but fails miserably.

“Repeat those last 4 words”

“I am in the hospital” she is slightly confused because you clearly heard her.

“We have been through a lot together Alexia. Yesterday you told me everything was fine, the medics had given you a green light and that you were packing for the trip. You lied”

“Y/N I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted —“

“Miss Putellas it’s time” one of her doctors come in.

“Give me a minute” Alexia doesn’t ask, she demands “I’m in the middle of something”

“No. Take her. We’re done here”

At first Alexia panics. What did you mean by we’re done here. It sounded almost like a break up but before you leave you walk over and kiss her temple. It was a small sign that you were not breaking up with her.

Her eyes remain on you as you walk out the door. Her mother steps in her eye line and Alexia recognises the look on her face; she is in trouble.

“You didn’t tell her, idiota!” Alba appears from behind their mother.

“Alba not now”

“No Mija, she’s right. When you wake up you need to fix this. That girl is the best thing to happen to you and you know that you should have told her. Alexia, she is your girlfriend she had a right to now”

“Por Dios! I know I messed up. I thought I was doing the right thing”

Alexia truly did think that. You had been with her to every physio appointment since the champions league game. You hadn’t been back in Australia long when the decision was made for her to get surgery. You had played the most minutes this season so far and for the sake of your own health you needed to rest, to recover.

She wanted you with her and truth is she needed you with her but she sacrificed that solace for you.

The surgery took two hours which is within the predicted time or least that’s what Google told Alexia when she looked it up. She woke up and saw two woman, neither of them the one she wanted to see.

“She left, didn’t she?” Alexia looked defeated as she came to.

“She did” Alba replied with a wicked grin on her face.

“But then she came back” Eli told the whole truth.

Alexia watched as her mum and sister stepped aside revealing you curled up on the chair fast asleep.

“I think the jet lag must have caught up with her. I saw the girl drink three double espressos but even they couldn’t help fight the urge to sleep” Eli explained.

Your girlfriend knew the battle all too well. She saw the way the time difference affected you when you travelled for international camp. Sleep always won in the end.

“Do you think she’ll forgive me?” Alexia asks her mother specifically only to earn a response from her sister.

“Of course she will. Y/N loves you and I’m talking the type of love dad had for mama. I think you’re stupid for not telling her but knowing you, you probably thought you were doing the right thing”

“No, she was being stupid” your raspy voice gained the attention of all three Putellas women.

“I was and I’m sorry”

You and Alexia were given some privacy.

“I am sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to hurt you”

“What did you think would happen? I found out my girlfriend would be having surgery on twitter. Strangers found out the same time as me”

“I wanted you here with me but you needed to be with your family“

“I needed to be with you. I love you and nobody comes above you Ale.”

“But you were supposed to be in Australia. You had plans to spend new year in Sydney. It had been planned all year”

“You’re wrong Alexia. We were supposed to be in Australia. We had plans to spend new year in Sydney. We planned it together. I don’t care where I am as long as I am with you”

“I should have told you”

“Yes, you should have. Are you able to squeeze up? I’ve had enough of being mad at you”

Alexia knows that she’s strong enough to move and does so happily. She would do anything if it meant having you beside her. It came as no surprise that you were the little spoon in the relationship so Alexia naturally holds you close.

“I’m scared Y/N. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I had the surgery and I put in the work. I was back and now look at me. I’m back at the beginning again”

“No you’re not. This isn’t like it was before. Your knee is stronger now. I called the physio on my way to the airport and he told me everything. The surgery was only an investigation”

“Would you still loved me if I’m not as good as before? If I never win another balón d’Or?”

“Alexia Putellas Segura, what silly questions those are. I loved you long before you won your first and I will love you long after you hang up your boots. I fell for the person, not the player and you’ll do good to remember that”

Alexia took a moment to take in what you had said. Her greatest fear was that you’d leave her but deep down she knew that wouldn’t happen. Your words only reiterated this.

“Did you return the outfit? Nurse Y/N might be needed again”

You jokingly gasped at her suggestion. When you look up you see that her eyes have darkened slightly. She did love you in that criminally short costume.

“I think I have it somewhere” you cup her cheek and Alexia leans into your touch.

[mickandmusings]

felt good on my lips

part of the 'hangman & honey' series! (stand alone story)

summary: as the sun settles over the texas air on the most patriotic day of the year, honey and jake find themselves encased in a different kind of heat, the kind that had little to do with the burning star in the sky. that night, as fireworks erupt against the starry sky, a different kind of spark flames between the two.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: sticky sweet fluff, southern american traditions, a fourth of july special, some slightly suggestive thoughts from jake and honey's mind (nothing spicy)

*timeline: this takes place the summer after part III!

**i'm not sure if this is common knowledge anywhere outside of the southern US, so some explanation: window air conditioning units are necessary for most older homes (they get extremely hot), the 'pig' is a local grocery store aka piggly wiggly, and also, kids are always sort of everywhere at family get-togethers, and the closest adult will take care of whatever kid, whether they belong to them or not, lol. southern americans give their grandparents weird names.

-

Under the scorching rays of the Texas sun, Jake lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat dripping down his face. It's nearing lunchtime, and it's prime time for the heat index to reach its max temperature. He'd been outside for an hour or so now, setting up folding tables and taping cheap red, white and blue tablecloths to them. His extended family would be trudging down Seresin Farm Road in an hour's time, and the day's festivities would be off and away. His grandmother had all but stormed into his bedroom at eight that morning, startling not only him, but Honey who was sleeping peacefully between his arms. (They were both more startled at the fact that they weren't technically supposed to be sleeping in the same bed anymore, and that they'd been caught, but Janet had seemed more focused on the fact she had a dozen more people to feed.)

After he sets up the last table in the front yard, he sighs and decides to shed the sweat-drenched shirt plastering to his chest. He wipes his face with it and takes a moment to look at his work before he went to retrieve his next task from his grandmother. The tablecloths were uneven and more than a little wonky, but they would do good enough. He shrugs and begins to make his trek back to the farmhouse. Jake's bad mood had already begun to seep in, he truly despised most of his extended family. They only visited on holidays, despite only living an hour or so away in Austin. They never visited for any pure reason, they always came when they needed or wanted something-primarily monetary-from his well-off grandparents. They would come and complain incessantly about the heat or the simplicity of small-town life, and it drove Jake absolutely mad. As he walked up the porch steps, he heard Honey's boisterous laughter filtering through the screen door he was opening. Her sweet happiness made the tension fall from his shoulders, and his face broke into a small grin.

His eyes found her immediately-she's standing at the kitchen counter next to his grandmother, a pair of denim shorts adorning her legs and her his well-worn, thin white shirt on her torso, doing little to hide the red and white striped swimsuit top underneath it. Jake felt heat fill his blood, and he knew the Texas sun had nothing to do with it. Her hair fell in waves across her shoulders from the braid she'd slept in, and she stood barefoot as she stirred something in a mixing bowl. Neither Janet nor Honey had heard him walk in, so Jake stood in the door frame, a smirk painted across his face. He watched them work in perfect tandem-there's no chatter between them, they navigated the kitchen without having to say a word-Honey working on sweets while his grandmother seemed to be making something in a casserole dish. Country music filled the kitchen from the radio on the opposite counter, and the hum of the window air-conditioning unit sounded over it, providing the ambiance of Jake's idea of a perfect southern, summer day.

After standing staring at his girlfriend for probably far too long, Jake decided to make his presence known. He sneakily slides his hands around Honey's waist, causing her to jump and let out a small yelp. She turns around in his arms, her eyes wide as she looks at him, her mouth open like she has something to say but she falls silent when she looks down at his bare torso. Jake laughs and places a chaste kiss on her cheek, and she sends him a pointed look when she composes herself.

"You scared the absolute mess out of me, Jacob Thomas!"

He kisses her other cheek, distracting her long enough to snatch a cookie from the plate in front of her. Janet watches from the corner of her eye, smiling as she chastises and shoos Jake out of her kitchen. He shuffles up the stairs to his and Honey's room to get in his own patriotic swimwear, leaving Honey with a rosy blush on her face. Honey tries to swallow her visions of the sight of him down, focusing on icing the cupcakes in front of her with red icing and white and blue sprinkles, but her cheeks still flamed.

"You alright, Honey, need me to bump up the air in here? You're looking a little red," Janet's voice is dripping with faux sympathy, she's not stupid, she knows why Honey is blushing.

"Uh, n-no, I'm fine," Honey gives her a bright smile, focusing back on the desserts she was supposed to be finishing up. The sound of Jake's heavy footsteps come down the stairs, American-flag printed swim trucks on his tanned legs, a white and blue Cowboys shirt on his torso. Honey rolled her eyes, had she really fallen in love with the most stereotypical American dream boy known to man?

"Jake, dear," Janet's voice pipes up, turning to face her grandson. "Alice is bringing her grandkids along, the younger ones. I bought some water balloons the other day, they're in that Pig bag on the back porch. Why don't you and Honey fill those up, hm?"

"Yes ma'am," Jake nodded heading towards the back door, Honey right behind him. He holds the door open for her, and slides his hand across her waist and into the back pocket of her shorts as they walk around back. Honey looks over at her boyfriend, not surprised by his action, but more so his constant affections today. She uses the plastic bag full of water balloons to slap his chest playfully.

"You're touchy today, Seresin." Honey's voice is humorous, simply jabbing at him as a joke.

Jake's green eyes shine in the sun, his eyebrows furrowing as he shakes his head, his favorite Longhorns cap backwards against his head. Once they reach the back of the house, Jake (unfortunately) lets go of his hold on her, turning on the water at the faucet. Honey dumps the bucket full of rainwater next to it, making room for their tied balloons.

"Sweetheart, after you meet my asshole family members you might run like hell, got to hold on to you while I can."

Honey frowns, she knows all about asshole family members.

"Jake you've met my mother and didn't run, I think I'll be just fine."

Jake fills a blue balloon with water, handing it over for her to tie off. He lets out a dry chuckle, pausing his actions to look up at her.

"Take your mother, times her by like eight, and give her four kids a piece, and grandkids. Then, give them all better-than-you attitudes and lookin' down their noses at you. Honey, baby, they're monsters."

It was Honey's turn to feel heat wash over her, and, under the shade of the house, she knew it had little to do with the heat and the new pet name Jake had just used. She'd never say it, too embarrassed to admit something like that to him, but she certainly liked that one the most. She stands stock still, holding the completed balloon in her hand, only staring as Jake fills another one, this time red. He hands it to over to her to tie, and notices her not moving.

"You alright, Hon?" He ties off the balloon himself, noticing the flames painting her cheeks. "Damn, you're already red. Can't stand in the sun five minutes before your skin starts burnin'."

He slings his hat over her head, the bill facing forward now.

"That'll at least keep your face from peelin' tonight."

Honey could've told him the truth, that the red was from a blush, but she didn't. She simply smiled, tucking her hair into the back of the hat to fashion a ponytail as she helped him finish the task at hand. As Jake slung the bucket into his arms and the pair started walking back towards the house, the rumble of vehicles sounded down their gravel driveway. Jake stops in his track, using his spare hand to hold onto Honey's, his voice annoyed as he spoke:

"Fuck me! They're already here."

Honey only laughed and shook her head, pulling her dramatic boyfriend back towards the house as she spoke:

"Hey, look at this way, we hang out here for a few hours, and then we have fireworks out at Willie's family's place at nine, and we're leaving before then to swim with Brett and Willie, and then you won't have to see them again until Thanksgiving."

Jake sighed, pulling her into him by the waist. The backyard was secluded enough that they could have a private moment, so Jake leaned in for a deep kiss. Honey felt her skin tingle with goosebumps, Jake's hands on her hips sending them down her spine. They broke apart and he winked at her, walking around the front to greet his family.

-

After meeting Jake's family, Honey realized he hadn't been exaggerating when he thought they were the worst. The adults had a sort of holier-than-thou air about them, with the exception of his Uncle Danny who seemed to be relatively down to Earth. Danny's only downside was that he came with his overly judgmental wife, Yvonne, who sneered at the dirt on the bottom of her fancy-looking sandals, and his six kids. Jake seemed to like Danny, and the two carried on a conversation over one of the tables. Honey found herself off to the side, not wanting to interrupt. She nursed a solo cup of lemonade as she watched the Seresin family interact with one another-a perpetual wallflower in any social situation. Janet and Jacob Sr. sat with a group of older family members, swapping laughter and memories of those long gone. Honey felt herself pick at the skin around her fingernails, swallowing a set of tears that loomed behind her eyes. Even if Jake despised his family, with their attitudes and short looks, at least he had a family to see each other on holidays. Honey thought of her mother, likely at a party with her new boyfriend's family, before she shut the thought down completely, her bottom lip between her teeth. Without much thought, she went around to the back porch, overlooking the group of kids playing in the sprinkler. All of Danny's kids (all under ten, and completely wild) played with Alice's two granddaughters peacefully, and Honey smiled. She had a slew of cousins back home in Mississippi, and, in times like these, she missed them terribly.

When she looked back up at the kids, she saw the scene of disaster unfold before her eyes. One of Danny's older girls had all but barreled into Alice's youngest granddaughter, who couldn't have been older than two. The toddler hit her head against the ground hard, and it was obvious by the look on her face a round of tears were coming. Honey's instinct kicked in before her logical thinking, and she shuffled down the stairs of the porch and scooped the little girl up before her loud sobs filled the air.

"Hey, hey, you're okay, you're okay," Honey rocked her in her arms, the toddler now sobbing against Honey's shoulder. Honey looked down at her for any possible bruises or knots on her head, but she seemed fine, the fall had most likely just startled her. "How about we go get you a popsicle, yeah? That sound good?"

The toddler, whom Honey still didn't know the name of, nodded against her shoulder, and Honey sighed in relief. She brought the young girl onto the porch and wraps her in her Barbie towel, plopping her into the rocker on the porch. Honey slings open the freezer and spots the plastic bag of different colored popsicles.

