#a really distinct and well realized world

[cerealforkart]

I started replaying my favourite fire emblems the other day! Local queer boy gets tangled in one war after another that he has no real place in just trying to make one right decision at a time

[bramblepatch]

The thing about Omelas is, you know, they really want you to think there's only one kid in a hole.

That's how it's always phrased. The Kid in the Omelas Hole. The forsaken child, if you're feeling fancy. Sometimes if they're feeling really dogmatic, they almost seem to want to tell you there's only ever been one kid, even though that's completely stupid if you think about it. Kids grow up in Omelas. Most of them grow up perfectly happy and healthy, at least until they're old enough to be told about the kid in the hole and then they grow up mostly happy and healthy with a distinct strain of repression. Thinking logically, the kid in the hole must also grow up, or perhaps they don't, but they don't in the way that so many kids in other parts of the world fail to grow up.

And once you've worked that out, once you've realized that every so often they have to find another kid and put them in the hole, well, it's easy to stop there. To feel jaded and sad and maybe angry enough to walk away.

The walking away is important, for several reasons but also this one: walking away means you don't hang around Omelas and compare notes.

Because Omelas can live with there being One Child in One Hole that suffers so that everyone else can prosper. It's a shared shame that you're not supposed to talk about. If you can't live with it, you're suppose to leave. You're not supposed to go to your friends and say, look, I went back to the warehouse in the dock district and saw the kid in the hole again and I'm really struggling with it, because then your friends might look at you like you grew a second head and say, what warehouse.

And then you might learn that they have always known that the happiness and prosperity of Omelas depends on a kid locked away under a law firm uptown. And maybe you ask a few more people and some of them know about the same kids as the ones you and your friend were confronted with, but some of them might know about other kids entirely. And then, perhaps, it starts to become clear that Omelas is built entirely on holes occupied by children and if that's the case, walking away hardly seems like proportional reaction, does it?

If there are many kids in many holes maybe the question of how a kid in a hole is supposed to ensure the prosperity of the city bears some examining. Maybe you start to wonder why you've never seen a kid who isn't prospering except for in a hole. Maybe you wonder if there's other holes and maybe you remember that other places that aren't Omelas have things like attempted prison reform and social services and other such things that you've always been told Omelas doesn't need.

Or maybe you and your friends know about the same kid in the same hole. Maybe there's only one kid in one hole, after all. Maybe it's just not something that's pleasant to talk about, so no one ever does, and there's nothing more suspicious going on than a city where people don't know how to talk about hard subjects.

But you know, maybe. It's weird that they don't want you to talk about it, is all I'm saying. It's weird.

[mariasont]

hi 🫶🏻 i was thinking maybe you could write spencer x reader inspired by taylor's I look in people's windows? for the plot it could be something like they were really close friends and reader was obviously in love with him but then he met meave and distanced himself from her, or maybe that he blames the reader for meave's death and is avoiding her, idk, whichever you prefer!!

i love your works, you're so good at writing!!

When the Swallows Come Again - S.R

a/n: hi my lovely you just know me tooooooo well. a swiftie plot line you ask? i am at your service

no but fr thank u so so sooo much for requesting i love YOU! 🫶🏼

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x gn!reader (im pretty sure pls correct me if i added any use of pronouns)

summary: spencer blames you for maeves death…or so you thought

warnings: angst! (happy endings, yes ik im feeling gracious), talk of death, blood, guns, usual criminal minds stuff

wc: 2.5k

The asphalt beneath your boots felt gritty, the sound muffled by the thick blanket of snow. With one hand, you tried to guard your face from the snowflakes that seemed determined to kiss your skin. They might seem pretty from inside, but out here, they were just another reminder of your inadequate clothing against the biting cold.

The first rays of the sun began to stretch across the concrete, painting long shadows in its wake. Although you could have found your way in the pitch black if needed. Most places were still closed, but you knew that a coffee shop you used to love would be open. It wasn't your top choice, mainly because of the fact that you might bump into--

Him.

You knew it was him before you even saw his face, the hairs on your arm standing at attention as you stopped dead in front of the window.

It was Spencer, unmistakable even from a distance, his distinctive curls made into a celestial crown by the cafe's soft light. Your heart stumbled, plummeting down to your shoelaces. A thousand emotions crashed around you, a vortex happening to quick to untangle. These were feeling you had buried down, far deeper than six feet, hoping they'd never resurface. But that, you realized, was just wishful thinking.

You watched from behind the glass, feeling like a stranger to the world that Spencer now inhabited--a world where you once had a seat at his table. Now, you were the outsider, the unwanted observer. The sound of his laughter, which once was a comforting sound, now seeped through the door's crack, a mocking reminder of a severed tie. Your friendship was one that had bloomed like the first flowers of spring.

But flowers wither, and seasons change.

With Spencer out of your life, a subtle death crept over you, eroding you piece by piece. It was a death characterized by the loud allegations, the quiet of words left unsaid, and a friendship that had crumbled because he blamed you for Maeve's death.

Not just blamed, he hated you.

He hated you because you had tried to save Maeve, but you just weren't quick enough, because you couldn't beat the onset of gunfire, because you went in instead of him. You knew the cost: if he went in, he wouldn't have come back out. You didn't regret that choice. He's alive and breathing, and that's worth any cost--even if it means he never spoke to you again.

But there he stood, living and breathing--just as you intended, and suddenly your body seemed to malfunction. Your feet might as well have been part of the pavement, the snowflakes assaulting your face just as Maeve's blood did that day. Your heart threatened to burst, racing with a ferocity that set your veins on fire. You were scorching alive, and it was 17 degrees. 

In the aftermath, Spencer had taken himself off the grid, locked himself in his apartment, and you didn't take it to heart because his withdrawal was all- encompassing. He was avoiding everyone. But then he came back, and it was as if you alone were invisible to him. You tried, with every fiber of your being, to bridge to gap, for him to let you be his best friend again, but your attempts were met with biting remarks and thinly veiled jabs.

It was exhausting. But he was grieving so you felt like he deserved a pass. He had been through so much, more than anyone on the team. Surely, if anyone deserved a pass, it was him. However, even the most generous pass has an expiration date, and six months of disregard made it challenging to keep validating the same worn-out ticket.

So, you submitted your transfer papers to the narcotics unit. You wanted to say a proper goodbye, but you weren't sure he'd care. So, you didn't. You waited until the office was empty, then disappeared without a trace. 

But it didn't hardly matter that you weren't physically around him because you found yourself searching for signs of him in everything you did. 

When you pulled on your socks, memories of his mismatching habit surfaced, and the way he'd cheekily taunt you for your staunch preference for matching white ones. When you went to the grocery store, you'd unintentionally wander to the aisle with the dark chocolate almonds, his favorite.

Every time a swallow flitted across your path, you were reminded of him. "Swallows return to the same place every year, but not the same partner," he had once explained.

The thought always stuck to you, like gum on the sole of your shoe, because now it was a poignant parallel to your own stupid, fractured bond. Connections were never meant to endure. You knew that now.

It was too late to reverse course when he spun around, catching you red-handed. Your mouth flapped open, a fish out of water, as you willed your feet to moved forward. The need for coffee paled in the comparison to the need to leave. But his reflexes outmatched yours, and the door swung open before you could make an escape.

He said nothing, just stared, and you came to a near-instant stop, narrowly avoiding a collision. The frosty air of your breath fogged the space between you, briefly distorting your view of him, softening his edges into the Spencer you once knew.

Now that he was within arm's reach, you could discern the finer aspects of his face. He looked good, tired, but good. He always looked good, but time had sculpted his features into something more profound. His hair had grown out, curling at the ends, and a stubble now sketched the contours of his face. 

"Hey."

Had you not been so captivated by the shape of his mouth, the faint sound would have been swallowed by the buzzing in your ears.

"Hey," you whispered, but even that was too much for your shaky voice, breaking mid-greeting and leaving you exposed before him. "I'm sorry, I had no idea you'd be here. Um, I should probably just--"

You maneuvered around him, pushing down the vomit of words rising in your throat, consciously fighting the impulse to catalog every line of his face, cognizant of the fact that it might just be the last time you'd see him.

His hand clasped your wrist, and you were suddenly you were the newest member of the BAU again, rubbing elbows with the boy genius, telling him all your secrets with the exception of one. How madly in love you were with him. Were? Are? Past tense? Present tense? You tried not to think about it.

You were frozen in time—not solely from the physical restraint but from the searing sensation of his touch, a feeling you hadn't known in ages, as if igniting your skin through your sleeve.

"Wait, please," he pleaded, the desperation is his voice anchoring you to the spot. You turned back to face him, finding your faces nearly touching. You shifted, intending to create space, but his grip on your arm didn't drop, so you didn't move. "How have you been?"

The question threw you off guard, and it filled your stomach with an irrepressible swarm of butterflies, a feeling so alive against the biting cold that stung at your nose.

Your fingertips were going numb.

"I'm okay, you?" A complete lie.

You racked your brain for the last time you felt okay. Perhaps it was before Spencer had started talking with Maeve. You didn't even know about it at first, that might have been the worst part. He was your best friend, and he had omitted such a significant detail of his life from you.

He just started to distance himself, forging a gap between the two of you that seemed to rival the expanse of the Grand Canyon. Perhaps it was an overstatement, but as the events unfolded, the comparison felt justified. 

The change began imperceptibly, almost cruelly gradual. You would have preferred a quick yank of the Band-Aid, but it was a prolonged, painful peeling. The first sign was him not jumping at the chance to be partnered on cases like he usually did. Then, it progressed to him choosing seats away from you on the jet, and finally, it escalated to him leaving the room all together when you were in it.

It was an achy feeling, an all-consuming soreness that infiltrated every inch of your being. You didn't understand, didn't know what you did wrong. It wasn't long after this you found out about Maeve.

And then, as if fate had dealt its cruelest hand, she died, and suddenly it was your fault. You became the villain in his eyes, condemned for your hesitance, and because you refused to let him die. Maybe it could be seen as selfish, but without him, you would be nothing.

Yet here you were living without him all the same.

His inspection was more thorough than you were ready for. It stirred an urge within you to shrink away, to sprint into the anonymity of the dark streets, but your feet remained rooted to the spot.

"I've been better," he admitted, eyes shining with something you couldn't quite place.

"Oh," you begam, the syllable suspended in the frigid air, but before your thoughts could coalesce into words, Spencer cut through the silence.

"Why did you leave?"

Your brows pinched together, your mouth agape as a singular heartbeat was lost--and then several more. "You can't be serious."

He looked confused. "What? No, Hotch never really told us your reasoning."

The taste of a bitter laugh lingered at the edge of your lips. "Spencer, we don't need to do this whole act, okay? We don't have to pretend that I left for any reason other than you."

"Because of me?" His hands glided upward, pausing on your shoulder, and you loathed the part of you that wanted to lean into him. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you kidding?" The words tumbled out, blinking away the tears of frustration that threatened to spill. "Spencer, I'm not stupid. I know you hate me. I know you blame me for what happened with Maeve. And I get it, you were grieving, and you had every right to be mad, and I just couldn't work there anymore."

"That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard," he cut in, his tone was sharp, yet somehow not unkind. "God, I don't hate you. I could never hate you."

"How can you stand there and say that?" you countered, your voice hurt and incredulous as you took a step away, the cold seeping into your bones and setting your teeth on edge. "You treated me like I was nothing, Spencer."

"Here," Spencer said, handing you his jacket. "You should know, prolonged exposure to cold weather can actually weaken your immune system."

"Oh," you said, slightly startled, feeling the warmth take hold in your cheeks. You rubbed your nose before pulling the jacket over your shoulders. It smelled just like him.

"I don't hate you, you know that, right?" Spencer's voice was soft, like he was whispering even though you were the only two on the street. "I'm sorry if I made you feel insignificant. You're far from it. You could never be nothing. But I was mad, and I let that get the better of me."

"But I tried, Spencer," you choked out, voice wavering, emotion thick in your throat. "I tried to save her. Maybe if I had more training, more experience... I know you wish I had let you be there instead, but I couldn't risk it, not with what I knew. And now our friendship is ruined and I--,"

"Hey, whoa, slow down," Spencer interjected, cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears you hadn't even noticed. "You think I blame you? Oh, my god, no, sweetheart. I was angry, yes, but it was because you were willing to step in front of a gun."

"You don't blame me?"

"Of course I don't," he breathed out as if he couldn't believe this is what you thought. "I'm so sorry for giving you that impression. It was never my intention."

Your emotions bubbled over into a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. "I really missed you."

Spencer's heart seemed to shatter than mend in an instant as he drew you against him. "Can I kiss you?"

Giggles spilled out through chattering teeth, punctuating the air as a wide smile graced your lips. "You want to kiss me?" 

"I want to kiss you."

The idea almost seemed to sweet to be true.

"Okay."

He kissed you, and with each snowflake that settled into your hair, Spencer drew you in closer. In a way that you had only dreamed of. The biting cold was there, but it paled in comparison to the blaze that was now ignited through your body. 

It was perfect, everything you had imagined and more--real, warm, and grounding. 

He pulled away slowly, blinking the same speed, snowflakes dusting his lashes like delicate frost.

“I know I’ve been… difficult,” he said, his voice rough, his breath wanting your frozen cheek at the same time.

You pressed a hand to his chest. “Spencer, you don’t have to explain.”

A moment passed, as if he were thinking about your offer, then his gaze found yours, piercing and profound, as if the solid ground you stood on was suddenly fragile.

“But I need to,” he said, the raw need in his voice pulling your straight back into the orbit of his words. “I was angry, yes, you almost got yourself killed. But I pushed you away because it was far easier than facing the fear that I might lose you too.”

The beats of your heart echoed loudly—thump, thump—in its bony cage as your fingers curled tightly into his shirt.

“Every time I looked at you, I saw what I could have lost, and that fucking terrified me.”

Spencer cussed, this wasn’t unusual, but the intensity behind it made you frown. His words, so honest, seemed pull you in, invading his personal space in an effort to get rid of yours.

“You’re not going to lose me.”

The sun was shining now, casting golden rays over the snow and Spencer’s face, framing him just as he was in your mind.

“Then let’s not waste anymore time.”

You love him. Present.

For a second you thought Spencer might be wrong because maybe, just maybe, swallows could return to the same place, and the same partner after all.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf

[gpcwsl]

Warnings: kissing, fake dating, very long.)

Katie McCabe x Reader:

Title: New Flame

- It’s a gray Thursday afternoon, and the café is unusually quiet. Your favorite table by the window is free, so you settle in, grateful for the peaceful atmosphere. A steaming cup of tea sits beside your open notebook as you jot down thoughts about the book you’re reading, the bustle of the world outside fading into the background.

You’ve always loved this place—the way the soft hum of conversation blends with the hiss of the espresso machine, the faint scent of cinnamon that lingers in the air. It’s your sanctuary, the one place where you can exist undisturbed.

That’s why you barely glance up when the door swings open, and a sharp gust of wind accompanies a new customer inside. But then you hear her.

“Christ, it’s freezing out there. Do you not believe in heating, or what?”

The voice is loud, distinct, and unmistakably Irish. You glance up, and your heart stutters for a beat.

Katie McCabe.

Even if you weren’t a football fan—and you’re not, really—you’d recognize her anywhere. Her image is everywhere: Arsenal star, Ireland’s national treasure, and a lightning rod for attention both on and off the pitch. With her dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail and her piercing green eyes scanning the room, she commands attention effortlessly.

You quickly look back down at your notebook, praying she won’t notice you.

Fate, of course, has other plans.

“Hey, you.”