"What color, little lady?" Honey smiles at the toddler with sopping wet pigtails. A grin forms on the young girl's face as she shyly responds. "Blue."

Honey smiles and retrieves the popsicle and hands it to her, popping it open and smiling down at her.

"You alright?" Honey speaks, sitting down in the rocker opposite her. "That was a pretty hard hit."

The toddler nods as blue begins to stain her mouth, her big brown eyes looking over at Honey. "I okay, thanks."

Honey laughs at the toddler babble and begins to look out at the other children again, the children still running through the sprinkler safely. It isn't until she feels a cold hand on her leg that Honey looks down, the toddler looking up at her with her arms raised. She wants to be picked up. Honey picks her up and places her into her lap, the girl looking at her with a blue, toothy grin.

"I'm Presley."

Honey grins widely, "Hi Presley, my name is Honey."

The toddler smiles again, getting more comfortable in Honey's grasp.

"You're pretty."

"Me?" Honey jokes with the girl. "You Miss Presley are so pretty."

Presley giggles and Honey finds herself laughing too. The two are so absorbed in conversation about Barbies and Presley's preschool friends that they don't notice Alice and Janet rounding around to the front in the search for Presley, Jake behind them, in search of Honey.

"There you are, sweetheart," Alice coos to her granddaughter. Honey grows shy, not knowing Alice well. When Jake spots her, his eyes grow wide, his blonde-haired baby cousin sitting in Honey's lap. Honey was relaxed, her body language comfortable. Jake stops in his tracks, another feeling coming over him that he couldn't explain. The sight of the girl he was in love with, sweetly comforting the toddler in her arms made his emotions stir.

Presley looks at her grandmother from Honey's lap. "I okay, Gigi. Honey gave me a 'sicle!" The toddler waved the partially melted treat in the air. Honey's sweet smile formed across her face as she looked down at Presley, and Jake's heart hammered. He'd never seen Honey so comfortable with strangers, but he knew his girl's heart, and she had a soft spot for babies. Presley launched into her grandmother's arms and Honey went to meet Jake down at the bottom of the stairs. His jade green eyes glimmered down at her, her sun-kissed face hidden under his baseball cap that still sat on her head. All he wanted to do was pull her in for a heated kiss, but he decided against it, given that their company was made up of children and his own grandmother.

Honey smiled up at him, "You alright? They annoy you that much already?"

Jake only shook his head, grabbing her hand and intertwining with his own.

Honey gave him a look, as if she didn't fully believe him. "Ready to head to Willie's place?"

Jake nodded, kissing her cheek. She smiled.

"Did you grab our towels? I can go get us some if not it's-"

"I got it, baby, go get in the truck."

Honey stilled in his arms. That damn nickname was going to kill her.

-

Later that night, Jake and Honey found themselves sitting on the sandbar of the river under the moon, Willie and Brett both drunk off of Willie's dad's beer he'd stolen. Jake nor Honey had been as brave, Honey had half of one before she'd tossed it to the side, and Jake had finished it. Jake laughed as Willie tossed Brett into the water, both of them mock-fighting one another. Honey had long since had her fill of swimming, her hair damp and a beach towel around her shivering body. Jake had one arm slung over her, pressing her against his side for more warmth. If he was honest, he'd spent less time swimming with his friends and more staring at Honey in her swimsuit. She lazily floated on her back as his stupid friends all but drowned one another. Now she sat next to him as Brett and Willie picked themselves up out of the water and headed back towards the cabin that Willie's family owned, getting ready to set off fireworks with his family.

Jake had appreciated their offer for he and Honey to join them, but Jake knew Honey would much rather enjoy the fireworks without Willie's entire extended family around. Selfishly, he wanted a moment alone with her anyways. She smiled up at him in the silence, her eyes shining in the moonlight.

"It always ends with just us, huh?" Her voice comes out.

"You complainin'?" Came Jake's retort.

She shook her head, leaning up to kiss his cheek, resting her head against his shoulder. Silence settled over them, and someone shouted in the distance before a display of lights burst across the black sky. Honey smiled as she watched the display, but Jake's focus was on her instead. They hadn't had a true moment alone since his 16th birthday a few weeks before, and he was going to savor every second he had. Her eyes darted at the lights in the sky, Jake's hand resting on the bare skin of her torso, the spot not covered by her swimsuit. His thumb brushed against her skin, and she smiled up at him again. When they caught eyes, Jake couldn't stop himself, his opposite hand coming to her chin to connect their lips. As a round of blue fireworks filled the air, neither of them caught the display, Honey's hands in Jake's blonde locks, and both of his now pulling her into his lap. She giggled faintly as they pulled apart, that kiss had been more heated than she'd intended. Honey feels brave, pulling him back into another kiss just like the last. Jake's hands move to her hips, his heart racing at her touch. He thinks back to Brett's comment about him already being 'whipped', and as Honey's lips meet his again, he knows he's done for. Soon it's messy, clashing teeth and fumbling hands. Jake gently pulls her back, his southern gentleman instinct kicking in. His eyes are dark, darker than Honey's ever seen them, and he's breathing heavy.

"We should probably slow down, baby."

She stills again, her entire frame encapsulated in flames. Her hands go back to Jake's hair. Their faces are close, but their lips aren't touching.

"I love it when you call me that," her voice is a whisper, and Jake almost doesn't hear her over the fireworks popping in the sky. His eyes dart between her own, his lips barely meeting hers before he mumbles.

"Baby," His lips crash against hers, and Honey, in an act most definitely unusual to her nature, let's herself go completely. There's no shy hesitation, she's unabashedly aflame for him, the name feeling ridiculously good against her lips.

As much as Jake wanted to let this progress, the logical part of his brain refuses to allow him to take her on the dusty sandbar of his friend's spot on the river. He pulls away and pushes the hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear, kissing her forehead and pulling her into his chest. He watched the rest of the firework show with Honey in his arms, placing relatively innocent kisses to the side of his neck as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear. When Brett and Willie had come back to retrieve them, they'd teased them relentlessly-kissing noises and snarky comments about the couple-but Jake let it roll of his shoulders as he carried Honey piggy-back up the hill and back to his truck, her head resting on his shoulder on the way home. His hand rests against her thigh, his thumb lazily rubbing against her skin.

The night is quiet, the country music in his truck at a low volume. When he pulls up to the house, Honey's fast asleep against him. He shakes his head fondly and slides her out of the truck, tossing their towels and wet clothes across the front banister of the porch. His grandparents had long since gone to bed, and Jake was thankful, he was too tired to try to sneak Honey from her room across the hall into his. He simply brings her straight into his room, and places her carefully onto their bed. He carefully peels off her shoes and chucks them across the room before falling into bed beside her. He pulls her close, and his eyes are fluttering shut before he can even remember to shut off the lamp on his bedside table. He only mumbles down to her before he falls into deep sleep:

"G'night, baby."

-

taglist:

@djs8891

@unattainablesillygoose

@psuedochakra

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

[ruddyhotelau]

Hey I read the post where you mentioned about 9 AU for justicestatic if u don't mind I would like to know about au even a short one liner is enough!!

I am really curious and love your Au!!

Ok till the moment I answer this question, the amount of AU increase to 14 AU =)))))))

Nate did draw sketches for some AU in the list, we will break it down for you.

1. Hellaver Secret

This AU started our Hellaverse Journal, it is the combination of Hazbin Hotel and an anime called Spy x Family. Mixing the lore of both media to create a plot that balances between fantasy and slice of life . The main couple in this AU is RadioApple, JusticeStatic is only a side dish that we came up with as a joke at first.

Basically, in this AU, Samael gave up his position as a Seraphim to become a normal human and changed his name to Lucifer. He's currently an assassin, a daughter he has with his long lost wife - Charlie, a telepath that can read people's mind and Lucifer form a fake marriage with a man named Alastor - a spy in disguise.

Michael is still an Archangel in this AU, he came down to Earth to bring his brother back to Heaven and somehow agreed to a business deal with Alastor's coworker - Vox. Even tho they hate each other, they still try to work things out because they both want to break the fake Morningstar couple.

2. Ruddy Hotel

You guy already knew about this one =)))

But yea, basically role swap AU

3. Band AU

This is a human AU. All the Heaven siblings decided to create a rock band called Octagrams. Michael is the drummer of the band and Vox at first was their anti, like the kind of anti that will stalk you from behind. Vox is actually a very successful businessman but he's also a stalker cuz c'mon, it's Vox.

4. Students AU

They are high school students in this AU, and yes, Vox is older than Michael in most of our human AU. In this AU, Vox is a 12 grader student while Michael is in grade 10. If anyone wondering then no, they are not dating till later when they're both legal adults with jobs.

Michael: I think you should give up on that school already.

Vox: Shut up kid, I'm trying to concentrate.

5. Hotel Supervisor

In this AU, Michael already knew Vox when the TV was still alive. Michael has to come down Earth to do his jobs and somehow Vox was his next-door neighbor. Long story short, they then fell in love but in the end, Vox died and became a demon in Hell. Then, one day, Michael got a direct message from God ordering him to come down to the hotel, keep an eye on it and decide whether the hotel deserved a chance to prove redemption is possible. Vox then knew about Michael's appearance at the Hotel... After a long time of thinking carefully, he decided to knock on the hotel's door.

7. The contract

Michael is currently having a headache about the last extermination, about his brother and his niece, about their resistance, which could cause a misunderstanding for Heaven and made God think they want to rebel against Heaven. Michael needed to know what was happening in Hell as soon as possible and Vox was the most suitable choice for this job.

8. Soulmate AU

When humans turn 18, some of them will appear a small mark at their wrist, the mark that represent their soulmate. But love has never been easy, not everyone with the mark can find their soulmate because all the mark does is glow when your soulmate is making love with someone that is not you and you will be able to feel a faint electric shock when you meet them. The mark will disappear the moment your soulmate passes away.

Vox got his mark when he was 18. Some of his friends were jealous of him but all he felt was empty and annoyed. If anything, Vox is never the one who trusts in destiny and fate. Same with his soulmate - Michael, Archangel Michael got his mark as a gift from God but he never paid much attention to it. He didn't understand why God gave him this? The idea of himself getting attached to someone on first sight is something Michael can't even imagine.

So they both waited for the day that their mark disappeared so they would no longer be bound to a stranger anymore.

But things never go as they expected...

Destiny must be crazy when it thought that tying an Archangel and a Sinner together was a good idea.

9. Get rid of you

Michael is currently a third year law student in this AU. One day, his younger sibling Gabriel thinks it's a good idea to fill that empty fish tank in his brother's house with some fish in some skeptical looking pet shop. Lilttle did the Morningstar siblings know the mini shark they picked up at the store that day was actually a demon in disguise.

10. Roommate AU

Vox, the Static Demon and Archangel Michael got summoned to Earth in another universe where Heaven and Hell didn't exist by a mysterious cult. Because they both came from the same universe so it's best that they stick together to survive in this familiar yet strange world. It took all of Vox's neuron nerve to convince Michael and after thinking carefully about his current situation, Michael knew he will have a better chance at getting back to his world if he co-operate with an Overlord and a better chance at blending in the human world with the help of someone who used to be a human. So even though he despised Vox's existence but for his future benefits, Michael is going to spare Vox's life.

So the two began to live together to find a way to come back to their world and to survive in this society without drawing any attention to their existence.

11. Guardian Angel

In this AU, all the siblings are the guardian angels for the humans.

Michael - Vox

Lucifer - Alastor

Raphael - Cherri Bomb

Gabriel - Niffty

Uriel - Husk

Jophiel - Velvette

Chamuel - Angel Dust

Azrael - Sir Pentious

Their mission is to guide their human on the right path but sadly, for Michael, he and his human are not getting along too well. Michael could only hope that he could get the guy to be 50% better at being a good person until the day Vox dies or else Michael is going to lose that promotion that he's always wanted.

12. Your Name

Inspired by an anime called "Your Name". Basically, it depicts the story of two college students, Michael and Vox, who suddenly swap bodies despite having never met the other, unleashing chaos onto each other's lives.

If you're wondering why they're doing weird expressions that doesn't match their personality is because in the pic, these two losers are swapping bodies, Vox in Michael's body and vice versa.

13. The Moving Castle

Inspired by an anime named "Howl's Moving Castle". Vox is an overly confident man who is cursed to have a demon body with a TV head by a spiteful witch. His only hope of breaking the spell is meeting a powerful, cold and distant wizard that travels around in his moving castle.

Michael's mind is filled with doubts when he sees Vox. He couldn't believe this vile man in front of him was the one he had been searching all alone and the one who could break his curse.

14. Apocalypse AU

Take place in the post-apocalypse world where almost everything was destroyed but with advanced technology. In this AU, Vox is a mad scientist and Michael is a soldier in a poor and small area.

So Michael and his siblings in this AU were all slaves when they were small. Some were sold to by dealer or black market and others came from a corrupted lab or were kidnapped. Because the 8 of them were locked in the same cage and all of them were around the same age so they got close with each other really quickly. (In this AU Michael and Lucifer are still twins) After knowing each other for a while, Lucifer came up with the idea that all of them should have a unique tattoo so even if they got split up in the future, they will still be able to recognize each other. So time passed, one by one was sold but the place collapsed before Michael got sold. And so he was able to escape then got adopted by a soldier.

Time passed, he became one of the protectors, an excellent and skilled soldier of the area. But one day, some people in the area started to go missing and Michael has been assigned the task of finding those missing people. And he was able to track Vox down. Vox noticed there has been some annoying rat following him lately, not to mention being the first to come this close to him in the first place. So he asked his old pal Alastor - a famous hitman to deal with Michael.

Then "BANG" - a clean bullet through the head, taking away Michael's life. Vox was not going to let Michael's body going to waste so what better way to reuse the body than to create a hybrid monster (The reason why Vox want to create a monster is because he remembered Al used to tell him a long time ago that he wondered how a monster tasted like. So Vox thought maybe if he created a monster and served it to Alastor, perhaps he could fix his relationship with Alastor)

So a monster was created and so did a broken screen. (Vox did change his screen later, don't worry) What will they face together afterward? What will the future hold? What kind of madness, wacky adventure and people awaiting them? It is something that they need to go through together in the future...

[anzulvr]

hiiii!!! do u think i can request a karma x reader or just Class E in general with a bit of a princess complex, i think itd be a bit funny to imagine how they humble reader or just treat them in general ^‿^

thankk uu and take ur time soz if this request doesnt make sense 😭

‧₊˚ ♡ Princess Complex ♡ ‧₊˚

Karma x Reader with a princess complex

+ general E class / Reader This is so cute, ur kaomoji is so cute! ur so cute! now think I have a princess complex... Trying out a new format ✧ fluff ✧ no warnings hdr by yeonkittiz on Pinterest divider by cafekitsune on here.

Princess complex meaning someone with a “pretty” outlook on life, high expectations, and wanting to be treated like a princess!

Ever since you joined E-class there’s always been one thing that stuck out to your classmates, and that was your “princess mentality.”

It’s not a problem when you’re dating Karma because he’s the type to feed into it. It’s not like you’re actually stuck up or look down on people. You might joke about it the same way he acts overly confident about himself but that’s as far as it goes, so he doesn’t see the harm in giving in to you, just a bit!

The negative aspect to having a “princess complex” is your inability to pitch when hard labor is involved. It doesn’t mix well with assassination attempts. This is probably the one thing that bothers the class as a whole.

“[Name], we need you to set the wire trap at the other side of the mountain!”

“That’s so much walking in this heat… and I’m gonna get my shoes all ruined!”

Kataoka has been trying to get you to pitch in a little more, as class rep she feels it’s her job. Whenever she asks you such and say you’ll do it later…and proceed to completely forget about it.

She thought getting Karma to ask would solve things but no you just feel more comfortable straight up rejecting his requests.

“Karma, tell [Name] she has to do something.”

“[Name], do something.”

“No.”

“I tried.”

Terasaka has to drag you all the way there, you’re helping whether you want to or not.

Karma’s usually the one having to push you into stuff you can’t bring yourself to.

Nagisa sent you both out to grab some essential items for the next attempt.

“Why can’t you carry it, this is heavyyyy.”

“[Name] I’ve been carrying your bag for the last 20 minutes, it feels like you drag bricks around.”

“Sorry…”

“Don’t sweat it this is light work, but you have to carry something yourself.” (His arms hurt but he’ll never admit that.)

“Alright- I guess I can do it… only because you asked.”

(For once!)

There are classmates who will call you out of the princess fantasy; Terasaka, Maehara (depends on the day tbh), Kataoka.

The teachers, for sure call you out!! Korosensei’s will dote on you but push you to make some effort. You don’t want to spar? He bargains.

“[Name] I know you don’t want to ruin your nails but please participate, if they break, I’ll re do them!!”

Mr. Karasuma just straight out lectures you about how assassination takes getting your hands dirty and takes sacrifice, he eventually gives up and does things your way- he noticed Karma is really good at pissing you off and partnering you up is the perfect way to bring out your potential.

“Scared to mess up your hair? Sounds like a lame excuse, just admit you suck at sparring.”

“YOU’LL EAT YOUR WORDS.” (You ended up losing, but hey at least you swung this time!)

Ms. Vitch is a bit different, encouraging you to continue to have the mindset you do. she adores you because you remind her of herself, she’s got a soft spot! Your #1 supporter. You helped design the assassination uniforms with her.

In contrast there’s classmates who’ll let you live out your princess dreams, Hinano, Isogai (he will encourage you to help out so sweetly it won't feel like he’s trying to humble you when he is.) , Nagisa lets you do your thing, Okajima who’s to big of a simp to complain, Ritsu whose the cutest ever.

With Princess syndrome comes high standards, so Karma’s kind of flattered he fits yours. He’s a bit unsure of himself underneath the front he puts on, having your approval means a lot to him but he won’t admit that out loud.

— sorry I took such a break from posting, please correct my mistakes if you catch any :)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The first thing she does is stride across the stage. She is moving quickly, for a reason. At events like these, there is typically someone with a clipboard and a headset holding you backstage behind a curtain. They tell you the exact moment when you can walk out. Both candidates will be let loose at the same time. For her to achieve her first objective, she has to walk faster than him, so that she is in his space when, remarkably, for the first time, the two meet.

He seems to avoid her. He has barely made it to his own podium by this point, but she has already crossed her podium and the space between them and now stands behind his podium, on his turf. “Kamala Harris,” she says, in case he needs a refresher. I cannot recall a presidential candidate saying their own name to their adversary like that. It strikes me that that was how she would have introduced herself in courtrooms.

This first move is Aggression Meets Manners. She is trying to own him, with courtesy. She returns to her podium. And the first thing she does now, because she knows she has to, given how it is for women in her situation, is smile. A big, generous, probably rehearsed smile, because you really have to.

There were miles to go from there. But already in that double instant, you had it all. The full range of who she had to be, and who she would be: dominant, alpha, power-conscious, on one hand; joyous, easygoing, a little above it, having a blast, on the other.

Last night Vice President Kamala Harris faced the impossible, contradictory demands women face in politics and in all of public life, and she said, “Yes-and-and-and-and.”

She had to thread the smallest of needles, starting with that mix of aggressive and mannered, then being joyful and tough, gracious and angry, and contemptuous and hopeful, and incredulous and credible, pugnacious and nurturing, pitying and alarmed.

In one sense, there are very few women in the world who will have had the precise experience the vice president did last night. But I doubt there are many women who have not felt themselves forced to thread that needle and win by being all the things.

Last night Kamala Harris was all the things.

What came back to me as I watched was Gloria’s monologue in the “Barbie” movie, delivered for the ages by America Ferrera.

It is literally impossible to be a woman… You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin. You have to say you want to be healthy, but also you have to be thin. You have to have money, but you can’t ask for money because that’s crass. You have to be a boss, but you can’t be mean. You have to lead, but you can’t squash other people’s ideas… It’s too hard! It’s too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you! And it turns out in fact that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also everything is your fault.

These incentives and pressures are not fair, but they exist. Last night, as much as any political leader in memory, Harris thrived at being all the things at once — all the things a single person should not have to be.

When she did aggression, she did aggression. “Donald Trump was fired by 81 million people,” she said. (And you have to give him credit: he knows TV, and he knows a good line, and that one he gave a grudging nod of admiration. I see what you did there.) She said to him that dictators “would eat you for lunch.” She told him his crowds were walking out out of exhaustion and boredom, the form of impotence he cares about the most. She told him that she had to clean up his mess.

Ordinarily, this kind of emasculation should only be done in a licensed clinical setting.

What I’ve learned reporting on politics is that voters may say they care about this issue or that issue most, but what they’re often looking for is a gut check on whether the candidate in question has the fight in them to thwart the obstacles that face their family. They know how immovable the obstacles are, because they just spent their day failing to defeat them. Can a candidate do for them what they can’t do for themselves?

The strength, force, alphaness Harris showed last night will satisfy many on that score. But look at what she mixed it with.

Her facial expressions worked harder than Charlie Chaplin’s back when there was no sound. The mics may have been muted, but they forgot to press the button to silence her face. Eyebrows up, eyebrows down. Hand on chin, hand down. Eyes enlarged, eyes narrowed. Skepticism, sadness, eagerness to butt in, exasperation, wonder — she might cycle through all of this during one of Donald Trump’s answers. Can one’s side-eye be nominated for an Emmy? Though Harris often looked right at him when she spoke, when Harris spoke, he looked straight ahead, with his resting fascism face.

Sometimes she listened, letting him wild. Sometimes she seemed like a predator on the savannah, ready to pounce as he meandered. Sometimes, many times, she planted bait for him, with the exterminator’s faith that the pest will eventually come for his nibble. He gobbled instead. Every one of her traps he found, true to biology, and gobbled. The thing about bait is you don’t know it’s bait. Otherwise, you wouldn’t fill up on it. Bait ruins dinner, because by dinner you’re dead.

What a small needle! In addition to all this, Harris sought to show, not tell but show, that the multiracial democracy America is becoming will be fun. One shouldn’t have to convince people that freedom is better than tyranny and the thriving of all better than the thriving of some, but here we are. You have to show people that what they are being manipulated to fear isn’t scary. And Harris carried herself, amid everything else she needed to be doing, with a joy that embodies the kind of future she promises.

The most important new thing I saw her do was prebunking. Pre-, not de-. Debunking is waiting for someone to lie and then hitting back with the truth. It doesn’t work in politics as much you would hope it would in an age saturated by lies. But prebunking works better. Prebunking is explaining to people how they are being (or, better yet, will be) manipulated, what the motive is, how the con works, how the lie will be crafted and how it will function, and, for extra credit, who benefits from it and how. In the age of Trump, too many of his opponents have been all debunk, no prebunk.

But in last night’s debate, again and again, Harris rose to the meta level and explained Trump’s ways in advance so as to inoculate against their infectiousness. “I’m going to tell you all, in this debate tonight, you’re going to hear from the same old, tired playbook, a bunch of lies, grievances and name-calling,” she said in the first minutes. In another moment, she prebunked any professions Trump might make to be admired by foreign autocrats for his strength: “It is absolutely well known that these dictators and autocrats are rooting for you to be president again because they’re so clear, they can manipulate you with flattery and favors.”

Trump is a challenge for anyone, because he is a weird mix of super dangerous and a joke. With the “Barbie” monologue in mind, think of how much harder this challenge grows for a woman running against him. Play up his danger, and you risk being seen as shrill, or weak, or scared, or hysterical. Belittle him, and you risk coming off as a bitch, a ballbreaker, a nag, a witch. It was remarkable, then, to see Harris’s comfort last night in treating Trump as both of these things at once, a danger and a clown.

She loves her a Venn diagram, and in the debate she seemed to find the lens-shaped intersection of what supremely dangerous wannabe autocrats and semi-retired, narcissistic, imploding clowns have in common: They are not thinking about you.

It became her message: He is not thinking about you. He is not capable of doing so. You may believe that is because he wants to be a dictator, and dictators, by definition, don’t worry much about what people need or want or say. You may believe it’s because he is a decent conservative like yourself with some pretty good ideas but just runs his mouth too much. No matter. She is trying to assemble an Ocasio-Cortez-to-Cheney coalition of people who believe that, whatever he may be thinking about, it’s not you.

At the end, she tried to speak to the breadth of a big country that feels today like it’s made of factions and rumps and tribes and slices and segments but that still is a country, a country full of wonder and promise, still, and she promised to be president even of the people who do not wish her well.

“As a prosecutor,” Harris said, “I never asked a victim or a witness, ‘Are you a Republican or a Democrat?’ The only thing I ever asked them: ‘Are you OK?’ And that’s the kind of president we need right now.”

It was a simple line, but strangely healing after these years. Years in which we have not been OK, because everything we have is at risk and all we could have is, too.

“Are you OK?” A little better this morning.

[quinloki]

Eustass Kid - Pleasure/Passion (+Killer)

Reader style - afab she/her (no pronouns used) Time slot - After hours Client Name - @thegrandlinesimp CW: No dialogue, double penetration, fingering, oral given

The dance between you, Kid, and Killer was something a little more rushed than languid and a little less rushed than harried. The three of you moved easily between yourselves, kisses and hands slipping over bodies that shivered in pleasure, and burned with desire.

Kid and Killer worked well together, freeing buttons, belts, and zippers with ease and care. Whether they used their fingers, or their teeth. Kid unhooking your bra with a single motion was a surprise no matter how many times it happened, and more so when Killer was on his knees, teeth tugging at the thin panties that separated you from him.

Kid’s hands steadied you as Killer pulled the last of your clothes away, and once everything was set aside, there was far more passion to be had. Your surrender is absolute as the two move you in all the ways they please, lips and teeth leaving lipstick marks and soft teeth marks against your skin. There’s naught for you to do but let your fingers trail along muscled bodies when you can reach them, letting pleasing gasps and notes of pleasure tumble from your lips.

You were almost nothing more than a toy that dispensed sweet treats for them at their prodding, but simultaneously you were far more than that. Giving over yourself so completely was a sign of your trust in them, to treat you as something far more precious than a simple toy.

You were something nearly divine, to be worshiped with the most specific of care.

Killer murmured wordless prayers into your pussy, tongue pushing in deep as his lips tease your clit, his hands steadying you, as Kid worked behind you. One alabaster painted hand held you in place by your neck, his lips reciting soft praises into your ear as his other hand slowly and carefully worked your ass open.

Both urged you to cum for them, your body wet and trembling from the disquisition they drove into your very soul. In return you sang an evensong for them, voice reaching a heavens in which only the three of you resided.

There were no words of love, false or otherwise, for the connection between the three of you was something that seemed different. Something set aside from the phrases and expectations of the world outside the room where you feasted upon one another. Something that was both too complex and too simplistic for labels, and so you left those sort of words unsaid.

Laying against Killer’s chest as he laid down on the soft pillow-piled floor, he and Kid moved you with care and ease. Both of their thick, stiff cocks pushing into your wet and waiting holes at the same time. Four arms holding you firmly in place as they fill you up and stretch you. Carefully. Slowly. Soft words of praise as the sensations drown you from your loins to your eyes, shivering fingers carving your overwhelming pleasure into otherwise flawless skin.

Your legs move of their own accord as impossibly large, impossibly hard, nearly desperate beasts rut deep inside you. Gentle praising words mix with moans and grunts, hissing breaths against your skin, teeth and lips suck harder and sink deeper than before, leaving longer-lasting marks of devotion upon your body.

Your second song is a sweet mess of drool and sweat, hands gripping your skin more firmly, to keep you from slipping free from your perfect position. Effort and need squelch between your legs as tithes from your devoted leak down your legs.

The night is long, and mass is never brief, thus after reassurances are confirmed, your exultations begin again.