The words are casual but direct, cutting through the quiet hum of the café. You don’t realize she’s speaking to you until her shadow falls over your table.

You glance up, bewildered. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” Katie grins, and it’s the kind of grin that suggests she’s up to something. “Mind if I sit?”

Without waiting for an answer, she pulls out the chair across from you and drops into it, looking entirely at ease.

You blink at her, thoroughly confused. “Um… can I help you?”

“Actually, yeah.” She leans forward, propping her elbows on the table. “I’ve got a bit of a situation, and I think you might be able to help me out.”

You stare at her, still trying to process the fact that Katie McCabe, of all people, is sitting at your table, acting like you’re old friends. “I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

She tilts her head, studying you with an intensity that makes you squirm. “Nah, I don’t think so. You’re perfect.”

“For what?”

Katie sits back, crossing her arms and smirking like she’s about to deliver the punchline of a joke. “To be my girlfriend.”

- For a long moment, all you can do is stare at her. “I’m sorry… what?”

“My girlfriend,” she repeats, as if this is the most logical thing in the world. “Well, fake girlfriend. Just for a bit.”

You laugh, certain you’ve misheard her. “Okay, seriously—what is this about? Did someone put you up to this?”

Katie sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I know it sounds mad, but hear me out. There’s this charity gala next weekend, and my ex is going to be there. With her new girlfriend. Who just so happens to play for Chelsea.”

“And…?” you prompt, still thoroughly confused.

“And I can’t show up alone,” Katie says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Do you have any idea how smug they’ll be? No way I’m letting them get one over on me.”

You shake your head, still struggling to wrap your mind around what’s happening. “So your solution is to drag a random stranger into this?”

“Not random,” Katie says, her grin returning. “I’ve seen you in here before. You seem… normal. Quiet. Not the type to run to the tabloids.”

“That’s your criteria? Normal and quiet?”

She shrugs. “Also, you’re cute. That helps.”

Your face heats at the casual compliment, but you refuse to let her distract you. “Katie, I don’t even know you.”

“And I don’t know you,” she counters. “That’s the beauty of it. No one will suspect a thing.”

You stare at her, incredulous. “This is insane.”

“Probably,” she admits. “But I’m desperate. Come on, it’s just one night. I’ll pay you if you want. Whatever it takes.”

Her green eyes are locked on yours, and for a moment, you see a flicker of vulnerability beneath her confident exterior. She really does seem desperate.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “This is ridiculous. Why me?”

“Because I’m out of options,” Katie says simply. “And you… you seem like someone I can trust.”

The weight of her words surprises you. Against your better judgment, you find yourself considering her proposal.

“One night?” you ask cautiously.

Katie nods. “One night. That’s it. And I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”

You hesitate, every instinct telling you to say no. But there’s something about the way she’s looking at you—something earnest and almost endearing—that makes you pause.

“Fine,” you say finally. “But we need rules.”

Katie grins, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied expression. “Rules. Got it. Lay ’em on me.”

Katie’s grin widens as if she’s just scored the winning goal in a cup final. You, on the other hand, feel the weight of your decision settle in—a strange mix of regret and curiosity.

You take a steadying breath and look her in the eye. “First of all, this isn’t a free-for-all. There have to be rules.”

“Fair enough,” Katie says, leaning forward, her chin resting on her hand. “Go on, then. What are the rules?”

You tap your pen against your notebook, thinking. “Rule one: no surprises. If we’re going to do this, I need to know everything beforehand—where we’re going, who’ll be there, what we’re supposed to do. No springing things on me last minute.”

Katie raises an eyebrow but nods. “Fine. No surprises. What else?”

“Rule two: no physical affection unless absolutely necessary.”

Her grin turns mischievous. “Define ‘necessary.’”

You glare at her. “You know what I mean. No kissing, no hand-holding, nothing unless it’s to keep up the act.”

Katie laughs, clearly amused by your flustered tone. “Alright, alright. No unnecessary touching. Got it. Anything else?”

“Rule three…” You pause, unsure how to phrase it. “We keep it professional. No personal stuff. This is a one-time thing, and I don’t want it complicating my life.”

For a moment, Katie’s expression softens. She studies you with a curious tilt of her head, as though trying to figure out what kind of person would say yes to this ridiculous plan. Then she nods.

“Deal,” she says. “Three rules. No surprises, no touching, no personal stuff. Easy.”

You fold your arms. “Good. Now it’s your turn to tell me why this is so important. I need to know what I’m walking into.”

Katie sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Alright, here’s the short version. The gala is a big deal in the football world—sponsors, press, all that. My ex, Ruesha, will be there with her new girlfriend, Louise. Louise and I… let’s just say we don’t get along.”

Your eyebrows lift. “So this is about showing up your ex and her new partner?”

“Not exactly,” Katie says, shifting in her seat. “It’s about showing that I’m fine. That I’ve moved on. That I’m not the same hotheaded, impulsive idiot Charlotte broke up with.”

There’s something raw in her voice, a vulnerability she tries to mask with her usual bravado. It’s the first time you’ve seen a crack in her confident façade.

“Alright,” you say softly. “I get it. But if I’m doing this, you need to promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“No games. No trying to use me to make anyone jealous or prove a point. If we’re doing this, it’s strictly for appearances.”

Katie meets your gaze, and for a moment, the playful spark in her eyes fades. She nods, her tone serious. “I promise.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Okay. So… what happens now?”

Katie’s grin returns, this time with a hint of relief. “Now? We prep. I’ll text you the details, and we’ll work out a plan. Don’t worry—I’ll make this as painless as possible.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” you mutter.

Katie laughs as she stands, tossing a few bills onto the table. “Thanks for this. You’re saving my ass, you know.”

Before you can respond, she’s out the door, leaving you with a sinking feeling that your quiet life is about to get a lot more complicated.

- Over the next few days, Katie is true to her word-mostly. She texts you the details of the gala: date, time, dress code, and a brief rundown of the attendees. What she doesn’t do, however, is give you much space to breathe.

Her texts are relentless, filled with questions about your life (“What do you do for fun? Need to make our story believable”), comments on your style (“Do you even own anything fancy?”), and more than a few unsolicited jokes.

Katie: Are you sure you’re not a Chelsea fan in disguise?

You: I don’t even watch football.

Katie: Good. Can’t trust a Chelsea fan.

By the time the day of the gala arrives, you’ve exchanged so many messages with her that you feel like you know her—or at least the larger-than-life version she projects.

That’s how you find yourself standing outside the boutique Katie insisted on meeting you at, clutching your coat and wondering how on earth you got here.

The door swings open, and Katie steps out, her sharp features lighting up when she spots you.

“There you are,” she says, striding toward you. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

“Work?” you echo, following her inside.

She smirks. “You didn’t think I’d let you show up in jeans and a hoodie, did you?”

Inside, the boutique is all sleek lines and shimmering fabrics, a world away from your usual haunts. Katie gestures to a rack of gowns with a dramatic flourish.

“Pick something,” she says. “And don’t worry—I’m paying.”

You hesitate, glancing at the price tags. “Katie, this is too much—”

“Trust me, it’s not,” she interrupts. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

Her confidence is infectious, and despite your protests, you let her help you choose an outfit. It’s strange, seeing this side of her—playful, encouraging, almost charming.

By the time you’re dressed and ready, you catch Katie staring at you in the mirror.

“What?” you ask, self-conscious.

She grins, her voice softer than usual. “You look perfect.”

- The car ride to the gala is quieter than you expected. Katie sits beside you, fidgeting with the cuffs of her tailored suit, her usual bravado noticeably muted. You glance at her, trying to decide if this is the same Katie McCabe who confidently strolled into your life days ago and turned it upside down.

“You alright?” you ask, breaking the silence.

She looks at you, startled, before forcing a smirk. “Me? Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re fidgeting,” you point out.

Katie immediately stills, shoving her hands into her lap. “I’m not fidgeting. Just… warming up, you know? Big game mentality.”

You snort. “This isn’t a game.”

“Isn’t it, though?” she says, her grin returning. “It’s all about strategy. Confidence. Timing. Same rules apply.”

You shake your head, but her words stick with you. As the car pulls up to the venue—a sprawling estate lit up like something out of a fairy tale—you suddenly feel the weight of what you’ve agreed to.

The driver opens the door, and Katie steps out first, extending a hand to you. For a moment, you hesitate. Then you take it, her grip steadying you as you step onto the red carpet.

“Ready?” she murmurs, her voice low enough that only you can hear.

“No,” you admit, your heart racing as cameras flash in the distance.

Katie squeezes your hand, her smirk softening into something more reassuring. “Don’t worry. Just stick with me.”

The ballroom is even more intimidating than the exterior. Chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over a sea of impeccably dressed guests, their laughter and conversation blending into a hum of sophistication. Katie leads you through the crowd with the ease of someone who belongs, her hand resting lightly on the small of your back.

You catch a few people staring—some curious, others outright surprised. It doesn’t take long for someone to approach.

“Katie!”

A tall woman in a sleek black dress strides over, her smile polished and sharp. You don’t need to be told who she is; the tension in Katie’s shoulders gives it away.

“Ruesha,” Katie says, her tone neutral but her smile strained.

The woman’s gaze flicks to you, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “And who’s this?”

Before you can respond, Katie slips an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “This is my girlfriend,” she says smoothly. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while now. Isn’t that right, love?”

The word catches you off guard, but you recover quickly, nodding. “That’s right.”

Ruesha’s smile doesn’t falter, but there’s a flicker of something—annoyance, maybe?—in her eyes. “How… lovely. I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

Katie shrugs, her expression deceptively casual. “I like to keep my private life private these days.”

Before Rushea can respond, another voice cuts in.

“Ruesha aren’t you going to introduce us?”

You turn to see a strikingly beautiful woman join the group. She’s tall and athletic, her confident demeanor radiating the same energy as Katie’s—but colder, more calculating. Louise, you realize.

“Louise, this is Katie and…” Ruesha hesitates, clearly having forgotten your name.

“Y/N,” Katie supplies smoothly, her arm tightening around you.

“Y/N,” Ruesha repeats, her tone almost apologetic. “This is Louise.”

Louise extends a hand, her smile as sharp as the rest of her. “Pleasure to meet you.”

You shake her hand, acutely aware of the tension crackling between her and Katie. “Likewise.”

“So,” Louise says, turning to Katie. “Didn’t think I’d see you here. You always hated these events.”

Katie’s smile doesn’t waver. “Things change.”

The conversation feels like a battlefield, every word carefully chosen and loaded with subtext. You do your best to play along, nodding and smiling in the right places, but it’s clear that Katie is the one holding the line.

Finally, Ruesha and Louise excuse themselves, leaving you and Katie alone again.

“Well,” you say, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “That was… intense.”

Katie laughs, but it’s more bitter than amused. “Welcome to my world.”

- The rest of the evening passes in a blur of introductions and polite conversation. Katie is charming and confident, slipping effortlessly into her role as the doting girlfriend. You find yourself admiring how natural she makes it seem—like this really is her world, and you’re just lucky to be part of it.

But as the night wears on, you notice the cracks. The way her smile falters when she thinks no one is looking. The way her hand grips her glass a little too tightly whenever Charlotte or Louise is nearby.

It’s not until much later, when the crowd begins to thin and the band starts playing slower songs, that Katie finally lets her guard down.

“Come on,” she says, tugging you toward the dance floor.

You hesitate. “Katie, I don’t dance—”

“Neither do I,” she says, cutting you off. “But we’ve got appearances to keep up, remember?”

Before you can argue, she pulls you into her arms, her hands settling lightly on your waist. You place your hands on her shoulders, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat as she pulls you closer.

The music is soft and slow, the kind of song that leaves no room for distance. You glance up at her, surprised to find her looking back at you with an expression you can’t quite read.

“You’re good at this,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Katie chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Fake it till you make it, right?”

You tilt your head, studying her. “Is that what you’re doing? Faking it?”

For a moment, she doesn’t answer. Then she looks away, her jaw tightening. “What else is there?”

Her words catch you off guard, the vulnerability in them cutting through the practiced confidence she wears like armor. Before you can respond, she shakes her head and forces a smile.

“Forget it,” she says. “Let’s just get through tonight.”

But as the song ends and the crowd applauds, you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to Katie McCabe than meets the eye—and that maybe, just maybe, this fake relationship isn’t as simple as you thought.

- The car ride back is a stark contrast to the ride there. Katie is quiet, staring out the window with her hands clasped in her lap. You sit beside her, the weight of the evening pressing down on you like a heavy coat.

It’s not until you’re halfway back to your apartment that she finally speaks.

“Thanks for tonight,” she says, her voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

You glance at her, surprised. “You’re welcome.”

Katie doesn’t elaborate, and the silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken words and questions you’re too afraid to ask.

When the car pulls up to your building, she steps out first, holding the door for you. You hesitate on the sidewalk, unsure what to say.

“So… I guess that’s it?” you ask, your voice uncertain.

Katie looks at you, her expression unreadable. For a moment, you think she’s going to say something important. Then she flashes you one of her signature grins, the kind that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yeah. That’s it.”

You nod, feeling a strange pang of disappointment as you turn to go.

“Y/N.”

Her voice stops you in your tracks. You turn back to see her standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of her coat.

“If you ever need a favor… or just want to grab a coffee or something… you know where to find me.”

You blink at her, surprised. “Are you asking to be friends?”

Katie laughs, the sound lighter this time. “Maybe. Is that so bad?”

You smile despite yourself. “No, it’s not bad. I’ll think about it.”

She grins. “Fair enough. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Katie.”

You don’t expect to hear from Katie again, but a few days later, your phone buzzes with a text.

Katie: How’s the quiet life? Miss me yet?

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling.

You: Hardly. I’m enjoying the peace, thanks.

Katie: Liar. Meet me at the café later. My treat.

Against your better judgment, you agree.

When you walk into the café, Katie is already there, leaning back in her chair with a cup of coffee in hand. She looks up when you approach, her grin widening.

“Hey, stranger.”

“Hey,” you say, sliding into the seat across from her. “What’s this about?”

She shrugs. “Just wanted to check in. Make sure you’re not scarred for life after the gala.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I survived. Barely.”

Katie smirks. “You did great, by the way. Couldn’t have pulled it off without you.”

“Glad I could help,” you say, sipping your tea. “But seriously, why are you here? I thought this was a one-time thing.”

Katie hesitates, her grin faltering. “I don’t know. Guess I just… liked hanging out with you.”

Her admission catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond.

“Well,” you say finally, “I liked hanging out with you too. Even if you did drag me into your ridiculous plan.”

Katie laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Yeah, sorry about that. But admit it—it wasn’t all bad.”

You smile. “No, it wasn’t.”

For the next hour, the two of you talk like old friends, the conversation flowing easily despite your differences. You’re surprised by how comfortable you feel around her, how quickly the walls you’ve built start to crumble.

When you finally leave the café, you realize something strange: you’re actually looking forward to seeing her again.

- Over the next few weeks, your life begins to shift in ways you never expected. Katie texts you almost daily, her messages ranging from sarcastic quips to genuine questions about your day. She invites you to watch her matches, introduces you to her teammates, and even convinces you to kick a ball around with her at the park one evening.

At first, you tell yourself it’s just friendship. But as the days turn into weeks, you can’t ignore the growing tension between you—the way her smile lingers a little too long, the way your heart skips a beat whenever she leans in close.

You remind yourself of the rules you set, the lines you swore you wouldn’t cross. But Katie McCabe has a way of breaking down barriers, and no matter how hard you try to resist, you find yourself drawn to her.

One evening, after a particularly close Arsenal match, she shows up at your door, a six-pack of beer in hand.

“Thought you might want to celebrate,” she says, her grin mischievous.

“You won,” you point out, stepping aside to let her in.

“Exactly,” she says, plopping down on your couch like she’s been there a hundred times before.

As the night wears on, the conversation grows deeper, the playful banter giving way to something more serious.

“You’re different, you know,” Katie says suddenly, her gaze fixed on you.

You blink at her, surprised. “Different how?”

She shrugs, her expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Just… different. In a good way.”

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you can’t find the words to respond.

“Katie…” you start, but she cuts you off, her grin returning.

“Don’t worry,” she says, raising her beer in a mock toast. “I’m not about to confess my undying love or anything. Just… wanted you to know.”

You laugh, but her words stick with you long after she leaves.

- It happens on a quiet night, one of those evenings where neither of you plans anything but somehow end up together anyway. Katie shows up unannounced—again—this time with a pizza and a bottle of wine.

“Figured you wouldn’t say no to free food,” she says with her trademark grin, already letting herself in.

You roll your eyes but don’t stop her. “Do you ever ask before barging into people’s lives?”

“Not when I know the answer’s yes,” she quips, plopping onto your couch and propping her feet up on the coffee table.

You sit beside her, the familiar routine settling in as you eat, drink, and talk. The conversation flows effortlessly, jumping from football to books to the absurdity of life.

Somewhere between the second slice of pizza and the third glass of wine, the mood shifts. The laughter fades into a comfortable silence, and you realize just how close you’re sitting—your legs brushing, your shoulders almost touching.

Katie turns to you, her expression softer than usual. “You know,” she says, her voice low, “this is nice.”

“What is?” you ask, your pulse quickening.

“This.” She gestures vaguely between the two of you. “Hanging out. Not pretending, not putting on a show. Just… being.”

You swallow hard, her words stirring something deep inside you. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “It is.”

For a moment, neither of you moves. The air feels charged, the space between you shrinking with every passing second. Then, without thinking, you speak.

“Katie, why did you really ask me to do this? The gala, the fake dating—why me?”

She hesitates, her eyes searching yours. “Because you’re different,” she says finally. “You’re honest. You don’t care about the football, or the fame, or any of the other crap people usually care about. You see me. Just me.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, and before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning in.

So is she.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as though both of you are afraid to break the spell. Then Katie’s hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and the world tilts on its axis.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathing hard, her forehead resting against yours.

“Wow,” she murmurs, her lips quirking into a small, stunned smile.

“Yeah,” you whisper, your mind racing.

Katie pulls back slightly, her expression turning serious. “Are you okay?”

You nod, your fingers still clutching the front of her shirt. “I think so. Are you?”

She chuckles, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Better than okay.”

The warmth in her gaze sends your heart into overdrive, but reality crashes down a moment later.

“Katie,” you say hesitantly, “this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Her smile falters, but she doesn’t let go. “I know. But…” She pauses, her voice dropping to a whisper. “What if it’s supposed to?”

- After that night, everything changes.

Katie doesn’t pull away. If anything, she becomes even more present in your life—texting you good morning, showing up at your place unannounced, dragging you out to watch sunsets or explore the city.

You try to resist, to remind yourself that this was never meant to be real. But the lines have blurred so completely that you don’t know where the act ends and the truth begins.

And the truth is, you’re falling for her.

It’s in the little things—how she remembers your favorite coffee order, how she always makes you laugh when you’re having a bad day, how she looks at you like you’re the only person in the room.

But it’s also in the bigger moments. Like the time she invites you to a team dinner and introduces you to her teammates as “my person.” Or the night she tells you about her childhood, her struggles, her fears—the parts of herself she keeps hidden from the world.

Every day, you fall a little harder. And every day, you wonder how long this can last before it all comes crashing down.

- It happens during another gala, this time for a charity event. Katie insists on bringing you again, despite your protests.

“You’re my lucky charm,” she says with a grin, her hand warm against yours.

The evening is perfect—until you see Charlotte and Louise across the room.

Katie stiffens beside you, her smile tightening. “Great,” she mutters. “Here we go again.”

You squeeze her hand. “Ignore them. You don’t need to prove anything to her—or anyone else.”

She looks at you, her eyes softening. “Thanks, love.”

The word sends a jolt through you, and you realize with startling clarity that you want her to mean it.

As the night goes on, you find yourself watching her, captivated by the way she moves through the crowd with effortless charm. You can’t help but wonder if she feels the same way—if this has become real for her too.

When the event ends and you’re back in the car, Katie turns to you, her expression uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“Y/N,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need to know… is this still just pretend for you?”

Your breath catches, her question hanging in the air like a challenge.

“No,” you admit, your voice trembling. “It hasn’t been for a while.”

Relief floods her features, and she reaches for your hand, her fingers threading through yours.

“Good,” she says softly. “Because it’s not pretend for me either.”

- The shift in your relationship is subtle at first, like the first hints of spring after a long winter. Katie still texts you incessantly, still shows up at your door unannounced, but now there’s a softness to her—a quiet vulnerability that wasn’t there before.

You’re hesitant to define what’s happening between you, afraid that putting a label on it will ruin the fragile thing you’ve built. But Katie seems unbothered by the ambiguity.

One evening, as you’re sprawled out on your couch, her head resting in your lap while some random movie plays in the background, she looks up at you and says, “You overthink too much, you know that?”

You pause mid-stroke, your fingers tangled in her hair. “I do not.”

Katie raises an eyebrow, her smirk playful. “You do. I can practically see the gears turning.”

You sigh, your hand dropping to your side. “Can you blame me? This… whatever this is—it’s complicated.”

Katie sits up, her expression serious now. “It doesn’t have to be.”

You stare at her, your heart pounding. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I like you, Y/N. More than like you. And I think you feel the same way. So why are we making it harder than it needs to be?”

Her words hit you like a freight train, the raw honesty in her gaze leaving you breathless.

“I…” You hesitate, the weight of your emotions threatening to crush you. “I do feel the same way. But what if this doesn’t work out? What if—”

Katie cuts you off with a kiss, her hands framing your face as she pulls you in. It’s not the first time you’ve kissed, but there’s something different about this one—something that feels permanent, like a promise.

When she pulls away, her forehead rests against yours, her breath warm against your skin. “Stop overthinking,” she murmurs. “Just be with me.”

And for the first time, you let yourself believe that it might be that simple.

- The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Katie is unapologetically affectionate, holding your hand in public, kissing your cheek when she thinks no one is looking, and calling you “love” in a way that makes your heart skip a beat every time.

Her teammates notice the change immediately.

“Well, look who’s gone soft,” one of them teases during a team dinner, nudging Katie with a grin.

Katie doesn’t even try to deny it. “What can I say? I’ve got good taste.”

You laugh, your cheeks burning as you try to wave off the attention. But secretly, you love it—the way she’s so unabashedly proud to be with you.

Of course, not everything is perfect. The press catches wind of your relationship, and suddenly, your private life is splashed across tabloids and gossip columns.

“Katie McCabe’s New Flame: Who Is She?”

You try not to let it get to you, but the constant scrutiny is overwhelming. Katie does her best to shield you from it, but even she can’t control the media.

One night, after yet another article speculating about your relationship, you finally snap.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” you say, pacing your living room while Katie watches from the couch. “I didn’t ask to have my life dissected by strangers.”

“I know,” Katie says quietly. “And I’m sorry. I wish I could make it go away.”

You stop, turning to face her. “Why does it matter so much to them? Why can’t we just be normal?”

Katie stands, crossing the room to take your hands in hers. “Because nothing about us is normal, Y/N. And that’s okay. I don’t care what they say or what they think. All I care about is you.”

Her words are a balm to your frayed nerves, and you let her pull you into a hug, her arms wrapping around you like a shield.

“I’m scared, Katie,” you admit, your voice muffled against her shoulder.

“I know,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

- The first real test of your relationship comes when Katie’s team suffers a devastating loss in a high-stakes match.

She shuts down completely, her usual confidence replaced by a storm of frustration and self-doubt. She doesn’t text, doesn’t call, and when you show up at her apartment unannounced, she barely even looks at you.

“Katie,” you say gently, sitting beside her on the couch. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she mutters, staring at the TV.

You reach for her hand, but she pulls away, her jaw tight. “I just need to be alone right now.”

The words sting, but you nod, standing to leave. “Okay. But I’m here when you’re ready.”

It’s two days before she finally calls.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice heavy with guilt. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

“It’s okay,” you say, relief flooding through you. “But you don’t have to go through this alone, Katie. Let me be there for you.”

She’s quiet for a moment before she whispers, “I’m not used to letting people in.”

“I know,” you say softly. “But you let me in once. You can do it again.”

Her silence speaks volumes, and when she finally comes over that evening, she doesn’t say much. But she doesn’t need to. The way she holds you, the way she looks at you—it’s enough.

- The days after Katie’s apology are marked by a cautious rhythm. You both fall back into your routines, but there’s a new layer to your relationship—one that’s fragile and demands more care.

Katie starts opening up in small ways. She shares little details about her day, mentions how her coach has been riding the team harder since the loss, and admits how the pressure is starting to feel unbearable.

“I hate losing,” she confesses one night as you sit on the floor of your living room, sharing a bottle of wine. “But what I hate even more is letting people down.”

“You didn’t let anyone down,” you say firmly, reaching for her hand. “Football is a team sport. It’s not all on you.”

Katie looks at you, her eyes filled with something raw and unspoken. “It feels like it is sometimes.”

You squeeze her hand. “You’re not alone in this. You’ve got your team, your family… and you’ve got me.”

Her lips quirk into a small, grateful smile, and she leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

- As Katie’s team prepares for another high-profile match, the media frenzy around your relationship intensifies. Paparazzi follow you to the grocery store, articles dissect every outing, and social media buzzes with speculation.

Katie brushes it off, but you can see the toll it’s taking on her.

“It’s just noise,” she says one evening as you scroll through another invasive article. “They’ll move on eventually.”

But you’re not so sure. Your personal life is now public property, and the constant attention makes you feel exposed in ways you never expected.

The breaking point comes when a particularly nasty headline accuses you of being a distraction to Katie’s career.

“She’s better off without her,” the article declares, accompanied by a photo of the two of you walking hand in hand.

Katie finds you staring at the article, your face pale.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her tone laced with concern.

You shove your phone toward her, your voice trembling. “This. They’re saying I’m ruining your career.”

Katie skims the article, her jaw tightening. “This is bullshit,” she says sharply. “You’re not ruining anything. If anything, you’re the reason I’m still sane.”

“But what if they’re right?” you whisper. “What if I’m hurting you without even realizing it?”

Katie sets the phone down and takes your face in her hands, forcing you to look at her. “Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t let them get in your head. You’re not a distraction—you’re my anchor. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

Her words bring tears to your eyes, and you nod, letting her pull you into a tight hug.

- In the weeks that follow, you and Katie work to establish a new normal. She arranges for better security to protect your privacy, and you agree to limit your public appearances together to avoid fueling the media fire.

But behind closed doors, your relationship thrives.

Katie starts taking you to her matches, sneaking you into the players’ section so you can cheer her on without drawing attention. You learn the ins and outs of football, surprising even yourself with how invested you become.

And in return, Katie makes an effort to understand your world. She reads your favorite books, asks questions about your work, and even tries her hand at cooking one night—though the results are disastrous.

“It’s the thought that counts,” you tease as you survey the charred remains of what was supposed to be dinner.

Katie groans, burying her face in her hands. “Remind me never to set foot in a kitchen again.”

You laugh, pulling her into a hug. “Deal. But you’re doing the dishes.”

- The turning point in your relationship comes during Katie’s next big match—a game that could make or break her team’s season.

You sit in the stands, your heart pounding as you watch her on the field. She’s a force of nature, her every move calculated and precise. But as the game drags on, the opposing team scores, and you see the frustration etched across her face.

When the final whistle blows, Katie’s team has lost, and the stadium is heavy with disappointment. You make your way to the locker rooms, unsure if she’ll even want to see you.

But when she emerges, her expression tired but determined, she spots you immediately.

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft.

“Hey,” you reply, stepping closer. “You played great.”

She shakes her head. “Not good enough.”

You hesitate, then reach for her hand. “Katie, you’re allowed to be upset. But don’t forget how much you’ve already accomplished. You’re incredible, and one match doesn’t change that.”

Her eyes soften, and she pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly. “Thanks, love,” she murmurs. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you whisper back, meaning every word.

- The loss is a blow to Katie’s confidence, but it also sparks something in her—a determination to prove herself. She throws herself into training, spending extra hours on the field and analyzing game footage late into the night.

At first, you worry she’s pushing herself too hard, but she reassures you.

“I need this,” she says one evening, her voice steady. “I need to know I gave it everything.”

You support her in every way you can, packing her lunches, sneaking notes of encouragement into her bag, and even attending more matches despite the paparazzi. Slowly, the cracks in her confidence begin to mend.

Katie’s hard work pays off in her next match, where she dominates the field and leads her team to a decisive victory. The stadium erupts in cheers, and you can’t help but feel a surge of pride as she looks up at you in the stands, a triumphant grin on her face.

Afterward, she finds you waiting for her outside the locker room. Before you can say a word, she sweeps you into her arms, spinning you around.

“You’re amazing,” you say breathlessly, laughing as she sets you down.

Katie smirks. “I know. But hearing it from you makes it better.”

- As Katie’s career continues to soar, so does the scrutiny around your relationship. But instead of letting it break you, you and Katie learn to face it together.

You stop reading the tabloids, and Katie makes a point to shield you from the worst of it. “It’s just noise,” she reminds you. “What matters is us.”

And she proves it every day. Whether it’s through small gestures—like leaving flowers on your desk—or grand declarations, like when she dedicates a game-winning goal to you, Katie makes it clear that you’re her priority.

One evening, as you sit on the balcony of her apartment, watching the city lights twinkle below, she turns to you with a serious expression.

“Y/N,” she begins, her voice uncharacteristically nervous, “I’ve been thinking a lot about us.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “No. But I want you to know that I’m all in. Whatever happens—whether I win or lose, whether the media loves or hates us—I’m not going anywhere. And I hope you feel the same.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you nod. “Of course I do. You’re stuck with me, Katie McCabe.”

“Good,” she says, her grin returning. “Because I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

- The years that follow are a mix of highs and lows, victories and setbacks, but through it all, your love for each other only grows stronger.

Katie continues to dominate on the field, earning accolades and respect from fans and teammates alike. And you carve out a life for yourself that feels fulfilling and balanced, even amidst the chaos of being with someone in the spotlight.

There are challenges, of course. Arguments over schedules, moments of doubt, and the occasional media frenzy. But you learn to navigate them together, always coming back to the foundation of trust and love you’ve built.

One evening, as you sit together on your couch, Katie leans over and kisses your temple.

“You know,” she says softly, “I never thought I’d find someone like you.”

You smile, resting your head on her shoulder. “Someone who puts up with your terrible cooking and late-night football rants?”

She laughs, her arm wrapping around you. “No. Someone who makes me better. Someone who makes all of this—everything—worth it.”

Tears prick your eyes as you look up at her. “I feel the same way.”

And in that moment, you know that whatever the future holds, you’ll face it together.

Because love, real love, isn’t about perfection. It’s about finding someone who makes the imperfections worthwhile. And with Katie, you’ve found exactly that.

(Woah, this was a long one.)

[luna-loveboop]

Ok ok so Time and Winds relationship

If you look at their progression of interactions through the comic, their relationship has a very distinct storyline/character arc and it's really really cool ok

So starting at the beginning (their first and early interactions).