One Piece Host Club AU drabble event runs through December 2023

[thepalerimitation]

Let Me See Some Hands:

Why SydCarmy is the most controversial dish served on the Bear

When the Bear came out, I didn’t watch it. The most I heard, it was a show about line cooks and it had the guy from Shameless. I wasn’t interested, I’m a self proclaimed cooking snob and wanted to see a tv show that had a little more flair in cooking.

But then it was 9 pm, and I was bored.

BAM!

I watched both seasons in a week.

I was obsessed, I was absorbed, and I was deeply and truly in love. The show captured everything gritty and everything beautiful with both hands and threw them into a pan to sear at high heat. It was sexy, it was hideous, and it was mind blowing.

Then the age old question.

What’s going on with those two?

Sydney Adamu, the raw ambition and talent to Carmy Berzatto’s genius and finesse. They’re well matched in the nonstop heat of the kitchen, with an easy dynamic that snags on their jagged edges like fabric on a nail.

In the first season, they’re awkward and magnetic, drifting together and falling apart, shattering and putting the pieces back together. By the second season, they’re starting to click. They dress the same, they finish each other’s sentences, and they argue like people who have known each other for twenty years.

So yes, I did pose that particularly debase question.

Can men and women be friends?

It’s a question that gets thrown in front of the runaway train. It’s the conversation-ender and argument-starter. It’s dynamite. It’s catnip.

The warning signs were there. Shots that focused for a beat too long on him looking at her, or her looking at him. Her embarrassingly admitting he made her favorite dish of all time. Their sign language communication. The season two conflict as a girlfriend was thrown in the mix with Sydney flatly saying “I need your focus, I can’t share, I’m sorry.” I’ll admit, I’ve made more out of less.

But what’s the counter argument?

Well, for one, the girlfriend. Claire (no last name), a nurse and childhood friend who approaches him at a grocery store. She asks for his number, he gives her a fake one. She finds his number anyways and calls him.

Yeah…

There’s some moral arguments. As coworkers, a romantic relationship would be inappropriate. As partners in the restaurants, a romantic relationship could fracture the Bear. Then there’s the purist argument. It’s a cooking show about found family! Let it be that. Romance doesn’t have to be in everything.

“Well gee, which do you think people are pro or anti SydCarmy?”

Well I can tell you why I’m pro.

To me, romance doesn’t demand satisfaction. There’s no need for boyfriend/girlfriend hand holding and playful arguments about doing the dishes. I’d like a kiss, but I’ll take a heated conversation in the walk-in and longing glance.

They’re young and crazy, and HR violations can shove it.

But I also think romance has killed some excellent plots.

Platonic representation is important, especially male-female relationships. I think a lot of platonic relationships are fetishized in media or misinterpreted to add intrigue or interest to audiences.

But can Syd and Carmy be friends?

The short answer?

Who Cares?

The long answer?

Whatever Storer’s design for the show, whether he moves forward in the unclear relationship between Syd and Carmy or buckles down on either platonic or romantic, he’s definitely won.

The show has buzz. It’s got attention and heat.

You hate the romance, so you watch it to prove it’s not there. You love the romance, so you watch it to prove it IS there. You’re curious because every news site talks about it, so you just have to watch it.

Even I’ll admit, I’ve rewatched it and stayed hooked to prove my little delusion. (And because it’s beautifully acted, but who cares about that).

So whether you’re pro or against, just remember:

There is no controversy that wasn’t first stirred up by a clever strategist.

[harryjpotter-shitpost]

I can give Dudley the redemption arch because he was a child following after his parents (very abusive behaviors) but people are really defending Petunia and Vernon???? What the fuck?? Like it pretty much says in the first sentence of the whole series that they’re assholes! And it is canon that both Vernon AND Petunia were physically, emotionally, and mentally abusive to Harry until the last moment he left private drive.

The only reason I can give Dudley any kind of redemption or forgiveness is because we see him change in the books after the Dementor attack. I don’t think he and Harry will ever be close or very friendly, but I can see them having a civil relationship at least for their children. Or even just to make up for their shitty childhood that they shared together, as Dudley was also abused too. But this would definitely be after years of therapy and trying to make amends, it wouldn’t happen until many years after the war was over.

You would be surprised on how many posts I’ve crossed where people almost worship Petunia and say that Vernon is the one who forced her to hate her sister!!!

I believe that Dudley deserves redemption cause as you said he was a young person living in a very toxic environment. However, I’m always rather conflicted on how his relationship with Harry is post-war. I’ve read a few fics that had different perspectives on what their relationship have come to, and they’re all very interesting! But I’m not set out on one opinion. Sometimes I think Harry would try to leave it all behind him, but sometimes I think that maybe they’d reconnect as Dudley was obviously a very huge part of Harry’s life (even though it was horrendous) and the same goes the other direction. But I’m sure of one thing; I don’t think they’ll ever have a “close brotherhood” kind of relationship. Maybe sending presents over the holidays or reconnecting every few years, but never close, yk?

But anyways let me get back to my rant about Petunia. It’ll be under the cut :)

CW: mentions of abuse

Let’s get one thing straight: Vernon did not make her hate Harry nor was he pulling the strings in that house and the abuse regarding his nephew. It was Petunia. She collected ALL the hatred in that house and made sure it was taken out on Harry. Why? Because she’s a petty, small-minded and disgusting woman who abused the power she had over a child. All that to let out some of the childish jealousy she had against her DEAD little sister.

Here are some quotes from the books to use as a starting point:

“Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn’t have a sister,”

“They didn’t want Dudley mixing with a child [Harry] like that.”

“she [Petunia] always got so upset at any mention of her sister.”

"He [Vernon] cleared his throat nervously. ‘Er — Petunia, dear — you haven’t heard from your sister lately, have you?’ As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn’t have a sister. ‘No,’ she said sharply.”

“Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he’d heard the name ‘Potter.’ He decided he didn’t dare.”

“‘Harry’ [Said Petunia]. ‘Nasty, common name, if you ask me.’”

So these quotes are from the first chapter of the first book (Philosopher’s Stone).

As you can see, pretending the Potters don’t exist is a mutual decision from both sides and it seems that Petunia is more bothered by the mention of her sister than Vernon is because when he tries to bring up the Potters his main concern is upsetting Petunia. Never once does he mention his own disgust with them when trying to bring them up. No, it’s Petunia’s reaction he’s worried about. This doesn’t seem like a behavior of someone who is forcing his wife to hate her sister.

If anything it seems to me that Petunia have explained to her husband how much she dislikes the mention of her sister (and her sister’s entire family too) and so Vernon got the memo that the Potters should never be brought up. Which shows that Petunia is the one who fuels the hatred for the Potters in their household.

Now I’m not saying that Vernon is completely innocent, no he’s hates the Potters too. But his is more personal. After the whole double date incident when he felt that James was taking the mickey out of him and undermining his power. A bully like Vernon who likes to show off his money and power being insulted by a teenager made Vernon hate James’ guts.

“…James was amused by Vernon, and made the mistake of showing it. Vernon tried to patronise James, asking what car he drove.”

“Vernon could not tell whether he was being made fun of or not, and grew angry. The evening ended with Vernon and Petunia storming out of the restaurant.” -Pottermore

And I think that Vernon usually likes to pretend that the people he hates don’t exist, he’s way to high to be bothered by a cocky teenager who ‘doesn’t have a future’. He feels way too superior. During his wedding he made sure not to give James any attention, but made sure to return the humiliation he felt during the double date.

“Vernon refused to speak to James at the reception, but described him, within James’ earshot, as ‘some kind of amateur magician’.” -Pottermore

After Vernon obviously felt satisfied with his comeback, he never gives James a glance.

That’s why when mentioning the Potters he doesn’t even mention the double date incident because technically who’s that James next to him?? No, his wife’s reaction is the main concern.

And that’s the difference between the hate Vernon has towards the Potters and Petunia’s hatred. Whereas Vernon hates James specifically for undermining him and his money and power, Petunia hates them all because she ‘knows’ she’s less superior and special. This fuels her jealousy and anger towards them.

Therefore; Vernon’s ultimate superiority and Petunia’s ultimate loathing.

And you can see that Petunia already has it out for Harry even though she hasn’t met him yet; calling his name “Nasty”. Now I know some of you might interpret her sentence as Petunia criticizing her sister’s choice of names, but if that was the case she would’ve claimed the boy’s misfortune of having such a name or the kid’s misfortune on having parents like the Potters. But no, she mainly focused on the child. Which gives the impression that she’s disliked Harry the moment she knew about him.

“she [Petunia] received from Lily and James the announcement of Harry’s birth, and after one contemptuous look, Petunia threw it in the bin.” -Pottermore

These things sets the foundations for her dislike towards Harry. So when the moment comes where she actually meets him, he will be connected to the ‘detestable’ announcement and the ‘nasty’ name.

Then the times comes where she has to handle that child’s responsibilities and raise him.

And she did take him in, no one’s denying that, but this happened:

“She did it grudgingly, and spent the rest of Harry’s childhood punishing him for her own choice.” -Pottermore

She spent the rest of Harry’s childhood punishing him for her own choice.

She took him in. She hated every single moment of having to raise him. So she made sure he was punished for it.

If that is not abuse as some people like to say, then what is exactly???? Punishing an innocent child for taking him in? Are you guys serious?

That’s why her character disgusts me so much. I cannot stand her at all. Because if anything this is a psycho level of behavior. A sane person wouldn’t dream of hurting a small animal let alone a child. Her nephew.

And as for Vernon’s hatred towards Harry it stems out of the humiliation he felt when he met James. The fact that Vernon made sure to return that humiliation during the wedding satisfied Vernon and he didn’t have to think about James anymore. But Harry ( the carbon copy of James) serves as a constant reminder of that feeling, so his hatred towards Harry stems out from his injured masculinity. As Pottermore says:

“Uncle Vernon’s dislike of Harry stems in part, like Severus Snape’s, from Harry’s close resemblance to the father they both so disliked.”

So ya this is my rant about them. Sorry if this is all over the place, English isn’t my first language and this topic pisses me off so much🙂.

And I’d like to conclude that I hate them both, but hate Petunia at tad bit more :)

[solitaryearthperson]

Familiar

Summary: Waking up in the hospital, Chishiya feels familiar with a stranger.

(The reader is gender-neutral and uses they/them pronouns. The ethnicity/race is preferably black/person of color.)

(E/C) - Eye Color

*If you haven't seen season 2 yet or haven't finished it, I wouldn't recommend reading this*

The sound of beeping was loud in Chishiya's head as he opened his eyes. His dark gaze ran across the room quickly, trying to figure out where he was and how he got there. He could feel parts of his body was sore, and wondered if he had gotten hurt and if so, how bad was the wound.

Hospital? I'm in a hospital. But I wasn't here before. I was-He couldn't think of where he was before. Was I on my way home? Where was I? Sitting up, he looked over to his right and saw in the bed across from him, a man sleeping. He had bandages covering half of his face and around his chest as far as Chishiya could see. What happened to him?

"Hi," a sudden voice made him look away from the man in the bed and he saw a person entering the room, wearing a hospital gown as well.

They look familiar, he thought, running his eyes up and down the person's body. Where have I seen them?

"How're you," the person asked, walking over and taking a seat on the bed, next to his legs.

Those eyes, he thought. They were a beautiful (E/C) and they seemed so familiar to him. They gave him a warm, happy feeling in his stomach. Something he never felt before. Is it love? Whatever it was, this person made him feel it.

"Chishiya," you wheezed, feeling yourself lose more and more energy as more blood seeped out of you.

He didn't answer back, and instead turned his head to the side to see you looking at him tiredly with those same (E/C) eyes. A strange mix of feelings was inside him as he looked at you. He felt happy that as he was about to die, the last thing he would see will be your face, but he also felt sick at knowing that you were dying as well.

"I love you," you told him, coughing a small bit of blood after. You knew your death was getting closer and you wanted to let Chishiya know before you both passed on to whatever was on the other side.

"(Y/N)," he rasped, lifting his hand off of his bleeding wound and grasping your hand, giving it a tight squeeze. "I love you."

"Fine," he answered, looking over their body, spotting bruises around their eyes, arms, and legs. Whatever happened, they were hurt as well. "What happened?"

"A large meteor hit Tokyo," the person told him. "Some people survived, but a lot died. Apparently we've all been asleep for a while."

He didn't say anything else, his mind racing, trying to remember what happened before he was here. I was somewhere else? I know I was. They were there with me, he thought, looking at the person again, the warm feeling spreading from his stomach to his heart.

"Attention to all the remaining players, you will now be given two choices, please choose wisely.

Please choose whether you will accept permanent residency in this country or decline it. I repeat, please choose whether you will accept permanent residency in this country or decline it."

They could hear the fireworks going off in the sky, but neither looked away from each other, wanting each other to be the last thing they saw before they die. Neither had to ask the other what their answer was going to be, they could tell it in each other' s eyes.

"I'll see you on the other side," he told them, gripping their hand tighter as they both answered the voice at the same time. "I decline."

"I decline."

He was brought out of his broken thoughts by the feel of a hand taking hold of his, the familiar feel of the person's skin making him gasp, and he quickly gripped theirs back and squeezed tight, not wanting to let it go.

"Are you okay," They asked, eyes full of concern.

"Yes," he answered. What is their name? Why can't remember their name? Why can't I remember everything about them? I need to know the name of the person who somehow stolen my heart. "What's your name?"

"(Y/N)," they answered with a smile that made him want to lean toward them and kiss them, something that he never thought he would ever feel towards anyone. "What's yours?"

"Chishiya," he answered, lightly rubbing his thumb over the back of their hand. He didn't know why he did it, but he continued to do so as it felt familiar to him.

From the bright smile on the person's face, he guessed that they also felt that same familiar warmth in them. "Well, it's nice to meet you."

"Yes," he answered back, doing another thing that he rarely ever found himself doing before all of this - smiling. "It's nice to meet you too."