Time likes Wind (I mean who doesn't) they have the hero connection, and there's a lot for Time to see himself in him.

Time doesn't underestimate Wind like some of the others, he knows perfectly well what's it's like to be a young hero (way too young like geez) and still be perfectly capable.

And then everyone splits up. They enter their new timeline/era thing through the portal and they separate into groups to try and find information, and Time and Wind go together. (why is that? Maybe Wind went with who he knew wouldn't underestimate him, and maybe Time wanted to get to know him a little more. Many possibilities.)

With the group split they end up fighting a bunch of monsters (of course). And the scene after the battle is just... Time takes Wind’s sword and compliments it, the art is so soft, it's just... it's the start of them have a really caring connection

ALSO- TIME QUOTING SHADE TO WIND TIME QUOTING SHADE TO WIND

Look of a hero, discipline with the blade... those were phrases used in twilight princess by Hero's Shade (Time's skeleton ghost thingy?) when he’s teaching Twilight how to fight and become the hero he needs to be. And the fact that Time is quoting that to be Wind's mentor and guide him as a young hero is so cool. (So. Cool.)

And at the end, after the battle, Wind asks him that question, “I was wondering... about your original journey” And Time actually answers Wind's question. He tells him about his journey, and this starts a whole new chapter in their relationship. Because guess who went into detective mode? Wind.

He starts theorizing, and actually tries to get a chance to bring it up at first (“speaking of history-”), but eventually finds (makes) a moment to explain his findings.

And Time's skeptical, of course he is.

There's a few reasons why, but here's the main one: Twilight. In this scene where Wind is explaining why he believes he is the hero after Time, his descendant, Twilight, makes two appearances.

But Twilight is not part of the conversation. He's sitting a distance away, and we have no indication that he even knows they’re talking. Yet Time still looks over to him, because Twilight is his descendant. He KNOWS Twilight is his successor, but in this conversation they puzzle out a bit more of the timeline split.

And Time realizes... he has two hero's that came after him. Twilight in the main path, the one that Time previously believed was the only timeline, but there's actually more...

And at the end of that section, Time’s a little overwhelmed (who wouldn't be when you're figuring out you broke the flow of time...)

But, this is the start of Time and Wind’s relationship with Time knowing Wind's one of his successors

Yet even though he's overwhelmed, he touches Wind and acknowledges the facts he's puzzled out (and it's so so sweet)

Buuuuuut this starts a whole new chapter in their relationship. For the section where they’re puzzling out the timeline, and the next, look at their faces. You can see it in those conversations, they're uncertain. Time is trying to reshape his understanding of the world (he’s shaken and looks pretty tired, probably because he found out he left a whole timeline without a hero whoopsies)- but he also cares about Wind and wants to be there for him as well. And Wind looks very nervous around Time. He's excited that he knows he's the hero he heard about before him, but he's nervous about getting closer to him like he wants to.

Then Time goes into detective mode.

And there’s one thing Time really starts wondering: how the hell did Wind’s hyrule get flooded? It was not, in fact, a giant ocean when he left that timeline. So he asks, and Wind answers, but they don’t really start timeline talk with the rest of the group yet.

And I would like to point out that apparently Time and Wind have like. Half the brain cells of the entire group. Because we see literally no one else (at this point) has had whole sections where they’re puzzling out the timeline, but these two are over here obsessing over it lol.

After they have those talks about timelines and kingdoms, they don’t have all the answers yet, but what they have established is this: in Wind’s timeline, he is Time’s successor, and they both want to be close because of that.

And then Time just like!! Adopts Wind :)

With all this build up and conversations, we now see Time and Wind spending so much more time together.

In the group they start ending up walking near each other more often, and they start fighting closer together in battles a bit more

But it’s not one sided- we see Time keeping an eye on and watching out for Wind during battle, as well as Wind defending Time when a skeleton was like. Falling on them. And they’re just working and fighting for each other and it’s awesome.

And it’s cool because through the storyline we see the progression: Time’s the hero dad for everybody, but then he and Wind fight together, and start talking about their journeys to each other, then puzzling out the timeline, then acknowledging that Wind is a successor to Time, and asking questions, and then we see them get so much closer throughout the storyline.

(And Time is still so close to Twilight obviously, he’s his descendant and they have such a special bond but then he’s also developed this unique relationship with Wind too and it’s great)

And so it’s just evolved into a really sweet relationship because Wind looks up to Time, and Time is kind of his mentor, but at the same time he respects Wind’s strength.

And the fact that in the first place Time was willing to tell Wind about his journey simply because he asked, leading to all these discussions and getting closer… well. They care for each other, and it shows.

:)

[scorpioriesling]

Invisible String - Part 2

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Eris x reader

Warning(s): light angst if you squint. Please be advised; future parts might not be suitable for all audiences. Proceed with caution.

Summary: You'd taken the nanny position for the royal family over a year ago, not expecting what would come of it or how close you'd grow to the child you cared for. Things became tough for Eris when his wife left him and his daughter, and he found it increasingly harder to raise Riley himself. He soon realizes, you've provided a lot more than the typical job description duties for his daughter... and maybe for him, too.

SR’s Note: I added in the advisory so that younger / uncomfortable readers won't begin the series without knowing or expecting potential risks in content to come. For those who enjoy or look forward to content as such -- get excited! Nonetheless, I hope readers will enjoy this series that came to me in a dream one night. (; Much love to all.

Tags: @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @talesofadragon @rcarbo1 @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kitsunetori (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

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You paced back and forth awkwardly around your room, not sure what to do with your time. Normally, you'd give Riley a bath and see her off to bed -- but not tonight. Her father had come home during dinner today, and you almost couldn't believe your eyes when he'd materialized before the both of you in the dining room.

Gods, you'd never seen her so excited to see him come home in all the time you'd known the two. She truly missed him when he was gone, just waiting to see her dad come home at the end of the day. You understood; to be honest, you worried some nights when he would be gone late, always apologizing like his timing was the end of the world. He failed to realize that it was his safe return you were more concerned with.

You paused, shrieks of laughter heard from the opposite end of the Wing and you smiled to yourself. Padding over to your open doorway, you peeked your head out, listening as Eris' faint voice spoke with his daughter, saying something that had her giggling once more before you heard the distinct sound of her door latching shut. You retreated back into your room, trying to find anything to busy yourself as the sound of his shoes drew nearer toward your room.

"Could I offer any help with the last of those?" Eris asks, leaning casually against the doorframe as he gestures toward the stack of heavy boxes piled in the corner of your room. You turn, crossing your arms and then uncrossing them, not quite finding a comfortable position.

"Um... well, I could probably get them, tomorrow." You shrug, biting on your lower lip. Eris' eyes study your face for a long moment before he chuckles, walking over to the pile and pushing up his sleeves with such grace. He lifts the top box, his arms flexing under the weight as he adjusts his grip under the edges.

You try, really, really hard not to stare.

"I'll leave these outside to be picked up in the morning, unless you needed them to be kept for something?" He asks, and you all but shake your head before he heads out of your room, leaving you in awe. You shake your head, get it together. That is your boss, for Gods sakes. You take a deep breath, pushing your hair behind your ears before reaching for the next highest box, barely reaching the upper rim before its contents nearly spill over on top of you.

"Cauldron damned-" your curse is cut off when the box doesn't completely dump out on to you, but is caught haphazardly between your hands and one of Eris'. His other one is wrapped around your waist, preventing your impending collision with the floor.

"Woah! Woah," he says, his voice much closer than you expected and you open your eyes you'd inadvertently squeezed shut. He loomed over you, holding you so close to his chest that you sucked in a breath, your eyes widening when they met his peering down at you.

"I'm..." you made to stand, and he lifted the cardboard from your hands. "I thought I could help with that one." You said sheepishly. He chuckled, glancing sidelong at you.

"Always trying to do everything," he muttered. "Honestly, I'm just surprised to hear Y/N actually say a bad word out loud."

You set your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow and ignoring his teasing remark.

"This is my mess, anyhow. I was just trying to help."

He turns, heading for the door once more.

"Allow me to help you for once, hm?" He says, winking and walking out. You roll your eyes, irritated at how warm your cheeks feel. You flit about the room, putting random smaller items away and folding a few articles of clothing as Eris makes the last few trips. When he comes back in for the final time, he sits on the edge of your bed with a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

You look to him, noticing his exhaustion from the day again. "Thank you," you say, and he looks to you again. He offers you a small smile, leaning back on his hands.

"For all that you've done, helping you move a few boxes is incomparable." Your lips curve upward as you place a few more of your skirts inside the drawers of the dresser, averting his eye. After a few shared moments of quiet, he speaks again.

"This room... its... I'm glad someone is using it again." He says, his hand running softly over the duvet. You glance at him, his fallen expression puzzling as you go about tidying up.

"Oh?"

He's quiet again before he looks at you. "I used to avoid coming in here, after... well, after Selene left." He says quietly, and you pause. The air feels thick, you try to keep breathing evenly as your mind races.

"She... the two of you didn't share...?"

"No." He whispers, looking at the floor. "She thought only mates should share a room."

You shoved the drawer closed, walking slowly to the bedside and sitting next to him.

"I'm sure this is common knowledge by now, but our marriage was simply a transaction, a sign of goodwill between our courts." He let out a humorless laugh. "No magic, golden thread there."

For everything he'd done for his court, all the battles he'd won, every fight he'd fought and all he'd witnessed... this was a subject he rarely discussed, as it seemed tomdrag him down the most.

"Eris..." You said softly, reaching out a hand timidly and placing it on his arm. He braced lightly against the touch, and you leaned closer. "I'm so sorry that you were treated that way-"

He sniffed, his hand rubbing along his jaw quickly before he stood, your outstretched hand slowly retracting with the distance between you two.

"It's alright. Nothing for you to worry about, anyway." He flashed a humorless half-smile, and you stared up at him with concern. You could tell it was a tough subject for him, and you definately didn't want to pry; but he didn't exactly have many other people to open up to.

"Well... alright then." You say defeatedly. He nods, turning and heading for the door. He looks over his shoulder only once more before closing the door behind him.

"Sleep well, Y/N."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Apple juice, please?" Riley asks, and you pour her a fresh glass, delivering it to her awaiting hand. She sips quietly, then blinks a few times when you sit down beside her. "Oh -- thanks!" She smiles.

You nod, silently praising her good mannered habits. You could still remember when you arrived at the Forest House, the little spitfire was ordering people around at the ripe age of three. "Give this!" and "Do that!" was all she managed, and though her heart was pure, you did encourage better etiquitte; luckily, it stuck.

"Daddy said he have a surprise," she swung her legs under the table, some of her juice swishing in her cup. You raised an eyebrow.

"Did he, now?" You weren't sure what she was talking about, or if there really was a surprise at all. Eris had made haste this morning, rushing past you this morning on his way out the door. He'd barely kissed his daughter goodbye before he was on his horse and halfway to the border-

"He did! He said he had one." She insisted, and you nodded in understanding. What it could be, you had no clue.

"Well, lets finish our dinner so we're ready when he gets home, yes?" You suggest, and Riley agrees, jamming the last of her chicken nuggets into her mouth and chewing with maximum effort. You shake your head, smiling at just how normal the girl was. You were just glad she found joy in chicken nuggets still, and didn't request challenging dishes every meal quite yet.

Insisting on wearing her fluffy pink footie pajamas, Rylie then sat in your lap on the couch, her stuffed beagle clutched in her hands as you brushed out her wet-clean locks.

"Braid it pretty?" She asks, and you leaned in, kissing the top of her little head. She grinned, holding her little beagle's head to her lips and kissing it's head just the same.

"Anything for you, Riles," you say, getting to work on the long strawberry strands. She sits very patiently for a four year old; that is, until you've secured the band at the end of your work and the front door creaks open.

"Daddy!" She's up in an instant, running to the door with glee and clinging to her father's leg the moment she spots him. You stay seated a moment longer, listening from the living area but not quite ready to see Eris yet. After the tense conversation last night, you couldn't help but feel... awkward, after the conversation.

After a few minutes, Riley has retreated to the living room looking rather dejected. Your brows knit as she stalks toward you, her beagle hanging limply from her fingers.

"Daddy says bedtime. You take me please?" She says, looking down at the floor. You frown, your hands lifting under her arms as she wraps her legs around your waist.

"Of course sweetie," you try to sound upbeat, but she only lays her head on your shoulder. You pet her head, wrapping your other hand around her to keep her propped up against your waist as you make your way to her end of the Wing. You look around as you go, not seeing any sign of Eris on your way. He literally just got home, what the Hell could he possibly have to do right now?

Once you reach her room, you place her gently atop her plush duvet, her eyes half closed when her head touches the pillow. You pull a loose blanket over her legs, knowing sometimes she gets cold at night, and kiss her little cheek one last time before moving toward the door.

"Y/N," she whispers. Your eyes meet hers in the dim light, your fingers stalling as they reach for the glowing tableside lamp.

"Yes dear?"

"Can you please read? Please?" Her bottom lip trembles. "D-daddy always reads... he reads my book..." she sucks in a breath of air, and you rush over to her bed, taking her little hand in yours.

"Yes, of course honey!" You say, hoping she will feel better. "I would love to read you a story," you look left and right, searching for any tomes near her bed. She lifts a limp hand, her finger pointing to the book resting at the opposite end of her bed.

"You'd like that one? The Kissing Hand?" She nods, one tear slipping free and running down her cheek. You hastily grab the book, and she scoots over, making a space for you to lay beside her. You scoot close, reaching an arm around her and she snuggles close as you flip open the book. Her little fingers wipe her tear from her cheek, and you begin to read.

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You weren't sure when you'd drifted off, but when you slipped back into consciousness, your back ached from its cramped position on the small bed. You looked around, the darkened room coming into view as well as the peacefully sleeping babe next to you.

You must have fallen asleep reading to her, you thought. Surely you'd left the lamp on though; its glow would come in handy now as you tried to slip silently out of her embrace, sneaking out in absolute darkness. At least the door was still cracked open.

You'd stumbled around quietly enough and made it down the hallway to the kitchen, the clock on the wall coming into view.

Four in the morning. Gods.

You kept walking, feeling along the walls until you found your bedroom door, and let yourself inside.

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You woke up that morning to the delicious smell of cinnamon and sugar, the comfort of your plush bed surrounding you as the first light of day drifted through your curtains. You yawned, stretching out your arms and slowly opening your eyes.

Ahh, what a lovely morning.

Morning. The sun was out.

You threw the covers off of you hastily, your bare feet hitting the cold wood floors in a rush as you lunged for your door handle. Riley was surely awake by now, and surely starving. You bounded down the hallway, your steps faltering when you heard her familiar ramblings from the kitchen and registered the smell of food wafting through the air.

As you approached, you watched in pure shock as Eris stood over the kitchen island, his hand holding his daughters as he helped her spread icing over a tray of steaming cinnamon rolls, smiling and talking along with her. He hadn't noticed you walk in; but she sure did.

"Y/N! Finally! You're awake!" She squealed happily, and you forced a smile, still confused by the scene before you. Eris looked up then, his eyes meeting yours only briefly before he went back to the treats he was making.

"Good morning Riley," you said hesitantly, stepping closer toward the island. Eris' eyes flicked up again, snagging on the silk pajamas you'd changed into before collapsing onto your bed last night. You crossed your arms over your chest.

"Good morning. Eris." You said, and his mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Morning Y/N." He said plainly before turning to Riley, lifting her off the counter and setting her on the ground.

"Bunny, why don't you set the table," he handed her the silverware and a few plates. "And we'll join you in just a few minutes?" She nods, skipping into the dining room, as Eris braces his hands against the countertop, his eyes locked on yours once more.

You stare back, shrugging when you can't understand the point of standing in silence. "What?" You ask. He sighs, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Y/N, I'm sorry for the... discussion. We had. The other night, it was... highly, unprofessional." He nodded, looking down at the pan of cinnamon rolls once more. You raised an eyebrow, a soft laugh erupting from your lips and causing him to flick his gaze to you again.

"What is funny?" He asks, seeming a bit taken aback.

"Nothing, no," you say, smiling softly at him. "I just... Eris, I live in your home. I spend every day with your daughter. I think we're beyond professional, aren't we?" You say. He cocks his head to the side, a small smirk curving the side of his lips.

"I suppose we are, then."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Daddy. These cimanim rolls. Are. Delicious!" Riley grins with delight, Eris' expression a mirror of his daughter sitting next to him at the table. You watch the two and your heart swells; one day, you could only dream of having something so special as that.

"Why, thank you Princess!" Eris says, and she holds her chin high. You shake your head at her, and Eris' eyes meet yours, his face giving away exactly what he's thinking. After a few more quiet moments, he speaks up again.

"Bunny, I wanted to ask you about doing something fun today," he says, and Riley immediately perks up.

"Fun?" She asks, and he nods.

"In the Town Square, there is the Autumn Festival, and it would make me very happy as your daddy if you would go with me-"

"Yesss!" She shrieks, every single one of her teeth showing as she smiles in excitement. You can't help but feel so happy for her -- she deserves time with her father, and he's finally home to spend it with her, doing something she had been longing to do anyway.

"Ohmygosh I can't wait! I will wear my Princess dress so everyone knows I am a Princess, okay," she explains hastily, only pausing to take a sip from her glass of milk.

Eris nods, looking to you. "I figured you may appreciate at least a day off as well," he adds quietly, and you offer him a gentle smile. Truly, you didn't need one, but you appreciated his consideration all the same. Riley doesn't quite catch the incinuation, though.

"Y/N, you have to wear a dress. You can't borrow from me this time because you're too big," she says, hopping from her chair. "You have a dress?" She asks. Your eyes meet her dad's and his mouth opens to answer first.

"Bunny," he starts. "I don't think Y/N was going to come today," he explains. Rileys brows knit in confusion as she looks at him.

"Why not?"

"Well," he says, trying to tread lightly. "Maybe Y/N has other things she would like to do today. It's okay though; just me and you can go." He says, but Riley looks to you, her eyes looking you up and down.

"What... what else do you want to do though?" She says, and you chuckle.

"Riley, honey, today you can go have fun with your daddy, alright? Me and you play here everyday," You reason with her. She doesn't let up, and Eris studies you from across the table.

"Daddy -- can Y/N just come too?" Riley says. You sigh, looking to Eris for help, but he only stares quietly at you, a small smile on his lips.

"I really will just stay here-"

"Yes." Eris says, and you meet his eyes, Riley spinning in happy little circles at the end of the table. "Y/N can absolutely come with us today."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[kingtomura]

Vitality | 5

Summary: You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home. Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you.  All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. content: shigaraki tomura x female reader, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader has a quirk, graphic depictions of violence, past abuse, past sa, angst, pstd, eventual smut, dark themes, found family LoV, mdni wc: 5.8k | prev | chapter 6 | m. list | read on ao3

Shigaraki can’t seem to figure out what it is about you that pulls you to him. It’s something that gnaws at the walls of his brain and it makes his skin itch. 

When he’s plotting schemes — you’re there. When he’s in the field, away on missions that will progress his goals — you’re there. And when he closes his eyes at night to go to bed?

You’re there. 

Haunting his mind like a ghost. 

A ghost of his past, a ghost of his present. He just can’t put his finger on it but there is a familiarity in you that only he can see. 

Shigaraki has always had hazy memories, but this one is so distinct — it replays in his mind at the worst of times. 

Is it your face? So innocent, so kind, but filled with hidden valor. Something so easily overlooked by your usually skittish demeanor. 

Shigaraki has taken notice of that. It was one of the first things that caught his eye about you. 

But is it your personality? The way there is more than meets the eye — a budding courage and fortitude growing under the concrete of your fragile frame of mind. 

He didn’t know. All he knew for the time being was that this bothered him. It gave him things to think about that had nothing to do with the new society he would bring. 

It was a distraction. 

There’s a sharp pain along the side of Shigaraki's neck and it’s then he realizes his bad habit of scratching has made itself known again. Something he’s been trying to work on has pried its way back into his mind. 

Whatever. 

It doesn’t matter what these feelings mean — all that matters is his goal and his plans to bring it into fruition.

Anything else is a distraction. 

———————

You have to leave today. 

The mission shouldn’t take long — three days max, but you still feel anxious about it. Dabi is in charge and you trust him to know what he’s doing. 

You don’t really trust him to keep you safe, though. 

It should be simple enough — stay back, do your job and come back to the base. 

A quick and easy mission. 

Or it would have been, until Dabi paid you a visit. 

“Do you understand?” his voice drags, air of boredom present as if he didn’t just turn your world upside down.

Dabi wants you to help on the mission. He wants you to—

“But that wasn’t the plan! I’m a healer.”

His cerulean eyes narrow, slight hint of irritation flashing over his features before it's gone again, “I know what you are. This would be more useful.” 

You stare at him as he flippantly waves you off and starts towards your doorway, unaware that you are sick at the notion of helping someone cause harm. 

“It’s not optional.” He tacks on, words ringing in your ears. 

You're struck still as Dabi departs, leaving you alone to bear the burden of silence as you anticipate what your new role will bring. 

It’s clear that you’ve lost. 

Dabi wants you to help him interrogate the moles.

He believes that your healing would pair well with his burning. A tactic that can wear the moles down enough to give the information Dabi seeks. It’s a cruel task and one you were not sure you could go through with. 

You may be a villain now but you are not evil.

You were not cruel — no matter how cruel the world had been to you. 

The thoughts weigh on your mind as you move to stand, nerves buzzing as you begin to pace around your room.

No, no, you were a healer. Maybe you were never intending to be a hero, but you never want to harm others either. Even if those others hold the title of villain. 

There had to be another way.

You stop, still in your tracks as the metaphoric lightbulb goes on in your head, steering the gears on your mind into action as the thoughts fall into place. 

You had an idea — a plan.

A small smile makes its way onto your face and you feel as though you’ve solved the unsolvable. 

Maybe, just maybe, no one had to get hurt on this mission.

———————

The sound of dripping pipes and scatter of steps too small to be human grate your ears and make you shudder. 

It’s creepy down here. 

That’s the only thing that comes to mind as you trail behind Dabi through abandoned tunnels. 

You sidestep some fallen debris and realize that the underground tunnels here are a reminder to never take the tunnels below the bar for granted. 

It’s slummy, it’s dark and it smells like abandoned agony. 

There are graffiti stains along the walls, leaking pipes against the ceilings and the floors are littered with fluids of all colors. 

Just being down here makes your stomach twist as your body subconsciously moves closer to Spinner, who trudges beside you as you all navigate through the area. 

Your father would have never allowed you to roam a place like this. 

But he’s not here anymore. 

And you’re a villain now. 

(Kind of.) 

Dabi is in front of you, leading the way as you all trek the halls of the abandoned underground. He moves with the confidence of someone who has seen and done this a million times. You absently wonder if he has. 

You knew next to nothing of Dabi. Nothing about where he’s from, how he’s grown up or where he got his burns — nothing. 

But with his steel gaze and uninterested tone, you think it’s better that way. 

Maybe knowing nothing could be a gift. 

“How much longer?” Spinner breaks the silence as his voice echoes through the halls. 

Dabi doesn't look back, only continuing his trek along the tunnels. “Just keep moving.”

As desperate as you are to know where this trek is heading you decide to hold your tongue. The air of this place is eerie enough and the sooner you get there, the sooner you can leave. 

But it’s odd, you’ve been walking for what feels like hours and you can’t help the nagging feeling that nothing has really changed. 

Not until you all come up on a large corridor. One with two identical, dark pathways. 

Dabi stops in his tracks, leading you both to follow his actions. “Alright wannabe, you go left, I’ll go right.” He throws you a glance, features as indifferent as his tone. “Healer, you’re with me.”

“We’re splitting up?” Spinner pipes up, frustrations of the endless trail palpable and you silently wonder if sending him alone was the safest way to go.

“To cover more ground. You have your way to contact me if you find them.” the arsonist shrugs, mind set on the given direction and you hurry to keep up with him — Spinner going in his respective direction with more brevity than you had previously given him credit for. 

There’s a slight ping in your chest and you kick yourself for thinking Spinner couldn’t hold his own alone. He was still a part of the League afterall. 

You and Dabi both veer right, into the limitless corridor with dim lights sparking like they could go out at any moment. 

This is not a place you would want to find yourself alone in. 

With the crunch of broken beer bottle glass and deep red splatters of what you could only assume as blood along the walls, you truly wonder what you’ve walked into. 

You decide to tread beside Dabi, catching up to his stride and ensuring he won’t leave your sight. 

The warmth radiating from his body is as nice as it is intimidating. It shows just how hot his body naturally runs from his dormant quirk. 

But it’s comforting. It blankets you and soothes the goosebumps that had spread across your skin in the chilled air of the tunnels. 

The silence between you feels natural and not forced, even though your curious questions about his past pry themselves to the forefront of your mind. 

You prefer this, you think. Wandering in silence while looking for the moles. You almost feel.. safe with Dabi here to guide the mission. 

“Hey—”

You gasp and turn back, swearing you heard another voice.

But there was nothing there. 

“Spinner?” You call out into the depths of the hall, walls fading into pitch black as you stare and wait for a response. 

The dark abyss is quiet as you wait for any signs of movement, but everything is stock-still. 

You turn back to Dabi, eyes lingering on the darkness, “did you hear that—?”

You look around but the arsonist is nowhere to be found. The sinking feeling in your heart deepens as your palms grow sweaty with simmering fear.

“Dabi?” 

Nothing. 

He was there just a moment ago, there was no way he could have left your sight. It’s a one way hall with no other doors. 

No, you think, panic rising as you move to sprint down the hall, go the way you know he has to be walking, Dabi wouldn’t leave you in here alone. 

Before you’re able to take your next step, hands engulf you, the sheer shock causes a cry to escape your lips only to be quieted by another hand covering your mouth. 

“Gotcha.”

———————

There's a sluggish and slow pull as you fight to open your eyes. Your nose twitches as your body feels like it's been thrown underwater and brought back to shore just moments before an inevitable demise. 

You feel heavy.

It’s a struggle to move your arm and it takes even longer for you to realize they’re being held together by your wrists. You fight harder to blink yourself awake and it’s then that you notice the voices speaking amongst themselves in the foreign space you’ve found yourself in. 

Your vision is blurry but you flutter until there’s clarity. 

Their voices sound muffled, like you were really underwater as they spoke, but the more you focused the clearer things became. 

There were three men in this room. 

One had dark hair and gleaming red eyes, while the other looked to be much younger. He sat atop a dusty desk and leered at you from a distance, speaking with the third man in a tone too chipper for the line of work he must be in.

The third man in question had you held by the wrists. 

He was behind you, laughing as one hand held your wrists and the other roamed in places that made you feel sick to your stomach. 

“Oh look, she’s awake. Morning princess.” The younger one spoke, green eyes almost glowing despite the darkness of the room. 

Morning? No, there was no way it was morning, but you couldn’t tell up from down right now. You tried and tried, but the grogginess you felt just would not go away.  

You move to speak, but the man behind you is faster, bringing a hand to your mouth to stop your voice before it's free. 

Your eyes dart around the room, seeking any form of familiarity. You only spot a worn down chair that one of the men had occupied, an old, dusty office desk and several metal wire shelves. 

Nothing helpful.

You try again to release your wrists, body slow moving and feeling as though it had been made of lead, but you fight with the strength you have. The man behind you only chuckles, easily amused by your struggle. 

“Whoa there, don’t hurt yourself. My quirk has you doped up with enough tranquilizer to take down a bear.” 

His quirk. Of course. 

You mentally kick yourself at the oversight. How could you be so naive? 

He leans closer, breath ghosting your ear. “Just relax.”

You scramble to remember your training, your fighting skills, anything but it all comes up short against a real life threat. The reality of the situation only makes you sick to your stomach and you cannot believe how woefully unprepared you are.  

You look at the two men in front of you through dreary eyes and know that it doesn’t take a genius to see where this is going. 

Your brows knit in frustration as you begin to feel lightheaded once more, but you desperately try to stay centered. 

“We really don’t have time for this.” A voice speaks up, it's the man with dark hair and narrowed eyes glaring at the other man holding you. You finally notice his lit cigarette and the way it’s awful smell clouds the room. 

The sleeze behind you only chuckles, dark and low as he removes the hand from your mouth to grab your cheeks, squeezing them as he releases your wrists, knowing his quirk has made you weak enough to do so. He pulls you closer by the waist. “Don’t we? Look at her. You don’t come across this often.”

The other nods in agreement, rising from his place on the dusty desk in the corner of the room. Even in your haze you can tell this place is dingy and abandoned — filled with old worn furniture that wouldn't sit on if they paid you. 

“Yeah, you should loosen up.” He mocks, stalking towards you with a sly grin, calling back to the third member of the trio. He places a hand on your head, moving your hair from your eyes. “She’s cute.” 

Your breath is ragged as you struggle against the hold, forcing the man to release your face and he pins your arms behind your back again instead. “Whoa there, feisty.” 

His laugh echoes in your ears and you desperately wonder where your comrades could be at a time like this. 

The man before you watches as you search the bare room for any kind of exit, an amused smile on his face.  

“Any chance that Blue Flame guy will interrupt us soon?” The one behind you speaks, and you close your eyes, knowing he’s gotten you figured out. 

“No way. He’s still stuck in disillusion. By the time he breaks out of it we’ll be long gone.” They both laugh at the idea and it puts your stomach in knots. Of course the other would have a quirk like that. 

No wonder it felt like you were going in circles. 

It’s because you had been. 

“That’s what I like to hear.” 

The next moments feel like a blur as you struggle to catch your breath. 

He is swift as he turns you toward the desk, pushing you forward and bending you over the dusty surface with ease. The panic from before is back and beating against your chest at full force. There was no way this was happening. 

Not like this.

You start to thrash again, even though your body feels like you're trailing it through sludge. 

It's pointless.

You try again to yell — to call for Dabi who was supposed to be with you throughout this, but nothing comes out. God only knows where he could be now, trapped in some illusionary quirk, blind to the time passing by. Wandering for hours. 

Completely oblivious to the danger you were in. 

Your knees tremble when you feel the heat of the other man leering over you, it makes you turn your head, eyes locking with the third guy in the room. 

He meets your eyes, reluctantly watching as his comrades make lewd comments about your body and move in on your space. There is obvious disdain in his crimson eyes but he makes no move to comment further. 

Damn it, damn it, damn it. 

There was nothing you could do to shake the effects of this tranquilizer quirk. Goosebumps rise along your skin as you feel the sticky residue left behind by the other man’s quirk as his hands ghost any bare skin he could reach. 

You were going to be sick. 

“The plans…” the seated one interjects, desperate to stay on topic. “We have to rendezvous with him again tomorrow night. We can’t stay here any longer.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know.” You heard the younger one interject, disinterest clear in his tone. 

“This is our last stint working with the league. Maybe we can leave them a parting gift.” The other breathes from above you, slowly dragging his palms along your clothed sides. 

The response makes the third guy roll his eyes and the younger one laughs. 