[tlgtw]

//Spoilers for Everything in AC6: Fires of Rubicon//

The Meaning of the Motif of "Borrowed Wings" and how G5 Iguazu Exists to Reinforce It

What seems to fly over everyone's heads about G5 Iguazu is that the point of his character is how 'deciding upon a goal and having the willpower to strive for it, no matter what' is literally as important as the line between life and death.

You need to find a purpose for yourself that you personally believe in. Cause no matter how grand or how petty that purpose is, if you don't have one... you die!

With whether or not you actually succeed at that goal being completely irrelevant... to your conviction for it.

(Something, something, it's the ambition that you're living for, not whether or not you get the accolades at the end.)

A moral proclaiming the importance of "deciding upon a purpose of your own free will, and then pursuing that goal no matter what setbacks you encounter" is all nice and easy when you're main character e621, who experiences no setbacks because, as the player, you're necessarily going to be strongest fighter in the galaxy.

But it's pretty obvious how trite that is on its own, where your only canonical character trait is that you always win no matter what.

And so, Iguazu's purpose narratively is to show how, beyond any ounce of doubt whatsoever, that 'winning' is not a relevant part in what makes "having a purpose" so important, or so necessary.

In essence: It's what makes Iguazu live.

Start of the Game: Volta and Iguazu both want to beat up Michigan.

- Volta gives up, and then he gets sent by Michigan to die at the Wall.

- Iguazu deserts. And he does not die at the Wall.

After Gallia Dam he send you hatemail to say that the Redguns will scale the wall, but Iguazu himself doesn't even approach the Wall after this. As G4 Volta's last words reveal, he deserts before the operation is attempted.

Iguazu *himself* watches from the sidelines, costing him no less than an almost certain death like Volta's.

And the reason Iguazu changes his mind about scaling the wall with the Redguns is because, after Gallia Dam, Iguazu decides upon his purpose. His personal conviction.

Iguazu personal goal becomes -> He wants to kill you.

We love pathetic boys.

But the reason Iguazu deserts for the sake of this new goal is specifically because he wants to become stronger than 621, and not want his obligations as part of the Redguns to get in the way of this goal of his, he goes independent.

--- Correction ---

Iguazu deserts the Redguns at Watchpoint Alpha, prior to the death of G1 Michigan. He doesn't desert the Redguns at the Wall, he only goes Away WithOut Leave. The reason for which he goes AWOL being to take independent work, as we see an example of at Grid 086. Outcomes of everything are still the same, I just mixed up the order.

Also;

Volta: "Iguazu, listen, like, Michigan really like cares about us...! It's like we're part of his family, man, just give him a chance."

Volta: *Gives Michigan a chance*

Volta: *Gets killed under the leadership of G1 Michigan*

It's really funny but sad.

It's also really funny and sad how effective at Yank-bait G1 Michigan was.

But it's illustrative of how effective it is to break down someone's expectations and feelings of self-worth to legit 0, such that empty platitudes like simply saying the right words, like the names of the expendables themselves or to bring in the medical teams after a battle (as if they wouldn't have come otherwise?), will leave such an impression that they think you really do care about them--even in despite of how worthless they obviously are~!

And all at the same time as your direct actions and orders lead them straight to their meaningless avoidable deaths.

What could be more cost-efficient for your employers than soldiers who're literally suicidal for you, right?

Ha!

--- ---

And not only does this decision directly lead to Iguazu not dying at the Wall, but, no longer squeezed under G1 Michigan's boots, G5 even directly improves as a fighter.

This is shown in how his AI differs between his fighting at the Gallia Dam--where he's overly defensive, constantly having his shield up, despite wielding two guns.

And then, later at the Grid--where he actually fights aggressively like his AC's loadout is built for.

The second major encounter with Iguazu is Watchpoint Alpha where he either fights you directly, and dies there. Or he hires Coldcall to kill you, and survives elsewhere. Again, this is an instance of Iguazu's legitimate determination towards his chosen goal directly separating him from life and death.

When he hires Coldcall, Iguazu focuses on his goal, and let's go of distractions like his personal pride and image.

Ridiculous, right? Iguazu letting go of his pride?

But consider how it's directly Iguazu's personal feelings that lead him to facing 621 personally. He doesn't *just* want to kill you in that instant, he wants the glory of killing you as well.

But the accolades at the end aren't what makes it worthy to pursue a chosen goal.

Iguazu wants 621 dead. And when he hires Coldcall, this is him coming to terms with pursuing his goal, regardless of his personal setbacks. Iguazu faces the fact that he personally wouldn't be able to kill you. And, because he comes to term with this setback, he finds an alternative method that would still lead towards fulfilling his chosen purpose.

To confirm, of course, Iguazu's purpose is really dumb and terrible. But it's not whether one's chosen purpose is 'a good goal' or not that the value of pursuing it comes from. The value comes from it being one you decided for yourself, as opposed to, for, for example, by a corporation's profits. (Not a coincidence narratively how Balam's forces, united most in their complete idolization of G1 Michigan, following *his* word no matter what even knowingly to their deaths, are the deadmost losers in the story.)

Unlike for example e621's chosen conviction, or Rusty's chosen conviction, (Also no coincidence narratively that G1 Michigan, who only exists as the weapon of his corporation and put out a bounty for his own assassination--expressing how he has no personal plans for the future and literally wants to die--is guaranteed to be taken out by either of these two, no matter what.)

It's not the loftiness of a goal that determines if it's of worth to decide upon one of your own free will and pursue it in the first place.

The 'value' of pursuing a goal is unrelated to what that goal itself is.

What makes pursuing a goal valuable, is the conviction.

You don't have to be smart. You don't have to be emotionally mature. You don't have to be a good fighter. You don't even have to be brave.

You just need to choose your purpose and follow it.

This is what the motif of 'wings' and 'borrowed wings' are all about in the story as well. It's about pursuing a goal that was chosen by someone else, versus pursuing a goal that was chosen by you yourself.

"They choose what to fight for, and take to the skies in flight."

"One cannot fly on borrowed wings" in this case literally meaning that if you pursue a goal not because you want it, but because someone else wants it, it will directly lead to your death.

Criticizing their "borrowed wings" is what Ayre and Rusty chastise the RLF for for solely repeating slogans and "not bothering to think [for themselves]."

And Iguazu, deciding he doesn't care about how he'd be seen by others, and only caring for the goal itself to be accomplished. Survives, where Coldcall dies in his place.

Coldcall, a far superior fighter to Iguazu. Dies, instead of Iguazu, because he was flying for Iguazu's purpose -> Fighting on borrowed wings.

Etc etc "this is hell, we're in hell!" and so on and in the Alea Iacta Est true ending of the game Iguazu, outta nowhere!, becomes the legit Final Boss of Armored Core 6.

How the hell did this 4th-gen AC pilot, otherwise a completely random nobody without a purpose not given to him by his employer, get to outer space and stuff, right?

Well, consider how the complete rando that was e621 does the same: Their personal conviction.

"But Iguazu only got to become the final boss out of dumb luck," right? ALLMIND chose him for little else but that he was the only old-gen Augmented Human that was still alive. If ALLMIND wasn't there, he couldn't have accomplished anything, so obviously it can't actually be meaningful.

But how would 621 have escaped Institute City without being rescued by Carla? How would we have escaped Arquebus re-education without the AC that Handler Walter secretly assembled left for us?

And, most relevantly here since this is the Alea Iacta Est route itself: How would 621 have known about V.II Snail planning to ambush you in Institute City without ALLMIND herself's very assistance?

C4-621 is, at a glance, just as much a recipient of dumb luck as Iguazu.

But thematically, it's not pure happenchance.

It's the results of the both of these characters continuing to fight for a cause they chose to believe in, no matter what.

So Iguazu survives. He survives the hijacking of Watchpoint Alpha by ALLMIND. And he even goes so far as to survive the hijacking of his own brain by ALLMIND, taking over the final boss even after being assimilated.

"What essential difference made ACs superior to unpiloted craft?"

The answer is simple -> One cannot fly on borrowed wings.

Unpiloted craft can never have a purpose that is actually their own. They exist only for the person who's wings they borrow--who's purpose they serve--who built them.

That's why piloted ACs are better. *Not* on borrowed wings, in this case, they can fly higher.

For C4-621, that chosen goal is to achieve Coral Release. (Since it's is still the mission you yourself choose that finally puts you on the Alea Iacta Est route or not, it fits within the theme of free will. Even though, as a videogame, there's an obvious limit to just *how* much free will the player is actually able to express. Within the story, however, when 621 chooses the mission to begin the path to an ending, that's them deciding for themselves 100% that's that the goal they want to achieve, no matter what.)

For Iguazu, that chosen goal is to kill you. (The goal he wants to achieve, no matter what.)

And so, because he was not flying on borrowed wings. Iguazu survives fucking everything. Stupid wings, yeah. But that just shows: What matters is only that they were his own.

Even against the most powerful super duper AI mastermind that ALLMIND was, the biggest loser on Earth, G5 Iguazu, survived.

Where even she is made to give way to Iguazu's conviction -> Killing e621.

Hammering this point home is why "I'm only here for what *I* want! I don't care about ALLMIND's goals, just my own!" is basically the only thing Iguazu says across like 2 entire 3rds of the final boss.

Iguazu's chosen goal is not ultimately successful.

But it wasn't whether or not Iguazu ultimately killed 621 in Rubicon's exosphere that lead to him not dying at the Wall like G4 Volta, or at Watchpoint Alpha like G1 Michigan and Coldcall, or upon the destruction of his physical body by ALLMIND.

It was his conviction that lead him past those things. His WINGS!

He chose what to fight for, and he fought for it.

On the wings of his free will, Iguazu flew above even the very clouds of Rubicon itself.

And that's why he was the Final Boss.

The only thing able to finally kill him being the person with a conviction even greater, C4-621.

(As a sidenote; Taking account of the main moral of Armored Core 6 really puts into perspective how many trillions of times it gets repeated explicitly across the game lol.

VS Rusty, VS Rusty when he calls you "power without a purpose," VS Cinder Carla, VS Handler Walter, Ayre's description of what the name "Raven" is literally supposed to mean, etc.

They all talk about how you've chosen your path and you'd made sacrifices to get this far and you finally have a conviction that is your own and how big a deal that is and so on.)

[wwilsonbarness]

still not funny

pairings:  sam wilson x bucky barnes

summary: basically a continuation of the deleted scene <3 

warnings: fluff, tinyyyyy bit of angst

word count: 1932

a/n: I love them so much and after seeing the deleted scene I just had to write this!! 

Feedback, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) 

I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted or translated on any other platform.

masterlist

“Thank you for bringing us cake uncle Bucky!” Aj shouts across the table. 

“You’re welcome boys.” Bucky responds, playfully nudging Sam with a smirk. 

“I’m still their favourite uncle so don’t go getting any ideas.” Sam says shooting Bucky a glare.

“We’ll see.” Bucky returns the same look.

“Alright, alright I’m sure the boys love you both plenty, right boys?” 

A mix of “Yep” and “Mhmm Mama” come from Aj and Cass making everyone laugh lightly. 

Bucky couldn’t help but look to his side, focusing on the smile lines on Sam’s face. The way they moved as he looked around at his family. The way his smile kept growing as Sarah and the boys speak about the activities they’re planning tomorrow. He doesn’t realise how long he’s staring until Sam turns to him, toothy grin and all. “Something caught your eye Buck?” He says, his smirk only growing. 

He blinks as Sam’s voice breaks him out of his trance. “Hm? What? No I was just-” He rambles, only stopping when Sam moves his hand towards Bucky’s arm and squeezes slightly. 

“Chill man, I’m just messing with ya.”

Bucky laughs but before he can respond, Sarah calls his name. “You staying here tonight, Bucky?” 

“Oh, I- no that’s okay. Thanks Sarah.” Sam shoots him a look of confusion and answers again for him.

“Yes, he’s staying here tonight.” Bucky looks at him and mirrors the confusion on his face. 

“Guys I really don’t mind getting a room at a motel.”

“Nonsense!” Sarah exclaims as she stands up from the table. “Boys, get ready for bed and I’ll set up the couch for Bucky.” 

“It’s okay Sarah, I’ll do it. You just chill for the night.” Sam says. He gets up to hug the boys and Sarah goodnight. Bucky does the same.

“You sure?” She asks. 

“Yeah I got it.” He says. 

“Okay, goodnight then.” 

“Night!” Bucky says as she walks away before he turns to Sam.

“You know I really don’t mind getting a hotel room Sam.” He says slightly quieter than his normal voice. He didn’t really want to get a hotel room but he equally didn’t want to impose on Sam and his family.

“Come on now, you’re part of the family now Buck, there’s always going to be room for you here.” Sam reassures him with a pat on the back. They both begin to walk up to the house and Bucky heads for the couch. 

“Hey Sam?” Bucky shouts through to the kitchen where Sam was quickly finishing the clean up from the cookout. 

“Yeah?” 

“You got a spare pillow? Maybe a blanket?” 

“Yeah, in my room, hang on.” He puts away the last bowl and strolls through. Bucky could almost see a slight smirk on his face but had no idea why. 

“You know, I can’t really be bothered going all the way up, back down the stairs and all the way back up again.” Sam groans. He had been subtly hinting at Bucky to make a move but he hadn’t caught on, so Sam decided to up the stakes.

Bucky’s a bit confused but responds anyway. “Oh umm, I can get it? Where are they?” He heads for the stairs but stops on the first step, turning to Sam to wait for his answer. 

“Or” Sam trails off. “You could just stay in my room. Beds big enough for both of us.” Sam notices Bucky’s eyes practically fall out the sockets in surprise and suddenly worries that he might’ve overstepped. 

“Oh.” Bucky clears his throat before continuing, he pushes together his thumb and index finger, a nervous tic he had recently developed. “Yeah.. I- okay. If that’s okay with you?.” Truthfully the thought of sleeping in the same bed as Sam was a lot. He hadn’t even really admitted it to himself but there were feelings there, on his part anyway. Spending time with Sam, whether it was fighting on a mission or just sitting with him on the jet made him get a funny feeling inside his chest and he didn’t know how to handle it.

“Wouldn't ask if it wasn't.” Sam responds with a light chuckle. He follows Bucky up the stairs. Sam’s heart was beginning to race and he prayed Bucky couldn’t here it. 

Bucky walks into Sam’s room and looks around. He’d only ever seen it in photos and once on a video call, but it was just as he imagined. It was tidy but had loads of little trinkets around. He sees photos of Sam with Riley, his parents and a baby he assumes is Cass or Aj. There’s also a diary, it looks like it had been read a lot but it had a pen sticking out. Maybe a journal, Bucky thought.

Below the photo wall is a bottle of aftershave, he couldn’t smell it but he guessed it was the smell he had become so used to smelling on Sam. The one that he had grown so attached to recently. It made him feel silly, being attached to a smell but it also made him feel safe and that was a feeling he had been craving ever since he fell off that train in the 40’s. 

He turns to the left and sees Sam’s bed, it was covered in blankets and looked so comfy. It had been a while since he had slept in a bed, his apartment back in new york had a bed but he hadn’t once slept in it. He begins to think about whether he’ll be able to sleep okay but Sam’s voice cuts him off. 

“It’s a hard one.” 

Bucky turns around quickly and looks at Sam, he turns his head slightly, urging Sam to continue. 

“The mattress I mean. Soft beds are the worst. Ya know?” 

“Right.” Bucky says. He hated that Sam had those struggles but it  made him feel better that he wasn’t the only one who did.

Bucky goes to the bathroom first and changes into a pair of sweatpants and vest. He brushes his teeth and heads back to Sam’s room. Sam does the same but takes a little longer, he had a more detailed night routine. He changes into a pair of shorts and leaves his shirt off. He takes the time to wash and moisturise his face and walks back to the room. 

You got a side you prefer Buck?”

“By the door? If that’s okay with you?” 

“Yep.” 

They get into bed and Sam turns all the lights off, just leaving a lamp on his side table on. The room is silent but he can hear Bucky’s deep breathing. “You alright?” 

“Yeah.” Bucky chuckles to try to hide his embarrassment but Sam notices his cheeks warming up and turn a shade of red. “Just been a while since I shared a bed with someone.” 

“Are you uncomfortable?” Sam asks. 

“No! God no!” He wanted to tell Sam he could never feel uncomfortable with him around but he held back. “I just.. The only time I ever really shared a bed was with a girl back in the day.” He admits with a shy grin. 

Sam’s eyebrows raise at that and he takes a deep breath before responding “Is this so different?” He can’t help but chuckle when Bucky’s eyes do that thing again, they really would fall out if it kept happening. 

“Hm?” 

“Is this so different from then?”

“Sam.” Bucky calls his name.

“Bucky.” Sam responds in the same tone.

“Do you..”

“Do I..” 

Bucky takes a breath, he knows what he wants to say but he just can’t get it out. “Do you feel this.. thing between us?” Sam really can’t help his full laugh coming out this time.

“Thing?” He asks, waiting for Bucky to say what he’s really thinking. 

“Sam, If I’ve taken this the wrong way please tell me now to save me the embarrassment.” 

“How can I know unless you tell me?” He was really gonna make him say it wasn’t he?

“Sam, I like you.” 

“I’d hope so, we are partners after all.” Sam teases, he regrets it as he sees Bucky’s face drop. 

“Right.” Bucky nods his head slightly. “Partners.” He starts to turn back and lie down but stops when he feels Sam’s hand on his arm. 

“Oh my god, you idiot! Come here.” With that, Sam pulls Bucky towards him by the neckline of his vest and plants his lips against Bucky’s. The feeling of Sam’s soft lips melting into his was one he didn't think could ever be beaten. It’s a messy kiss and both of them don’t want it to end. Bucky’s the one to pull away, needing a second to catch his breath. He pulls away only slightly and presses his forehead against Sam’s. 

Sam’s tongue comes out his mouth and licks along his lips, chasing the taste of Bucky he had finally gotten after craving it for so long. “I do.” He whispers. Bucky pulls away further and looks at Sam, urging him to continue. “I do feel that thing.” 

Bucky chuckles at that, he feels shy and hides his head in the crook of Sam’s neck for a second. He couldn’t believe he had finally gotten to touch Sam in the way he way too often thought about. 

“What took us so long?” He asks softly but it comes out as a mumble against Sam’s skin. Sam pulls away slightly and places his hands on Bucky’s face. 

“What was that?” He asks and Bucky repeats himself but can’t bring himself to look in Sam’s eyes. 

“I’d say we’ve had a lot on our plates, it didn’t exactly leave us a lot of time to be alone.” Bucky nods along, it’s true. There was always someone or something in their way. “Plus, I like seeing you flustered. It’s cute so I had to play a little.” Sam teases. 

“Hey! I was not flustered.” Bucky argues playfully to which Sam laughs at.

“Buck, I honestly thought your eyes were gonna pop out of your head when I suggested sleeping up here.” Bucky feels his cheeks heat up even more.

“How else was I supposed to react? Sleeping in your bed with you in it.” 

“Aw baby are you getting all flustered again?” 

“You’re so annoying Sam.” Bucky playfully rolls his eyes and hides his smirk.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” They look into each other's eyes for a moment before he responds. 

“Yeah, I really do.” The unspoken true meaning of their words float between them but neither of them bring them to light. 

“Alright enough swooning.” Sam teases. “As much as I’d love to look into your eyes all night, we need to sleep.” 

“Come here then.” Bucky responds, pulling Sam down towards the bed with him. He pulls Sam into his chest and lets him wiggle around until he’s comfy. Their legs tangle under the blanket and Sam rests his arm over Bucky.. “This okay?” Bucky asks. 

“Mhmm. S’perfect.” Sam mumbles. 

It’s silent for a few moments before Bucky breaks it. 

“Sam?” 

“Yeah Buck?” 

“You think Sarah is free after their plans tomorrow?”

“Buck! It’s still not funny!” 

Bucky can’t hold off his laughter.

“It will never not be funny Sam.” He speaks more softly as he continues. “Don’t worry, there’s only one Wilson I got my eyes on.” 

With that he pressed a gentle kiss onto Sam’s forehead and closed his eyes. 

“Goodnight Doll.”  He heard Sam giggle at that and it was the best sound he had ever heard, until Sam responded in his sleepy voice. “Goodnight Babe”

[conteststarribbon]

sequel post that im not tagging and will be embarrassed about both if people interact and if they do not.

anyway im going to yap about my oc focused au that is purely me taking parts of canon and running wild w it. a lot of my headcanon posts come from my ideas for this .

long and probably incoherent post warning

unsure if i've mentioned this but i kinda fucked around w canon w my ocs by having two of my save files both take the place of the mc/player together (the 3rd is meant to be an AA player oc but is in AO for obvious reasons. might try make them in arcane reborn or WOM?). two of them now!! (and they both trans because it's happened with all my ocs. either literally or some other form of change that can be interpreted as a metaphor for transition)

ok so heres some of the lore for them i cooked up . they're pretty distantly related (ancestors a few generations back were siblings, so some form of cousins i think?) and don't know of eachother's existence until they end up sorta becoming rivals because one is in the navy and the other being an assassin, starting after they join respective groups at like age 14-15 (unsure whether to just make that them lying about their age or just having these organisations not care about how old the people joining are. mix of both probably considering assassin syndicate has everyone be basically disguised and grand navy is already shady in canon).

they keep meeting each other and fighting and kinda become friends (using that very loosely here) during that time and realise that they both are essentially giving up their lives for organisations that are not the best tbh and they're more similar than they thought. everything is basically ok for a year until assassin oc is actually arrested and is basically automatically scheduled to get executed because they're kinda high in terms of rank.

they get freed by navy oc who was hidden and disguised in the crowd that showed up for the execution, which causes a big fight and they both end up running and are both presumed dead because there's no trace of them. navy oc is sort of used as an example of good service or something and their stuff at the navy base is just not touched by anyone and kept in storage with other people's belongings + there's a memorial for them and any other navy casualties put up somewhere (unsure on the location yet but close to the navy base)

up until this point both ocs only know each other by last names by overhearing other people. they introduce themselves to each other in the middle of getting the hell out of there w new names and stuff. they do not escape uninjured. in fact they are both quite injured!!

they survive that mess and end up just living life and trying to avoid attention by constantly moving around for a few months. unfortunately the sight of these two weirdly powerful literal teens (both around 16 at this point) that people are seeing in a lot of places spreads and it reaches the wrong people!!!

anyway this is where canon starts with the whole kidnapping human experimentation whatever the heck. even more permanent injuries and other stuff!? first appearance of canon characters in the form of morden and tucker. they all spend way too much time there and are like around 18. escape attempt time !!! ok yall know this part, tucker dies, player gets memory loss and everything else. insert basically all my goofy silly AO headcanons i've posted abt here.

and thats it basically for stuff that happens before canon

oh yeah and basically all of AA is happening at roughly the same time as this

[brave-and-gentle]

Stitches: Reader x Jean Fluff Part 4

Welcome to - *waves* whatever this is. I originally called it my fluff mini series but I keep extending it.

If this is your first time here, please check out Part 1 Part 2 and Part 3.

If you like this mini series, be sure to check out my original character x Jean fic on Ao3 here

Pairings: femme reader x Jean

Summary: You begin to unravel the mystery of why your "situationship" with Jean hasn't progressed.

Warnings: none here

Word count: ~4.9K

Although you are exhausted after your night with Jean, you hardly sleep that night. Your mind races, twists and turns. You're torn between how much fun you had at the poetry slam and wine bar – very intimate settings – and the obvious way Jean pulled away from you at the very end of the night. It didn't make any sense. Why kiss you several weeks ago, why ask you out like that – and then nothing?

The Thursday work day is brutal. You trudge through your work, mindlessly checking patients in for their appointments, barely able to keep your eyes open until finally, you reach the last hour before the clinic closes.

You're unsure whether to look forward to trivia with your friends tonight. It's another chance to see Jean – another chance to get your hopes up. And you fear you've already gotten them up far too high. Maybe you shouldn't go.

You pull out your phone to find a few unread texts from Sasha that you've purposely ignored.

You should've woken me up this morning – I wanna know how it went last night with Jean!

Girl, do not leave me hanging!!

Spill. The. Tea.

If you don't spill soon I'm going straight to the horse's mouth. Hehe – get it??

Your stomach sinks down to your feet. You twist back and forth in your chair behind the clinic check-in desk. It's hard to let Sasha down.

It was fun. But I don't think he likes me like that. He's just flirty.

She responds immediately.

Girl please. I have never seen Jean be “just flirty” with anyone. You and I both know who he's going to try to sit next to at trivia tonight.

Releasing a sigh, you lean back in your chair. For once, you really don't have the mental energy to hang out with your friends. Missing one night shouldn't be a big deal, right? Everyone missed one every once in a while.

Actually, I don't know if I'll go tonight. I'm pretty tired.

What?? Pleeeeease :) it's more fun with you! :)

An uncontrollable smile spreads across your face. Sasha is all too persuasive, or maybe you're too persuadable. After Historia moved out, you dreaded evenings and weekends without any friends to hang out with. But it didn't take long for Sasha to plead with you to come to trivia with her friends and rave about how much she loved your company. It's nice to know someone wants you there – even if it's not Jean.

Maybe I'll take a nap before.

Yay! I'm working late so I'll head straight to the bar straight after. See you there :)

~ ~ ~

You lie on your bed, phone up to your ear in one hand and your other hand is gesticulating up to the ceiling.

“What does he want from me?” You demand from your best friend even though she's just as clueless as you. “I mean, we kiss the first night we hang out, he paints a fucking picture of me, he practically takes me out on a date – but nothing since that first kiss. Who does that?”

“Well,” Historia says your name in her soft voice, “you know, you've been. . .”

“What?” You demand.

“It's just um. . .oh, don't make me say it!”

“C'mon Historia.” You flip over to your stomach. “You know you can tell me anything. Hit me with it.”

“Well, you've kinda been doing the same thing. Giving mixed signals. You haven't made a move with Jean either, have you? Not since you went to see the ice sculptures?”

Your body tenses. Historia is right. You're just as guilty.

“No,” you answer with force. “I think I used up my bold moves that night.”

“What if you just tell him how you feel?”

“What if I just walk into five lanes of traffic?”

Historia says your name in an exasperated tone.

“What! It'd basically be the same feeling,” you defend.

“You asked my opinion and I gave it.”

“Ugh, yeah I know. It's almost unfair how much Ymir has rubbed off on you.” Historia rarely called you out on your bullshit, so when she did, you knew it was real. You look at your watch. 6:30 pm. You should be walking to trivia now. “Look, I gotta go. I'll catch up with you later?”

“Sure. Just remember – you deserve better. You don't have to take table scraps from anyone.”

You cringe, knowing exactly what Historia is referencing. She held you while you cried after the guy you dated for a year in college dumped you out of the blue because he “just didn't see a future together.” It should've been obvious from the beginning since he hardly ever made an effort to see you. Though it was a couple years ago, the old wound still aches sometimes. Historia and Ymir were your emotional stitches, but there was still a scar.

“Yeah, I know,” you say softly. “Anyways. Say hi to Ymir for me?”

“Always,” Historia says.

~ ~ ~

You rush through the bar doors knowing you're a little late. Trivia hasn't started yet, but all of your new friends are already seated with a drink in front of them. A few perk up to wave and greet you.

“Sorry guys!” You apologize and unwrap your scarf. Trost has slowly been warming up but it's still snowing. You're a little sweaty from running over despite the cold.

“No worries, saved you a seat!” Sasha leans back to wave at you from the middle of the table.

“Thanks,” you breath and take off your hat. You attempt to smooth down your hair while you take a seat next to Sasha. You turn to your left and -

It's Jean.

Of course. Sasha purposely saved you a seat between her and Jean.

Jean is wearing a light purple t-shirt. You've never seen him in a t-shirt before. His biceps are well defined and somehow still tanned despite it being winter.