“N-no…” you find your voice, as small and meek as it may be, you choke out a whispered plea, so faint you almost didn’t hear it yourself. 

“What’s that girl?” You can hear the grin in his words, to think you had derived a plan that would save these assholes. 

To think you didn’t want them to die.  

“You scared?” He mocks, “what, you a virgin or somethin’?”

The warm tears begin to fall, pushing past your waterline and onto the dirty desk. 

“She’s crying! She is!” The blond shouts, excited at his unspoken discovery. 

“How lucky.”

The third of the trio sighs, removing the cigarette from his lips and rising from his place on the chair, but not before making eye contact with you, real eye contact. 

The kind that makes your heart jump at the notion — and then you see it.

The flash of pity. 

Your heart skips at the flash of his reluctance. 

It's so firm and so clear that you can almost feel the idea of him stepping in to save you, knowing that being a villain doesn’t mean you have to be downright villainous, but your hope is crushed as soon as it arrives. 

Stomped out onto the asphalt along with the man’s finished cigarette. 

The man sighs again, rolling his eyes at his comrades as he makes his way to the door, taking your hopes and wishes with him. 

“Well you fuckers better not take too long. I’m leaving.” 

And then he’s gone — leaving you with the men who will use and abuse you. There was a chance to stop something horrific but he couldn’t care less. 

It makes you think. 

It takes you back to your father and his never ending rants of how all men feel the same about girls like you. Stupid, naive and never able to stand on their own.

He put men like this away while wearing the mask of a public servant only to strip the mask and become the same of those he claimed to hate behind closed doors. 

But he’s not here anymore and now you were left in the hands of the unfamiliar.

You can’t help the bile that rises in your throat as you wonder if this was destined to be your fate in the end no matter what. 

You wish you had a choice. 

God, how foolish had you been. 

How naive of you to want to save these men from the League's wrath. 

You should have known better. You’ve been shown time and time again. 

They are all the same. 

They would always only want one thing from you and there was nothing you could do to stop or change it. 

But…

There’s a flash in your mind, of narrowed red eyes and soft pale hair. 

You think of his gloved hand, offering his drink to you. Of his hushed laugh late that night when you unintentionally insulted him. The leader of this group of villains you’ve found yourself a part of, the one who has treated you with nothing but respect since he’s met you. 

The sickness returns. 

The humiliation burns at your eyes. 

Tomura trusted you to be here and now you will pay for it. 

It’s as ironic as it is cruel. 

You were going to be sick. 

“What a prude.” The guy scoffs and turns to his younger comrade, bringing you out of your dissociated stupor and back to your unfortunate reality. 

He lifts you once more, putting your body on display for his younger friend and brings a hand around to cup your clothed breast.

He’s loose with his movements, halfheartedly holding your wrist with one hand and gloating with the other. It’s enough to leave your other hand free and you wince as it dangles by your side. 

You feel the breeze of the open door, pitch black outside of it and wish you had the strength to make a run for it. 

You were so close, like a carrot dangling in front of you face, but just far enough to be out of reach.

His words feel loud in your ears and you close your eyes, resigned to your fate.  “He doesn’t know what he’s missin’ out on.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

The man tenses and that’s all you register before you feel a strong pull. 

A heavy hand grips your forearm and pulls with a force you’ve never felt before. It’s so hot you almost feel burned but your mind is too groggy to care. 

And then it happens. 

You feel it before you see it. 

Blue flames erupt into the room that you were pulled out of. 

If there were screams they are too distant to be noted now. All you feel is heat and you’re beginning to sweat. You can't tell if you’ve been overdosed by the guy’s intoxicating quirk or if your mind was too stressed to care. 

All you can do is pant and struggle to watch as the familiar blue flames lick the frame of the door and incinerate those inside of it. 

(And as you watch the room bathe in flashes of cyan blue and purple hue, the sleezy men wither away into ash — into nothing — it finally clicks in your mind that oh.

His villain name means creation for this reason exactly.)

The men who held you before were no more. That thought alone would have sent you into another fit of tears if the heat from Dabi’s flames hadn’t dried the trails of them from before. 

The flame user in question stands beside you, breathing heavy and teeth bared. You can’t tell if the smell of burning flesh is coming from him or the two bodies he’s just burned and you don’t think you can stomach another thought towards the answer. 

His brows are pinched in anger and you don’t think you’ve seen this much expression from the man since you’ve known him. 

The hand holding your arm is gripping you so tight it almost hurts, but you couldn’t pull away if you wanted to. 

As if the idea of letting Dabi go would take this all away — as if it would make you wake up and face a reality where Dabi is not fast enough to save you. 

A reality where your nightmares are realized. 

“One of them got away.” Dabi low voice rasps and you can only register that conclusion by the footsteps echoing from farther away. He ran the opposite direction, with a head start and far away from Dabi’s wrath. “Maybe Spinner will catch the fucker.”

You can’t bring yourself to speak nor nod. The effects of the quirks toxin are still sweeping through your body with its wrath. 

There’s a lasting lump of dread in your stomach that makes you feel bolted where you stand. It pulls and pulls, dragging you lower and lower until you can no longer keep yourself upright.

You tense, mentally bracing yourself to meet the cold hard feeling of concrete, but somehow, the feeling never comes.

———————

There is something to be said to those with heavy quirks. Those who have quirks that stay for much longer than they should and linger well past their welcome. 

The intoxicating quirk of the sleezy villain before is definitely one you’re happy you’ll never encounter again. 

Your head feels full of cotton as you struggle to catch your bearings, hands gripping the sides of the toilet. It’s been this way since you woke up from the outing. 

The unpleasant remains of the toxins have ruined your stomach, and you’ve found yourself here, on the floor of the bathroom for the better half of an hour. 

A seesaw of back and forth nausea from the quirk and the fact that those two men are dead. 

Gone forever. 

Incerated. 

You don’t think you’ll ever forget the smell of their burning flesh and the final sounds of their screams. 

You wearily eye your cell phone, tossed onto the tile of the floor and locked. It’s inviting, almost calling to you as your hand hovers over it. 

You could call Shigaraki and tell him about the disaster mission you’ve just experienced, but you stop yourself. 

What did you expect would happen? That he would comfort you like he did on the roof? 

He is your leader, not your friend. 

You scoff bitterly at your spiraling train of thought. 

If you called him now It would just be a show of how incapable you are, and you can’t risk this new home you’ve found. 

So, instead of fighting a losing battle, you bring shaky hands to your forehead, the warmth of your own healing quirk soothing you in a way that feels reminiscent to your mother’s ways. 

There was no use waiting around in a stuffy bathroom. Men were dead because of you. 

You know you shouldn’t feel guilt for it — they were trying to hurt you — but the deaths are so heavy on your mind. 

Forcing yourself to stand on wobbly legs, you walk back to your temporary room. 

Shigaraki set you all up with a cover home, seemingly belonging to a family of three but long abandoned. You took the room of the young daughter, the place covered top to bottom in lace and frills. 

You try not to wonder where she’s ended up. 

Your temporary bedroom is down the hall from the bathroom, not too far for any emergency nausea. 

And from the short distance you can see that there’s someone in your room. 

The closer you get to the door the clearer it becomes that it’s only Dabi, seated and awaiting your return. It would be a lie to say the nausea you felt in that moment only came from the quirk. 

“Have a seat.”  He wastes no time breaking the air, thick rasp of his voice making you hesitate as you linger in the doorway. 

Your eyes fall to the ground as the persistent dread in your gut grows, but you do as he instructs. The bed below you feels too soft, a stark contrast from the firm one you’ve grown to know at the hideout. 

You know what this is about, but the anxiety fills you all the same. 

There was nowhere to run. 

Dabi would tell Shigaraki of your failure today and let him know how you weren’t cut out for this. You would have to leave. 

You would have to—

“What are you gonna do?” His dreary voice drags, cutting through your train of thought. 

You look up at him. 

“What?”

“There’s one more left. Are you going to sit here puking your guts out about this or are you going to finish what they started?”

You eye Dabi wearily. 

Was he.. was he trying to encourage you?

With his narrowed eyes and crossed arms this feels more like an attempted pep talk from an emotionally stunted relative than a scolding from a higher up. 

“I… I don’t know.” You murmur, unsure of how to heed this conversation. Shouldn’t you be on the chopping block right now? “Two of them are dead. I think I’ve done enough damage—”

You don’t miss the eye roll Dabi couldn’t be bothered to hide. 

“Why do you feel sympathetic? They wouldn’t give half a shit about you.” He spits and you flinch at the harsh words, knowing they were nothing but the truth. “Nobody cares about people like us.” 

People like us, you think bitterly. Villains. Outcasts. People that aren’t worth saving. People that are lost causes. There are no heroes for those like Dabi — and now, people like you. 

The thought makes you choke up, vision blurring as you bring a hand to your mouth. It’s too late to melt from the humiliation of this, and the weight of the day is just too heavy to carry anymore. 

“This world is cruel.” He continues, tone even and leveled despite your come apart. “You need to learn to stand on your own. We may not always be there to save you.”

It’s the truth. The cold hard reality you face. You would be lying if you said those hands wouldn’t haunt your nightmares for years to come. 

But you wanted to try. As futile as it may have sounded. It’s why even through your tears you speak, “I-I had a plan, you know.” 

Dabi’s brow quirks at this, head tilted in interest.

“I didn’t want anyone to get h-hurt. It was stupid, I know! But I wanted to try.”

You expect him to dismiss you, to say how naive and even childish you may sound. You don’t expect his next words. 

“And what was that plan?”

You look up, warm tears still cascading down your flushed cheeks and your nose probably looking less than sightly. “What?”

“Tell it to me and maybe we can work something out.” His cerulean eyes shimmer with curiosity. You could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he begins to piece together his own thoughts and ideas for your next courses of action. 

And you think to yourself, watching as he listened intently to your words that maybe there was more to Dabi’s personality than meets the eye. 

———————

You thought you would never be down in the tunnels again. It was unfamiliar and cold, if Dabi were to light the entire thing on fire you would be fine with it. 

Each step you take through these grotesque tunnels makes the pit of dread in your stomach grow deeper and deeper. 

It’s unsettling to be back here — even knowing the men were dead. 

You look to your right, turning down the next hall and continuing on your way. 

Spinner said the last one never left the tunnels and there’s only one way out. You’re sure he’s been backed into a corner with Dabi patrolling the area and Spinner lurking and listening. 

That only leaves you. If the man wanted to take the easier target, it’s clear he would choose you. 

You almost scoff. Of course he would. 

But you were ready today. There were no more illusion quirks and no more ambushing. There was just you and—-

You stop in your tracks, the sound of a footstep slashing against water draws your attention. 

The nerves almost build again but you force yourself to focus. This is possibly your last chance to make things right, for yourself more than anything, but also for the mission. 

Keep yourself quiet and lure him in, just like Dabi instructed. 

His movements are sloppy, you can tell from the way he blows his cover to tackle you from the back, but the same trick won't work on you twice. 

You turn, fully ready to send a punch his way when he moves, pushing you to the side and through a weakened door beside you. 

You both tumble to the floor, the hard concrete scraping against your arms as you fight for your life with the skills you’d learned from Toga. You know that with her training and your determined mind it will be all the more easy to get the upper hand today. 

And you do. 

It's a cheap shot, but you hit him where it hurts, climbing onto him when he has no choice but to coil over. 

Your bat was lost in the scuffle, forgotten as you pulled out one of Toga’s slender knives she had gifted to you. Training with her had made you adopt many of her ways, but you were thankful for them. 

They remind you of how far you had come.

Remind you that no, you were not weak like you once thought. 

You look down at the man below you, his eyes closed as he begged for your forgiveness. 

You were ambushed. 

Your training was not in vain. 

“Wait!” The man below you pleads and it's now that you can see the bags under his eyes, whether it be from anguish of his fallen comrades or the lack of sleep you know he hadn’t gotten last night. It doesn’t matter, you can clearly see the cracks. 

You pause, holding the knife to his throat with narrowed eyes, the look urges him to continue — to plead his case. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he starts and you have to keep yourself from scoffing, “I-I know what they did was wrong — I know! But it had nothing to do with me.”

Your brow twitches in annoyance, but you let him go on. This was your part of the deal you made with Dabi. You wanted a chance to hear them out, or to hear the last one out — to see if there was any way that a compromise could be made. 

But now that you had the man here underneath you and groveling you felt something you never had before.

You felt… strong. 

“Just let me go.” His words break through your thoughts, they were tired and worn. Like he knew his time was up. “I know you’re better than this.”

This time you scoff at the irony. 

Better than this, he says. As if that would have gotten you out of that room unscathed. As if being better than this would have made him step in and stop his comrades from trying to assault you.

Yeah, better than this is complete bullshit. 

He’s wrong. 

In this world there is no such thing as fairness. 

If you let him go, if you let him leave here there’s no telling what else he would leak. 

You believe this is why Dabi allowed you the freedom of enacting your plan. The plan where you wanted to hear their side, their story. But now you know better.

It's you or them. Even men who were complacent had no room for your mercy.

So with a (not so heavy) heart you stare down at the man, eyes even and leveled.  

“He’s in here!” Your voice echoes throughout the run down building and the man curses you, calls you every name under the sun but you cannot bring yourself to care. 

“You stupid bitch—!”

In a world like this one it’s win or lose. Take or be taken. 

Kill or be killed. 

Dabi is in the room in an instant, whistling an impressed tune. 

“Not bad, little bird.” His grin grows as he assesses the scene, staples pulling at his skin in ways you can only assume are painful. “I knew you had it in you.” 

He steps closer, gravel crunching under his boots as he bends down eye level with the man. 

“Now, let’s get this show started.”

[mykoreanlove]

manifested

You were barely awake as you noticed the grip around your waist getting tighter. It was your boyfriend laying behind you, pulling you closer and nestling his head into your neck. He placed delicate kisses on your soft, warm skin while whispering beautiful things in your ear. You felt so giddy, so happy, so in love.

“Princess”, he whispered softly, “Are you awake?”

You didn’t answer but smiled brightly instead. You found his hand placed on your bare stomach covering you with safety and affection. You stroked the soft skin, starting with the back of his hand and ending with his long fingers.

Memories of where those fingers had been last night flooded your consciousness and made you shudder. You felt him grin into the back of your neck.

“I guess you are awake. Good morning, baby.”

You didn’t want to turn around as you were afraid of realizing that this was nothing but a dream. Just another session of your imagination that brightened up your life.

You had sucked at dating all your life – always being tossed aside by the guys you fell for. After a while you were consumed with your fears which resulted in you giving up dating altogether.

“Not everybody is going to leave you. Not everybody is going to cheat on you. Not everybody is going to use you for sex. Not everybody will leave you for someone else. Not everybody is a fuckboy, Y/N!”

Your friend’s words were prominent in your mind for a long time; however, you decided you couldn’t take the risk. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t believe in the possibility of her words being true. Being convinced that no guy on this planet would ever want you – really want you –  was burned into the core of your whole being.

But what if an imaginary boy could?

You often daydreamed about him, just for fun. Imagining being with the one that truly loved you made you feel better, so you kind of turned your imagination into your own real world.

In here, everything was peachy. You had no idea how you did it but the most handsome guy on mother earth fell for you. He was tall, slim yet muscular and moved with vigor. He was in his early twenties, just like you. He had piercing dark eyes, a distinctive nose and full lips. His porcelain skin was flawless and perfectly accentuated by his long, black hair. Since you enjoyed him so much in your daydreams you even gave him a name – Sam.

Ever since inventing Sam nothing was the same for you. Hand-crafting the perfect man made you happy, seen and appreciated. You finally had the feeling that you were truly wanted for all that you were. Every day you spent lots of moments in your head imagining what it would be like to really date him.