“You good?” He asks you and tilts his head. You blush, not realizing how hard you were staring.

“Yeah, you uh, have paint on your shirt.” You poke a yellow splotch on his chest and wonder if his chest is as well defined as his biceps. And maybe something else is well defined – no no no, lord, grant me the strength to stop my unholy thoughts, you pray, though you've never been religious.

“Ah, shit.” Jean looks down and dabs the yellow splotch. “It's already dry.”

“Must've been a good time at the studio today?” You ask, attempting to clear your head.

“Yeah, really good,” he nods. “Actually,” he pauses and bites his bottom lip. He finally makes eye contact with you. “Would you mind coming to the studio sometime soon? Maybe tomorrow or Saturday? I have an idea.”

You raise your eyebrows. “And you need me?”

“Yes.” Jean nods with force. “I figured I should ask this time.”

“Oh.” Surprise ripples through your body. Is Jean asking to paint you? You're flustered, unsure how to respond. On one hand, it's flattering that he wants to use you for inspiration again – and involve you. On the other, it seems far too romantic for “friends.”

Pink flushes Jean's face as he waits for you to respond more. “Ah, never mind, it's a dumb idea.” He waves. “You don't have to.”

“No, I uh -”

“Hey everyone!” Eren calls the group to attention. He sits directly across from Jean. “I want to make a toast.” He wraps his arm around Mikasa, who leans into him and smiles. Her black hair falls like a curtain over half her face. Eren raises his drink in the air and waits for everyone else to follow his motion. “To my beautiful girlfriend Mikasa, whose birthday is tomorrow. And – we just celebrated our one-year anniversary. I wouldn't have gotten the guts to finally ask her out if it weren't for you all.”

Your friends give a mix of cheering and “awww.”

“Get a room already!” Connie berates the couple.

You grab the glass of water in front of you and raise it in celebration.

But you notice Eren isn't gazing back at Mikasa like you'd expect. No, his green eyes are piercing straight ahead.

At Jean.

Who is staring right back at Eren. Jean's fist shakes under the table, out of sight for everyone except you.

And in that moment, you realize.

Eren's toast isn't meant to praise Mikasa, though that's how almost everyone was interpreting it. No, it's a taunt.

For Jean.

Who nearly blew up when you two ran into Eren and Mikasa at the ice sculptures. Who insisted you were friends. Who backed away from you after the wine bar.

A burning question crashes down on you.

Does Jean has a thing for Mikasa?

Is that why he's avoided a second kiss?

Your stomach twists and stings. You take a small sip of your water as everyone says “cheers” and wishes Mikasa a happy birthday.

Jean's eyes wander over to you. He puts his beer down.

“Oh hey, you're missing a drink,” he points out. He licks a bit of foam off his upper lip. “Can I grab you anything?” He jabs his thumb at the bar behind him.

“No, I don't want anything,” you say and cross your arms. Jean raises his eyebrows at your curt, yet polite tone.

“Ah, okay.” He turns away and chats with Reiner on his other side. You're actually dying for a drink. Something to dull your senses would be fantastic, but you sit through all the trivia rounds without getting anything out of sheer stubborn will.

It's not about the drink, of course.

Jean doesn't try to talk to you again. It's as if you've built a wall in between the two of you.

And that's how it should be. How it needs to be. You can't delude yourself any longer.

You and Jean are just friends.

Just. Friends.

~ ~ ~

Connie is once again crashing your weekly movie night with Sasha. Though the two of you don't mind too much, you have one rule for Connie: no complaining about the movie choice.

“The Devil Wears Prada? Haven't you seen this a million times?” Connie holds up the battered DVD case like it's the sandwich Sasha forgot under the couch last week.

“Uh uh uh!” You wag the knife you're using to cut green bell peppers at him. “You know the rules, no complaining about our movie choice.”

“Especially since you weren't even invited,” Sasha's voice drips with acid as she gives him the side eye. Beside you, she continues rolling out the pizza dough. Friday night movie nights were your idea – a relaxing night in to recover after the chaos of Thursday night trivia with your new friends.

“Alright, fine fine.” Connie collapses into the couch cushions. “Why do you two like this movie so much anyways?”

“Because!” You erupt, throwing your hands in the air, one of them still wielding the knife. “It's the early 2000s rise of girl boss feminism. Miranda, who symbolizes white girl capitalism, is made out to be the main villain. She is a villain, but the real one, the one we didn't see when we were young, naive girls is Nate – the evil boyfriend who hates Andie for exploring fashion and her feminine side. But!” You pause for dramatic effect. “Andie is also a problem as she trades her relationships for capitalist success. In this essay I will. . .” you trail off and smirk.

“Sheesh,” Connie mutters. “Didn't realize this was an English class. No wonder you and Jean get along.”

“You don't have to be here,” you remind him and ignore the comment about Jean.

“Ugh. Lemme see what our dear Jeanboy is doing tonight.” At the mention of Jean's name, you peer over to watch Connie pull out his phone while you slice another bell pepper.

A sharp sting rips through your thumb.

“Agh!” You yell and pull your thumb away from the knife and cutting board. Distracted by the mention of Jean, you had sliced your thumb instead of the pepper. Sasha grabs a wad of paper towels and hands them to you. You squeeze down on your thumb and blood soaks through the paper towels.

“You good?” Sasha places an arm around you and guides you to sit on the couch next to Connie.

“I think so?” You answer, but your shaking voice tells another story.

“Let's see. . .” Sasha peels back the bloody wad with a gentle touch to reveal a deep cut. Your skin is split wide open and gushes blood.

“Yuck.” Connie leaps off the couch. “That looks nasty. Want me to call Marco? I don't think he's working tonight.”

You shrug, unsure if your cut actually needs stitches. Connie dials up Marco regardless of your indecision.

“Hey Marco – we need your man nurse skills . . .what, no! Not for me.” He clarifies that it's for you.

“Is this a regular occurrence?” You ask Sasha.

“Connie has abused Marco's skills so many times,” she laughs. “He refuses to help him anymore. You're a first timer though, so I'll bet anything he'll be over soon.”

Sure enough, Connie announces that Marco will be over in a few minutes.

“Anyways,” he flops back onto the couch, “I'll stick around until then at least.”

“Good call, literally,” you say.

Your mind wanders back to the reason you were so distracted. Heat rises to your face as you realize these are the safest people to ask what you've been wondering about Jean – and Mikasa.

“Hey. . . can I ask you guys something?”

“Sure!” Sasha beams and wraps another layer of paper towels around your thumb. Connie scrolls aimlessly through Instagram.

“About Jean . . . did he and Mikasa ever. . .you know?” You dance around your question, unsure of how to phrase it. Connie's head jerks up. Your heart pounds in anticipation. Did they date? Did they fuck? You gnaw on the inside of your cheek.

“Mmm, I'm not really sure,” Sasha muses and avoids eye contact. “Jean definitely had a thing for her when they met a couple years ago, but obviously nothing came of it.”

“But nothing happened – at all?” You press.

“Jeanboy doesn't kiss and tell,” Connie sighs. “I asked him once and he almost punched me. So if something did happen, we don't know. He's no fun.”

“Maybe you could ask Marco?” Sasha lightens up. “Those two have been tight forever. He's the only one that would know for sure.”

*knock knock*

“Speak of the devil,” Connie says and gets up to grab the door. “Marco, you've come to save her from bleeding out!”

Marco steps through the door with a small kit in hand.

“Hey,” Marco breathes your name and shivers from the lingering cold. “What happened?” He asks as he strips off his coat. Red from the bitter cold is spread across his freckled face.

“I uh, had an incident with a knife,” you explain and hold out your thumb. Marco walks over to you and Sasha on the couch. You realize he's almost as tall as Jean because as he kneels in front of you, he can still make level eye contact. With a gentle touch, he peels back the paper towel to reveal your wound.

“Yikes,” he frowns, “you're definitely going to need stitches.”

You involuntarily cringe.

“Alright, two options,” Marco continues and sits back on his heels. “I can take you to the urgent care I work at, or if you really trust me, we can do it here.”

“Ten out of ten recommend Doctor Marco!” Connie yells from the kitchen as he rifles through the cupboard for snacks.

“Not a doctor,” Marco mutters and shakes his head. “Anyways, I can do stitches in my sleep, but I can understand if you'd rather go to urgent care.”

“No, I trust you. Plus, I really don't fee like dropping a couple hundred dollars on stitches.” Ironically, the clinic you worked at didn't offer a very good health insurance plan.

“Sounds good,” Marco smiles. “Bathroom okay?”

“Yep.” You stand up and “Woah. . .”

Purple dots cloud your vision. Cotton balls fill your ears.

“Easy there.” Marco grabs your waist to steady you. “Hey Sasha? Connie? Can you go grab her some Gatorade or something?”

“On it!” Sasha jumps off the coach and grabs her purple puffy coat. At the same time, Connie whines, “But it's cold and dark out there!”

“C'mon.” Sasha grabs Connie and drags him to the front door. “Our comrade needs our help.”

“Fine,” he mutters and throws his coat on. “Good luck, you better still be alive when we come back.”

You wave to your friends as they leave.

“What's the Gatorade for?” You ask and steady yourself as your vision restores.

“Mostly to get those two outta here, they're kinda distracting.” Marco rubs the nape of his neck. “But you do also look a little pale. Some sugar and electrolytes should help with that.”

Marco grabs two chairs from the kitchen and places them in front of the bathroom sink.

“This shouldn't take too long. First, let's clean it,” he explains and takes out a packet of antiseptic wipes from his kit. He dabs your wound with a wipe and it instantly stings. You hiss and clench your fist. “That's the worst part – and it's over. Do you normally get squeamish around blood?”

“It's not really the blood,” you explain. “It's more like the anticipation.”

“Ah, anxiety?” He asks and prepares for the stitches. “Armin's like that too,” he chuckles. “He practically passed out during our first nursing rotations in school.”

“Wait, Armin was in nursing school with you?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Nursing school yes, but different ones. We were in the same rotation at the hospital though, that's how we met. I invited him to hang out with us and he brought Eren and Mikasa. That's how we all became friends. Armin ended up on the research of side of things instead, which he's much more suited for. He's brilliant. Oh – you might want to put your head down or look away for this.” Marco pauses and gives you a serious look. “It won't hurt much, but we can't have you passing out.”

“Oh, sure.” You comply and turn your head away, placing your chin on your free hand.

“So that means you all met what – your senior year?”

“Yep.” Marco idly confirms. You feel a gentle tugging on your skin.

“Marco . . . can I ask you a question? A personal one?” The tugging on your skin stops. “Not about you though,” you quickly explain.

“Oh.” The tugging resumes. “Sure.” The question burns on your lips.

“Did anything ever happen between Jean and Mikasa?” The burning on your lips blazes to your cheeks.

“Ah.” Marco clears his throat. “I thought you might ask about that.”

“Really?” Surprise ripples through your body.

“Yeah, Jean's been talking about you a lot lately. I figured something was going on. Anyways. . .” he trails off, concentrating on your last two stitches. “What I can tell you is that Jean was really into her when they first met at that party I mentioned.”

Your stomach turns.

“And did anything ever come of it?”

Marco hesitates.

“Look, I don't know if I should be sharing this with anyone -”

“Please, Marco?” You turn and plead with his light brown eyes. You're so desperate for information that a confession doesn't even phase you. “I like him. And I need to know. . . if he's hung up on someone else. I don't want to waste my time. Or get hurt. Please?”

Marco sighs. “Alright. They went on a date. One date.” He finishes off the stitches and avoids eye contact with you. “Jean asked and she said yes. He didn't tell me a ton, but he came home really happy that night. A couple days later, we all hear that Mikasa and Eren are officially a couple. I asked Jean what happened and he just growled at me. That's all I know.”

Your jaw actually drops. You stare at Marco open mouthed. You barely register that he's done with the stitches as he puts his supplies away. “So she went on a date with Jean and then immediately started dating Eren??”

Marco whips back over to look at you. “Oh, but please don't think poorly of Mikasa! She's not a bad person.” Now it's his turn to plead with you.

You remain silent. It's almost unthinkable. Admittedly you don't know Mikasa very well, but she's always seemed like a kind, introverted soul. What would posses her to do something like that? Flashes of anger heat your body despite Marco's insistence. That must've really hurt Jean.

“You really don't know what happened? Nothing at all?” You press your lips together in a tight line.

“No,” Marco shakes his head and stands up. “I wish I did. Jean was pretty bent out of shape about it for a while, but he's not exactly the kind to easily share his feelings.”

“You got that right,” you huff. “Be honest with me – do you think I'm wasting my time with Jean?”

Marco pauses in thought. He leans against the sink and crosses his arms. “No, not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I get the sense he likes you,” he smiles. “But,” his smile disappears, “I gotta be honest, I couldn't say if he's over Mikasa. It's been about a year, so maybe, but like I said, I don't even know everything that happened.” He shrugs. “But I think it's worth talking to Jean about it. Ask him and he'll probably be more honest with you than with me.”

“Sure,” you nod slowly. “It's just that. . . feelings are hard.” Your gaze lingers on your newly stitched up thumb. Telling Jean you like him and asking about Mikasa feels on par with ripping out your new stitches. And pouring more alcohol into the wound.

“Yeah, I get that,” Marco agrees. “I guess it depends on how much he's worth it to you.”

~ ~ ~

The movie night is a perfect distraction from the ulcer growing in your stomach from thinking about Jean. You and Sasha cackle throughout the movie, quoting lines from memory and imitating Miranda's stern look.

“I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.”

“CERULEAN!!”

“Florals? For spring? Groundbreaking.”

Despite Connie's griping, he stays the entire time and as per usual, falls asleep on your couch. After the movie, you crawl into bed and check your phone.

You have an unread text from Jean.

See you tomorrow morning?