After waking up you would place your arms around yourself and imagine it was him hugging you, wishing you a good morning.

While pouring black coffee into your favorite mug you imagined him standing next to you smiling brightly. “Here”, he handed you some sugar, “to make the coffee as sweet as you, y/n.”

During your daily walks you’d imagine him with you, holding your hand and stroking your thumb while chatting with you.

And at night, when you were left with your dirty thoughts and desperation, you imagined it were his lips on your clit sucking, instead of the pink sex toy you bought ages ago.

After a while your inner world felt so true to you, so real, that you actually felt like a different person. You were no longer y/n, single and desperately afraid of heartbreak, but y/n, happily partnered with the love of her life.

Naturally, you showed up different in the world. You had that glow, that aura, that only people who are fresh in love had to offer. You oozed confidence and fulfillment, no longer looking for someone to complete you.

Everybody noticed the change in you and approached you differently: your friends loved your sudden wholeness and congratulated you on being your best self, past lovers popped up and found their way into your DMs, begging for another chance as well as random strangers who asked you out on the street.

You rejected them all – in your head you were happily partnered to Sam. Your loyalty belonged to Sam.

Until one day you were out enjoying some pancakes when you were approached by a guy that resembled your imaginary boyfriend a bit too much.

“You might think I’m crazy and I probably am, but I couldn’t help myself. Ever since I saw you, I had to come and talk to you. It’s like.. I feel like I am magically drawn to you. I’m Hyunjin by the way.”

This was definitely odd, but you didn’t think he was crazy at all. You felt it, too. You shared an intimate connection even though you had never met. Being with Hyunjin felt natural, comfortable – as if you had been doing it all the time.

You forgot your fears about dating and heartbreak – in fact, they never made their comeback into your conscious mind. All you thought about was Hyunjin and how he made you feel.

Desired.

Loved.

Sexy.

Confident.

Wanted.

Appreciated.

Taken care of.

Safe.

His resemblance to Sam was almost frightening – they shared the same looks, mannerisms and characteristics. Sometimes you joked about dating your imaginary duplicate but deep down you knew it was far from comedy.

Your imaginary relationship started out as a relief, as a way to make you feel better about being lonely but somehow you managed to find a guy that was identical to your made-up boyfriend. You would have freaked out by now but luckily, he had another name, so you kept your trust in funny coincidences rather than magic.

“Princess”, Hyunjin’s kisses brought you back to actual reality. “I was thinking about taking a trip to the states to visit my relatives and friends from high school. Do you want to come with me? Say yes, please.”

You turned around cheerily. “You lived in the states?”

Relationships were a funny thing – you were fluent in Hyunjin’s body language and knew his deepest secrets, but random things like past high school exchanges were still foreign to you. He nodded while his fingers were caressing your face. “Yeah, for a couple of years I lived there. It was a crazy time, completely different to here.”

You leaned into his touch more. “Different how?”

“Well, the language for starters. The culture was way more open. I felt cooler in a way. Oh, and I even got another name since no American could pronounce Hyunjin without insulting my Korean ancestors.”

Your eyes shot up in panic. “Another name?”, you muttered. Hyunjin nodded unknowingly.

“Yeah, my English name is Sam. Why?”

[coddda]

Hiiiiiii. Episode 25/26 lawlight analysis rant thingy here. I don't know how to write an intro for this so let's just get to it LOL

I think one of the reasons that the rain/foot scenes stick out so much (the. Sheer insanity of a Foot Massage Scene in an anime revolving around two guys trying to kill each other aside 💀) is the fact that the anime specifically suffers a bit in terms of adapting a few of the "emotional" moments in death note.

And I don't mean "emotionally impactful" exactly. For example I think the adaptations of scenes like Raye and Naomi's deaths were very impactful and the atmospheres of their final scenes were great, but I mean more from a characterization standpoint (if that makes sense). Being more focused on mind and logic games, Death Note as a whole isn't as invested in individual characters' deeper feelings as it is in its action (which isn't necessarily a criticism per say, it's simply part of the nature of a mystery thriller series). But just because they're fewer and farther between doesn't mean there are none at all. In the manga we do get to see, for example, how much Light actually cared for his family and especially Sayu, and how he actually felt more conflicted and suffered lack of sleep/appetite when he first used the Death Note.

The anime specifically as an adaptation is pretty good at adapting the main mind fuckery and action of Death Note, but its lacking in properly adapting scenes like the ones I mentioned above is a criticism I see somewhat often, and it's pretty fair imo. Compared to all the other adaptations, it certainly seems to fall short on an emotional level: the musical has entire songs going in depth about the characters feelings and relationships, the 2015 jdrama is. Insane and has its emotional moments in spades (because it's a TV drama, which are more focused on portraying emotional conflict and the like), even the 2006 movies has its emotional beats and L Change the WorLd is. Well. Oh Man.

Anime Light to a lot of people is like. Light but he's "already evil" (which I have my own thoughts on but I digress). Light but after using the Death Note for like 2 minutes he's already like "fuck yeah time to kill criminals". Basically the anime doesn't take as much time to delve into his less cynical sides or really delve into his already vague and harder to decipher feelings in general, he is noticeably colder from the get-go here, etc.

But that's part of why I think episode 25 manages to stand out so much tonally (apart from it being, y'know, the episode L literally Dies). I love the episode so much and could probably rant for hours about how much I love the artistic choices made in it but what I'm trying to get at here is that it's one of the very few moments where the show tries to go deeper into specific character's emotions, and one of the very few moments where the show Attempts (emphasis on "attempts" because, well, you'll see in a bit) to get more in-depth into Light's feelings apart from his cynicism/apathy/justice. ness.

L in these two scenes in episode 25 is, well, pretty damn open about how he feels. It's usually interpreted as him knowing that he's going to die, and you can see it. He visibly looks/sounds lost, somber, etc. He never really had much to hide around Light to begin with (since he doesn't really care about hiding himself the same way Light does) but especially not now and it Shows, and I personally thought it was pretty cool to delve into his thoughts/show how he feels this way. The somberness can be felt throughout the entire scene, even people who don't already know the plot of Death Note from the manga could probably tell that he's about to die.

In the manga, once L starts suspecting Misa again and Rem realizes what Light is trying to do, it goes straight to Watari and L's deaths, but the anime instead gives a distinct and unexpected pause in the middle of this where L contemplates his own death. It's fucking great, and the shift from straight action to slower emotional weight makes these scenes stand out a lot, since, like I said, the show usually focuses more on the former. But it's kind of ironic, too.

Not only does the anime open up L's feelings more in these scenes, but it also tries to dig deeper into Light's feelings as well through L. And it's really funny honestly because while, yes, these are the more "emotionally open" scenes of the anime Light still manages to be Incredibly avoidant and contribute almost nothing to the entire ordeal.

L is visibly upset -> "Yeah Ryuzaki, you're not making any sense at all" (Not addressing the obvious conflict from L)

"Tell me, Light. From the moment you were born, has there ever been a point where you've actually told the truth?" -> "[The most stale, over-explained, avoidant answer to a "yes/no" question that you could ever hear + blatant attempts to reframe the question]"

(L's half-smile here kills me) "I had a feeling you'd say something like that" -> [Nothing]

"I'm sorry" -> [Nothing]

"It'll be lonely won't it? You and I will be parting ways soon" -> [Nothing]

^ From this point Light continues to say literally Nothing for the rest of the scene. I'm not even joking, from then on the rest of Light's voicelines are reduced to nothing but vague noises of confusion.

Everytime L calls Light out as a person ("Has there ever been a point where you've actually told the truth?" / "I had a feeling you'd say something like that." / "Won't it be lonely?") he doesn't actually acknowledge anything. Out of those three lines, he only answers verbally to if he's ever told the truth, and even then it's the most blatantly people-pleasing answer ever, as it usually is with Light. And I don't think it's because Light just. Doesn't care about any of what L's saying at all, or that he doesn't know what the hell he's talking about (questioning Light's authenticity as a person, saying it would be lonely when they part), instead he's choosing not to acknowledge any of what this means about himself or him and L at all. He's like a fucking wall.

And like, for the truth question in particular, the show makes sure that you know it's not something that Light just. Doesn't care enough about to answer. The hard cuts to silence are a very rare but extremely effective way that the show conveys an extremely important moment (see: Light regaining his memories, Matsuda noticing Light opening the warehouse door before he escapes (not as much of a "direct" cut to silence but still)), and cuts to multiple angles/framings/zooms of the exact same shot are also used for the same purpose (see: Light hugging Misa when she was crying, Matsuda aiming his gun to shoot Light, Light regaining his memories Again). Just like the scene where Light gets his memories back, the moment L's question finishes the show utilizes both. That question cut Deep. There's is a solid Almost 5 seconds of silence before the sound of the rain gradually starts fading back in, and honestly that should be telling enough as is (but of course Light doesn't actually admit that. Or anything at all really, so). Oh also another fun detail! We do not see Light's face At All (except for the shot where you can see his mouth moving but not his eyes), for the Entire time that he's going on his spiel to L. We Will Be Revisiting This Later, by the way. This is not, in fact, the first time you're going to see this detail from Light.

The only sort of reciprocation that we see from Light during Any of these two scenes is when Light dries L's hair while L dries his feet. Biblical meanings/references aside it's interesting because it's the only time he directly does anything "for" L in these scenes, but even then he doesn't try to pass it off as anything meaningful really the same way L does ("You're still soaked", a purely neutral and factual statement. It doesn't Add Anything compared to L's. Sin atonement loneliness grieving stuff. While Light is showing his own reciprocation to this more personal moment he also tries to keep it impersonal enough that it doesn't actually have to mean anything deep). And when L says "I'm sorry" after he once again gets no response from Light. It's also after this that L gets that pained look on his face, like he knows that at this point he's not actually going to get anything meaningful from Light (again, very significant and rare from L in the show. We've seen him in distress (see: when Ukita died, hell, when Watari dies), but even then he mostly manages to keep his usually neutral expression), we never see him "look sad" like he does here):

I just think it's interesting that this is one of the few scenes in this particular adaptation of Death Note where they try to open up the character's thoughts/feeling (especially considering the fact that they. lowkey blunder in adaptations of original scenes from the manga), and L himself is being rather open (not that he ever really tries to hide what he thinks nearly as much as Light), and yet all Light contributes to it in return is like. Actually nothing. Bro fumbled it. There is no resolution to any of this, to any of what L asks at all, to any of the many opportunities for a meaningful conversation, and the only thing even relatively close to an answer that you can get from Light is what you can infer from how he acts in the episode after L dies, where he's just going through the motions, but hardly acting as if he's actually living at all.

(Honestly I think the transition from this scene with the taskforce to the subsequent scene with Misa says enough on its own. Light's expressions and tone says everything:)

(Oh sidenote but. This shit again:

"Light, this is our first date in forever. can't you enjoy yourself a little more?" ('Why don't you seem happy? We can finally be together since L is dead') -> No response, Light instead changing the topic to him wanting to move in with Misa without changing his mannerisms at all

Also there's that one detail again. You pretty much don't see Light's expression when he speaks here at all, except for one shot of his eyes, which is quite literally the exact same shot they used when he "saw" L, just altered for the new setting. You have No idea what he looks like when he's responding to Misa, although it's probably fair to assume that it's the same empty stare he has for the whole Two Shots where you can clearly see his whole expression in the entire scene.

Something something Light Yagami bad at feelings I think you get the point though)

I guess Light's Kind of showing what he's feeling now? He'll admit to himself that it's boring without L, but no more than that. Light never actually admits to anything "significant", and L's dead already anyway, so what would that even do?

And then we get, uh. Basically nothing from Light. For the next 5 Years. Except that he joined the NPA, so, uh, yay? Good job, Light you totally nailed it! Thank you for allowing us as an audience to delve deeper into your inner thoughts and feelings as a character so we can find out more about you as a person! Very helpful! Thank you for not sabotaging one of your few dedicated opportunities to look into yourself as a person and reflect on your relationships with others and being 100% honest with yourself! We stay winning guys.

Anyway, this got way too long for a scene that's over a decade old, and I've probably just said everything that everyone else has already said in this fandom before. But unfortunately this has been living in my head for way too long and I must scream. I just think this episode's neat is all :)

tl;dr Part of the reason why the rain/foot scene (tbh episode 25 in General) stands out so much is because the Death Note anime specifically was a bit robbed in terms of its more emotional character moments compared to the other medias, which makes more somber/introspective scenes like the ones in episode 25 stand out a Lot in comparison. But it's also incredibly ironic because it's one of the few moments where the show (or specifically L) tries to look deeper into Light's character, but because he is so avoidant for the entire duration of these two scenes he adds basically nothing at all. It's almost funny. Mostly sad. It's also very gay. Aand post

Okay actually nevermind one more thing I talked about how the jdrama is supposed to be more emotionally in-depth because it is a TV Drama and just for the record, same thing happens there! I could probably do an entire analysis of the Blue Scene in this context like I did with episode 25 but I'd literally be here forever, so uh, just take this iconic line as my main example:

Same Thing. L's statement "I wish we could have met some other way" is personal. It's his own wish, his own regret that he is expressing to Light. While Light's reply obviously has that same regret implied it's also phrased in a specifically impersonal way. It's closed off. "This is the only way we could have met" it closes off the topic and simply renders L's wish as ultimately futile. Light does not say that he Also wishes he could have met L a different way even if it was likely impossible, instead it's a cold statement of cynical fact.

Idk just. Something something L being able and Willing to be more openly sentimental/emotionally open towards Light/about Light vs. Light's inability to be honest with anyone including himself and his own nature preventing any form of meaningful reciprocation. Something something self-sabotage, y'know the drill. God don't even get me Started on how sincere L's tone is when he says "It'll be lonely won't it?"(at least in the eng dub) in the anime I could talk about his tone in that scene for ages. Also yes all of this relates to L Change the WorLd too by the way. Don't ask how it just does okay.

I do think that scenes like these (rain/foot scene, The Blue Scene. Uh. L Change the WorLd The Novel Adaptation) show, at least in those adaptations, that L does genuinely care for Light, and show that he values him as a friend not just in the mindgame-equal sense but also just like, a more sincere sense you know. Idk if that made any sense and that's a whole other topic for another day but you guys just have to believe me on this one alright please please believe me buries head in hands. Okay post over finally thanks for coming to my tedtalk hope you enjoyed my very-unnecessarily long analysis of the week

[p1utofairy]

PICK A CARD

“kissin’ and hope they caught us.”

what will a night out with your future partner be like?

disclaimer ✩: 18+ mature themes. take what resonates, leave what doesn't. this is my early thanksgiving gift to y’all 💗 i’m so thankful for the constant support and feedback idk how many times i can say it lol but thank you. enjoy and have a great holiday!

PILE i.

i can see you two in a club/party setting. the music is so loud it's pulsing through your veins, it's not usually your scene, but your person is right by your side holding you close. their hand is resting slightly on your back/waist guiding you through the crowd — i feel like they'll smell really good too they have a distinct fragrance on that's comforting to you. i feel like you'll be so giddy and excited to be outside with them and be seen together. lots of heads will turn for sure. i feel like y'all are a power couple…like looking at you two walking in together just makes sense but it also triggers jealousy and disbelief in other people? you and your person may come from different backgrounds or have different aesthetics but y’all pair together very well. they’re gonna be looking so smug lollll your person is the silent but confident type, like having you on their arm will shut everybody up and they’ll love it. this person could be very popular or well-known in their profession…i'm getting a serena van der woodsen type of vibe so people can definitely be infatuated with them. you might not even like dancing but you will with them! you're gonna be on cloud 9 the whole night, pile 1. some of you might not smoke or drink but you’ll feel high/drunk off them the entire night it’s so cute! u are my high by dj snake and future vibes for sure.