You groan. Tomorrow is your scheduled Saturday morning creative date with Jean. Not date, you correct yourself. Your mind wanders back to what Marco said. Was figuring out what's up with Jean worth it to you? With the way he looked at Mikasa and his frustration with Eren, it seemed like he wasn't over what happened – dangerous territory. You weren't in too deep now, you try to convince yourself. You only kissed once. And sure, you're crushing, but crushes fade. You chew on the inside of your cheek, unsure of how to proceed. So you choose to avoid.

I'll have to sit this one out, not feeling great :/

Technically it's the truth. You don't think you'll get much writing done with Jean across the table from you. And you don't feel great – mentally or physically. Overthinking was getting exhausting, and your stitches were aching despite the pain killers Marco gave you. Your phone buzzes.

Ah, that's right, Marco told me about the stitches. That sucks! Do you need anything?

Nope, Sasha's got me covered. Don't need anything.

~ ~ ~

The next few days move at, well – a glacial pace.

You don't write at all.

Your wound under the stitches aches.

You think about Jean and Mikasa the entire time.

On Monday, Jean texts you an interesting article about world building, but you don't respond. In truth, you're dying to talk with him again. You don't realize how much you enjoy his company until you skip your creative date. You miss talking about art and writing with him. You miss that he takes it seriously in a way that your other friends didn't. You miss how open you could be with each other – well, for the most part.

You're taking your lunch break on Wednesday when you get another text from Jean.

Hey, you feeling better? Up for wine and writing/art tonight?

You sigh and tap your fingers over and over again on the table. Maybe the best decision is to cut it off now. The last time you admitted vulnerability, it didn't so well.

After months of dating that guy on your floor in college, you grew tired of only seeing him on his terms. You never felt like you could ask to see him. You were always waiting for him to text you. You even canceled plans with Historia in hopes that he might want to do something. You hated it. You began to hate yourself for how pathetic you became.

So you told him. You told him how you wanted to see each other more. You wanted to actually build a relationship, not just hang out with someone at parties on weekends. Your face burned and your voice shook, but you were proud of yourself for standing up for once.

And then he broke up with you. Right then and there.

And that was it.

You pull yourself back to the present moment and text Jean back.

I have plans tonight, sorry.

Text bubbles pop up and you brace yourself for impact.

Oh, okay.

Your stomach drops. You turn your phone off and shove the rest of your lunch back in the staff fridge. You're being rude to Jean, you know it. You hate yourself for it.

But this is for the best.

~ ~ ~

Once work is finally over, you hop on the train home and stop by the local liquor store. You might not be getting wine with Jean tonight, but you sure as hell want a glass of wine. Or two. Or three. Anything to get Jean off your mind. And with Sasha out tonight with Nicolo, you need a distraction.

As you walk toward the store, you admire at the blush pink sunset. Mid-February is still freezing in Trost, but at least it's now light when you get home, albeit just barely.

You mindlessly roam the aisles until you find the boxed wine section. In college, you and Historia always opted for boxes over bottles. It was the economically smart decision and neither of you were well versed enough in wine to tell much of a difference between a box and a fancy bottle.

Although you prefer a chardonnay, you grab a pink wine knowing that it's Sasha's favorite.

A large hand clamps down on your wrist as you're mere inches away from the box.

“C'mon, you are breaking my heart with that.” You jerk your head up to see what stranger has rudely interrupted you.

But it's no stranger.

It's Jean.

You are quite literally caught red-handed. Or pink-handed.

Despite your internal insistence that you are just friends, that you need to avoid Jean, your heart leaps with affection at the sight of him in his parka and knitted hat. Then your heart squeezes tight with guilt when you remember that you canceled on him tonight – and here you are, at the liquor store getting ready for a night alone.

“Hey, nothing wrong with box wine,” you grin in spite of yourself. You can't help smiling in his presence.

“There is everything wrong with box wine,” Jean groans and tilts his head back, exposing a glimpse of his throat. “I gotta have you over sometime and re-educate you since apparently the wine bar wasn't enough.”

You offer a noncommittal smile in return. “Anyways,” you clear your throat and give your captured wrist a pointed look. Jean releases his grip and you grab the pink box wine. “I gotta get going.”

“Oh, that's right.” Jean adjusts his winter hat, which fails to cover up his lengthening hair. “So uh – what are you up to tonight?”

“Girl's night with Sasha,” you blurt. It's the first thing you think of since she's part of the reason you're getting the pink wine.

Jean frowns. “Doesn't she have a date with Nicolo tonight? He's been telling me for weeks about this concert they're going to tonight.”

“Oh um. . . “ you trail off. Your entire body is frozen like you've stepped outside, blasted by Trost's bitter winter season. Once again, you're caught. You fumble and stutter, struggling to come up with another excuse.

The hurt flashing in Jean's hazel eyes cuts through you like the knife to your thumb. He sees right through your lie.

“Ah.” He rocks back on his heels. “Got it.” He nods and swallows. “Message received.” He turns on his heels and walks away from you.

Desperation surges through your body. You've wounded him, and you want to stitch it up.

“Jean, wait! I didn't mean -” Your protests are useless. Jean has left the liquor store empty handed.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

You make a bee line to the register to pay for your box wine.

Maybe it'll be four glasses tonight.

[auxiliarydetective]

Sanji/Cora/Zoro Fic Snippets, Part 2

More of the prompts that @starcrossedjedis sent me!

These are both a bit more on the shorter side, hope you don't mind! Also, I originally promised myself I was gonna do fluff only, but a little bit of hurt/comfort snuck into the second one ^^"

Enjoy!

💛 Reunion Kiss/Relief

Cora was leaning over the railing, waiting for Usopp to come back up with Sanji. Whatever had happened to Sanji over the last two years, it was concerning, to say the least.

“That idiot,” Zoro grumbled, coming up behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist.

That was… new. Well, one of those things.

Cora chuckled. “You’re always so nice to him… Glad to know at least that hasn’t changed.”

Zoro spun her around in his arms, then placed a rough hand beneath her chin and kissed her on the lips. The kiss was oddly gentle, yet desperate at the same time, and all the while just as rough as Zoro’s kisses always were. It was the comfort that Cora had been yearning for for the last two years, mixed with the thrill of something new. When Zoro finally pulled away from her, she immediately missed the taste of his lips.

“Eager, are we?” she breathed.

“Can you blame me?” Zoro chuckled. “It’s been too fucking long.”

“It has.”

As if she were just a doll, Zoro easily scooped her up into his arms, letting her wrap her legs around his waist.

“There we go. Did you get smaller?”

“No, you idiot,” Cora laughed. “You got taller!”

“Did I?”

“Yeah! I’m wearing taller heels than usual and you’re still bigger than I remembered.”

“That’s good.”

“Is it?”

“You’ll get tired of looking up, so I get to carry you around more.”

Once again, Cora laughed, clinging on to Zoro so she wouldn’t lose her balance and fall. Not that he would ever let that happen. She let herself lean against him, running her fingers through his hair, trying to familiarize herself with every single detail about him again as quickly as possible. New freckles, new scars, the same shapes and colors she knew so well. The same but different. And she couldn’t wait to get to know him all over again.

True Love’s Kiss/Magic Kiss/Healed

Cora stood in front of her closet, going through her clothes. She was looking for some old clothes to improve on, an embroidery project for those long days at sea, for those nights spent out on night watch, whether voluntary or not. Clad in only her underwear, she flicked through the various clothes hangers, looking at one garment, trying on another… Finally, she picked out an old skirt, plain black and uneventful. One of the few items she had actually bought and not sewn herself. Perhaps… Swiftly, she put it on, spinning around once or twice, then walking over to her vanity table to grab a piece of chalk. Carefully, she started sketching patterns and lines onto the fabric.

That was until she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Her gaze got caught on those characteristic lines on her back, senseless and discolored, as if someone had dropped their sewing kit and the needles had gone everywhere. Some were bigger, some were smaller. Some still hurt sometimes.

Suddenly, she heard someone call her name, and there were steps in the room. In a hectic motion, she yanked one of her jackets out of the closet and swung it over her shoulders, covering her back. Then, she noticed who it was: Zoro and Sanji, probably there to have her settle an argument or a bet. Or both. Or being clingy. Maybe all three.

“God,” Cora gasped, “don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry, princess,” Sanji apologized.

“The door was open,” Zoro just shrugged.

“Was it?” Cora sighed, sounding both annoyed and tired.

“Aren’t you supposed to cover your tits when people come in?” Zoro asked, causing Sanji to give him an annoyed stare.

“And since when do I care about covering my chest, huh?” Cora replied. “I’ve got some very pretty bras, why not show them off? Such a shame to be hiding them under shirts all the time.”

“But you’re still hiding your back?”

“… Touché.”

Typical Zoro. He always knew how to hit a nerve, but he had no idea how to do it gently. “Gentle” was more Sanji’s style. True to this, the blonde cook came up to hug Cora within seconds, gently running his fingers through her hair.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he whispered.

“Wounds on the back are a swordsman’s greatest shame,” Cora just mumbled.

“Don’t use my words against me, you got it?” Zoro growled, pulling the jacket off of Cora’s back. “You’re not a swordsman, you’ve told me that over and over. And that rule only applies in a situation where you’re in control. Where it’s fair. You didn’t even have a chance to fight.”

“Look, Cora,” Sanji mumbled, cupping her face with his hands as Zoro ran his fingers along the scars across her back. “How you got those scars doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over. They healed. And we’re not going back there anymore. Never ever, you hear me? They’re never gonna find us, and if they do, we’ll be far away before they can even try to catch us. Alright?”

Cora nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“That’s my girl,” Sanji smiled, giving her a gentle kiss.

“If any of those guys even try to get close to you, I’ll chop off their heads,” Zoro declared.

“I just wish I could’ve gotten out of there sooner,” Cora mumbled.

“You did what you could, and what’s done is done. Let them be assholes all they want, everyone’s gotta die one day.”

Cora hummed quietly, then a smile spread on her face. “Why did you come here anyway? Did you need anything?”

“That waiter claimed he was a better kisser than me,” Zoro grumbled.

“Really?”

“Because I am,” Sanji beamed. “Right, Cora? – It’s about the technique, not just shoving your tongue down someone’s throat.”

“You never seem to mind it when I do it to you,” Zoro chuckled. “And neither does Cora, by the way. Right, babygirl?”

“I, uh… I dunno,” Cora stammered. But then she smirked. “I’d need a direct comparison to know for sure.”

Immediately, there was a mischievous grin on both Zoro and Sanji’s faces.

“As you wish, madam,” Sanji purred.

Just then, Zoro picked Cora up from behind, causing her to let out a surprised shriek. Within few steps, he placed her down on her mattress. Both of the men crawled over her and started covering her in kisses, all the while trying to push each other away, throwing Cora into a giggling fit.

[contractbound]

On Hearing People's Wishes...

Last summer, @wayward-aeon asked me to give my perspective on people praying to the Adep/ti (more specifically the Yak/shas), as well as elaborate on this in-game line:

Whether yours or Li/yue's, I hear all cries for help, all prayers for peace, and all the wishes carried by the lanterns.

Below the cut is my answer to that, taken from informal private messages and edited into more of a personal essay.

August 2023 ; 711 words

—

What I said to Aether while making my promise to come when he called is true — I do hear everyone's wishes and calls for help. As far back in my canon as I can remember, I'd always been sensitive/attuned to the desires and needs of the people of Li/yue. I remember making a silent oath to answer what I could.

Regarding which calls I answer, I mostly pay attention to the wishes that actually fell under my jurisdiction, like providing protection. It was very easy to do that when Li/yue was still young, and the people back then were primarily concerned with survival. They usually didn't ask for pointless things like wealth and status. Really...what am I supposed to do about requests like that?

I suppose Aether could be considered a special exception to an extent. While he doesn't permanently reside in Li/yue, I personally made a promise to him to come when called, and I respond to his wishes even when they have nothing to do with my actual purpose/job. In my noemata, when he'd call my name, I'd hear it come through in my head — like a telepathic connection, but not purely. It also partially feels like I just have unnaturally good ears.

It feels the same with others who pray to the Adep/ti. I'm particularly sensitive to it during Lan/tern Rite. I think if I held someones Xi/ao Lantern in my hands, I could tell you the individual wish attached to it (but I wouldn't tell a soul, because that's bad luck). While I can't personally fulfill every person in Li/yue's every desire (especially because so many of them nowadays are outside of my jurisdiction and skill set), I still hold them close to my heart.

As for what is within my jurisdiction...there have been many occasions out in the wild where someone would scream for help after running into monsters, and I'd come to their rescue. No matter how far away I was.

On the topic of people praying to the Yak/shas in specific, I was aware of it. Spiritual practices dedicated to us such as prayer and leaving offerings were much more widespread in ancient times. We were much more revered and known back then because our abilities were a lot more needed (and of course, because we were much more numerous). In the "current-day" Tey/vat, barely anyone prays to the Yak/shas at all, and many others don't even know about us. However, that's a tangent for another time.

My connection to Aether and to the people of Li/yue that allows me to hear their wishes is of unknown origin at this point in time. I wonder if there was something innate in me that allowed me to feel this way, or if it was purely a skill picked up and developed over time after establishing my contract with Mo/rax. My current hunch is that it's a mix of both.

Before the contract, I'd have little to no reason to listen to people's desires, but I also feel like its just part of my nature to be attuned to others, even if I behave otherwise. This impression comes from memories I have of when I was still young. Before I entered any god's servitude, and I was just left to my own devices, I would spend my days entering and exploring people's dreams. Someone's dreams, especially on Tey/vat, are their memories, their love, their essence, their desire.

At that time in my life, my most prominent trait other than naive was curious. I wanted to understand people, and entering their dreams was like looking into their souls. It was a very effective way for me to sate this curiosity. Over the centuries, I got more and more intimately familiar with dreams and their nature. Even as I was devouring them, my understanding grew.

I wouldn't be surprised if being so tuned in to the desires of the people I swore to protect was largely a result of my "upbringing", for lack of a better term. I know firsthand how potent yet fragile dreams are, and that knowledge motivates me to protect them.

...If I could give back what I've stolen, and make a few come true, that would be all the better.