PILE ii.

the atmosphere is sensual af, pile 2. it's giving the vibe of a private dinner at an upscale restaurant/bar or hotel. your person planned this out very meticulously, and they managed to pull it off without you knowing too many details. you’ll be so happy to be sitting across from them and enjoying their company — i feel like you both don't always have the time to just sit and unwind because you both have very demanding jobs/schedules. i see you two flirting a lot with your eyes and smiling so big…the energy is very warm and playful. the sexual tension will be very thick between the two of you lol they might make comments throughout the night about how good you look. the lighting seems very dim and red seems to be the major theme so you could be wearing a red dress, they might give you a bouquet of red roses, their shirt might be red — idk it's something along those lines lol the color red is just significant for some reason. the food, their company, and the ambiance will be 100000/10 and the night won't stop there 😮‍💨 cause when they get you back home? soon as i get home by faith evans just came to mind LOL yeah they’re going to want to make up for lost time and please you in any and every way that they can. OKAYYY PILE 222.

PILE iii.

ah this is my introverted pile! i don't think you get out much, pile 3. if you do it's usually because someone begged you to come out and socialize or you pushed yourself to go. you like having your own space and privacy, and sometimes it's a bit overwhelming having to constantly socialize and be around a whole bunch of people that may not mesh with you. i think that your person will be receptive to this, and will take baby steps to get you out of your shell. they’d take you somewhere where you can relax and be comfortable like a drive-in movie theater or maybe somewhere in nature…it's somewhere you both can be alone and in your own bubble tuning out the rest of the world. i can see them holding you close and you’re leaned back against them just so content and reveling in the precious moment. it’s a night you’ll never forget because you’ll realize just how much they mean to you, and how far you’ve come in this connection. it's reminding me of that picture of ariana grande and mac miller at coachella. so so cute.

PILE IV.

y'all are that cute couple that ride for each other, okay!!! y'all will be so in loveeeeeee my GOSH the passion and desire will be so heavy and evident between you two. lana and asap rocky in the ‘national anthem’ music video vibes — it's like that bad boy meets good girl trope. i feel like this person would want to take you places you’ve never been before…they’d want to get all dressed up in fancy clothes and go out on the town with you. there'd be multiple activities in one night. omg they're so spontaneous it'd feel never-ending! you two will be so giddy around each other lol always cracking jokes and laughing about any and everything. i don’t think that it matters where they take you per se, pile 4. you will have the time of your life regardless. they just know how to light up every room that they walk in and ensure that everyone is having a good time! it's so cute and refreshing, ugh. they're going to really sweep you off your feet. they might have a really nice car and you’ll love being a ✨passenger princess✨ LMFAO they might tease you about it too. this person will be your best friend just as much as they are your true love.

[paymechildsupport]

'Familial Matters' // Satoru Gojo x M!Husband!Reader

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-!! Hints of homophobia (meeting his family / clan) Just some fluff for my blue-eyed king <3

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Marrying 'The Strongest' certainly had its perks, but it definitley wasn't all easy-going, -- and his clan sure didn't make it easy.

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--------☄*. ⋆❥°: ❀˚ ♡˳--

Satoru loves you with his whole heart, his darling husband. You just recently married (congrats!), having been won over by the albino's boyish charms and, quick frankly, corny love confessions. Satoru had a very.... distinct way to show his affections for you. But, the man had a whimsical, childlike joy to himself that you couldn't find anywhere else, -- and you loved him for it. So, when he popped the question almost two years into dating, you were fairly quick to yell a resounding 'yes!'.

----☄*. ⋆❥°: ❀˚ ♡˳-- ------ --- ･:*:･ﾟ☆

Satoru warned you from the get-go, from the very start of when you two dated, that his clan definitley knew how to make things... difficult for him. As pretty much the sole provider of the clan's prestige, it was easy to see why they'd be so reluctant to let him go. The old geezers had their nobly, boney fingers around him like a vice. And so when Gojo all of a sudden brings you around, a not-so-strong (but also not terrible- though that didn't really cut it obviously) sorcerer from a humble family, there was almost a fatality on site when they learned he had proposed to you. No way were the Gojos suppose to welcome in some uncultured peasant into their prestigious palace, allow their golden blue-eyed king to sully his reputation with you--, was he crazy?

But Satoru made it abundantly clear that his love for you was non-negotiable, so the old heads of the clan could go suck it. He wouldn't allow crap from anyone, especially not regarding you.

In fact, Satoru was reluctant to introduce you to his family at all, dreading what it could possibly mean for the two of you, and delayed any confrontation for as long as possible. But, alas, he'd have to grow a pair at some point, -- and with a tiny bit of a scolding from you, -- he put on his big boy pants and realized they needed him a lot more than he needed them. The Gojo clan was alive, definitely, but it essentially held no power in the world of jujutsu without the Six-Eyes, -- so his clan was just gonna have to put up with both of you, or neither of you. And, coming to the same conclusion as Satoru, they realized they really had no say in the matter. Satoru would defend you against his 'family' until his last dying breath

So they were left to simply shake their fists at the sky and damn whatever higher power that had given them such a lovesick heartthrob for the Six-Eyes, and reluctantly welcome you into their life of riches.

----☄*. ⋆❥°: ❀˚ ♡˳-- ------ --- ･:*:･ﾟ☆

Your first meeting with them was at the traditional pre-wedding dinner, where both families from the union got together and got cozy for the future years of kinship.

It was tense, to put it lightly.

You didn't miss the disapproving gazes, especially the particularly nasty ones from the more elderly clansmen.

The fact that you were also a man didn't bode well for them. Same sex relationships were heavily frowned upon, and they no doubt worried about how this would affect the clan's reputation, for 'condoning' this kind of behavior. Satoru didn't give a damn, though. Who was gonna stop him-- no, scratch that, -- who could stop him? He was the strongest after all, the Honoured One, he could do whatever the hell he wanted, and if that meant literally bending the law to make a legal union between him and the man of his dreams, so be it. Satoru Gojo was above the law.

Some of his younger, more open clan members grew quite fond of you, actually. Who wouldn't? You were such a lovely person, afterall, -- your dazzling personality and just inherent charm won them over almost instantly. You eventually started to grow on some of the older members as well, -- maybe you were just born to charm all the Gojos. When Satoru needed to visit his clan, he'd often leave you with their company, and this was where you'd be filled in on all the clan's juicy drama and private life behind closed doors, - usually over a tea. You made sure to ally yourself with the gossipers of the clan.

----☄*. ⋆❥°: ❀˚ ♡˳-- ------ --- ･:*:･ﾟ☆

Whenever Satoru had to take care of some family... "business", he'd always bring you along with him , -- both for his own sanity and to cure his crippling loneliness, -- he needed you there to soothe him everytime he got into another petulant fight with his family. He needed you there for emotional support, if he was gonna have to put up with entitled, whiney clan members for days on end he needed you to come back to.

He'd lay his head in your lap as you gently combed your fingers through his fine, white hair, sitting under the sakura blossoms in one of the Gojo Estate's many, many lush gardens. His already major head ache from his Six-Eyes magnified momentously by the clan's nagging. He keeps infinity on at all times in the estate, -- only lowering it around you. He'd rant on and on about whatever audacious demand the elders made from him, simultaneously reveling in the way you threaded your fingers through his hair, calming most of his frustration just by your soft touch. Often times you'd just gossip, shit talking was just so fun when it was about those pompous assholes.

----☄*. ⋆❥°: ❀˚ ♡˳-- ------ --- ･:*:･ﾟ☆

Sometimes you could very much see crystal clear where some of the influence rubbed off on Satoru: that arrogance, the slight god-complex, even if it was played off as more of a bit. You usually wouldn't tell him that to his face though, knowing how it would trigger some insecurity within Satoru. He held a genuine disdain towards a majority of the clan's elitist and, sometimes, downright discriminatory rhetoric, desperately distancing himself from those kinds of messages, -- maybe not noticeably. You knew it would crush him, inflicting that kind of insecurity and self-doubt really wasn't your goal. Yet, you did remind him every so often when he took things maybe a wee bit too far, when he got just a little bit too big for his britches, you were the one to bring him back down.

What you didn't hold back on was teasing him about his baby pictures. It was almost comical, seeing how the playful, boyish Satoru you knew now started from such a serious, condescending toddler. It was kinda creepy, and you definitely got a kick from photos of him as a baby, alone in his crib in the middle of the night, eerie, freakishly blue eyes literally illuminating the otherwise dark room, like two bright blue flashlights were embedded into his sockets. It was always fun seeing how embarrassed and red he'd get, how quick his smug demeanor would shatter every time you'd manage to score another adorable baby photo on your phone, saving it as your lockscreen.

----☄*. ⋆❥°: ❀˚ ♡˳-- ------ --- ･:*:･ﾟ☆

Bottom line: he loves you, like a lot a lot, -- and nothing that his old, pestering clan says could ever change that. he promised from day one he'd protect you from any and all danger, including that of his family. He won't take shit from them, and he especially won't take any insensitive comments about his lovely husband, either.

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[A/N]: Gonna make a part 2 but with stepfather!reader, -- if Satoru had a kid / heir prior, and now you've become a step-father to a mini-Satoru, -- only this one is much, much worse than the original, if that's even possible

[perfectlyoongi]

JEALOUS!JIN who just smiles when you introduce him to a new friend. another friend. another person you share stories with. another person with whom you share laughter and promises. another friend to you, but another splinter in Jin’s heart. you didn’t need to introduced your friend in person, you could just mention their name or show a photo of when you hung out. it didn’t matter how. what mattered was that the smile on their faces and the sparkle in their eyes was enough to leave Jin feeling empty, feeling helpless, feeling not important. “he seems like an incredible person. how did you meet him? oh, at that party i couldn’t go to? well, glad i didn’t go then, right?”

JEALOUS!JIN who screams inside every time you share an interest of the two of you with others. you and Jin played mario kart together every saturday night — why did you spend wednesday afternoon playing with someone else? you and Jin would improvise cake recipes when one of you was feeling sad — why did you share the recipe he came up with last week? you and Jin created your own world a long time ago — why did you also need to share it with others? wasn’t Jin enough? “i thought that café on the way out of town was our own place. no, no. no problem. they can come with us one of these days, i don’t mind.”

JEALOUS!JIN who moves away from you when he sees you with others. why continue in that improvised circle listening to you constantly talking to that one? why stay by your side, if you had already turned your back slightly? why stay there? seeing you cherish people who weren’t him? you were happy, of course you were. you loved giving some of your happiness to make others happy. you were beaming, of course you were. you shone with all the stars in the universe whenever there was an opportunity to create a new bond. so why would Jin dye your colors with his darkness? “i need to go to the bathroom, i’ll be right back. don’t wait for me, you can go ahead. they are waiting for you. i’ll be fine, i won’t be long.”

JEALOUS!JIN who imagines himself by your side at parties. but that didn’t stop Jin from admiring you. leaning in a corner, away from people and confusion, Jin saw you winning over an entire audience. whether you do it on purpose or you don’t even realize you do it, the truth is that your nature, so pure, so beautiful, so distinct, was enough to captivate anyone. and it was a dream to be in your presence, an ambition few achieved. Jin could only see himself by your side, smiling at your words, giving you all the laughs, being himself and being enough.

JEALOUS!JIN who sends you random messages so you don’t forget him. Jin’s messages weren’t always direct: sometimes, he would remind you of your appointment that you couldn’t miss; other times, he’d just tell you another dad joke that left you pondering if you really wanted a friendship with him; other times, he would send you reminders, small words that tried to express the universe that existed within him in two mere lines. “you found a side of me that i didn’t know existed. and you took care of it and made it grow up to love you. and i love you.”

JEALOUS!JIN who asks you what he means to you. and when those reminders stopped producing reassurance, when Jin’s words just floated gently on the sea of your love with no chance of sinking into your devotion, Jin spoke. it was too painful to continue living that way, totally impossible to walk in limbo between wanting and suffering. and when he lost his balance, when he caught a glimpse of suffering, Jin knew he didn’t want to live it. and that’s why he told you. “i think i’m jealous of you. i don’t know how to explain it but i feel like my presence becomes insignificant when there are more people with us. i’m not saying you do it on purpose. nor that you have to stop having friends because of me. i just wanted to tell you how i feel. because when i say i love you, i really love you.”

JEALOUS!JIN who actually smiles when you kiss his cheek. you didn’t need to say anything to calm Jin’s heart. all you had to do was smile — smile wider than you smiled with others. all you had to do was look at him—brighter eyes than you had with the others. all you had to do was get closer to Jin’s face, gently brush your nose against his and give him a small, shy, heartfelt kiss on his cheek — the only kiss you’ve given anyone.

[writingxfootballl]

i wanna be the one (that makes your day) (jessie fleming x ucla!reader)

the part two to i'll be your biggest fan (and you'll be mine)

word count: 1407 ish

rating: F for fluffy

title- best friend by rex orange county

a/n: again, unedited. part of my fic dump. not guaranteed spelling errors and plot hole free

----

it’s been exactly one month since you left california for oxford.

and in that month, you’ve felt the full weight of the transition.

the chill of the english weather, the constant rush of new information, and the distinct absence of a certain messy-haired canadian soccer player.

you’d been so determined to focus on your studies, on the prestigious rhodes scholarship that had brought you here, that the thought of jessie—of her—had taken a backseat.

but that didn’t mean she was far from your mind. because she wasn’t.

she never really was.

it’s just that, here, in oxford, it felt… different.

the landscape was so vast, so old, the buildings so steeped in history. everything felt so distant, so foreign.

it wasn’t the kind of place where a casual coffee date or library study sessions felt possible.

but that didn’t stop you from wondering if you might see her again.

and then, one crisp morning, while you were walking across radcliffe square, there she was.

jessie fleming, on a freaking london bus, looking effortlessly beautiful in a puffer jacket and jeans.

you freeze in place, breath hitching, your heart skipping.

you hadn’t expected to see her in england, let alone in oxford, and definitely not in this exact moment.

the last time you saw her, she was standing on the bleachers in sunny california, asking you out on a date.

you had kissed her. it was perfect.

and then she had flown back to london for her training with chelsea.

you still have the little text you sent her: "thinking of you. hope practice is going well. "

it was cute. she replied with something equally sweet.

and then you both agreed that you’d keep in touch.

you hadn’t realized how much you'd missed her until this very moment.

you panic for a second, unsure what to do.

should you wave?

run over?

act cool and pretend you weren’t feeling a little lightheaded?

before you can decide, jessie’s eyes meet yours.

they soften immediately, her lips curling into that familiar smile, and just like that, you’re moving without thinking.

she’s already walking toward you, her boots tapping along the stone path, her hands shoved deep into her pockets.

“hey, y/n,” she says, her voice warm.

“fancy seeing you here.”

your heart swells.

“jessie! what—what are you doing here?”

“i think that’s my question for you,” she teases, stopping in front of you.

“i was just in london for training and thought i’d visit oxford for a bit. nice to see you’ve finally joined the world of us english folk.”

you laugh, trying to mask the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“i didn’t know you’d be here. i’m just, you know, studying. trying to become a fancy oxford student or whatever.”

“fancy, huh?”

jessie quirks an eyebrow.

“you look more like you belong in california than in england.”

“yeah, well, i don’t know if i’ll ever get used to the rain. or the weather, for that matter,” you say with a small, self-deprecating chuckle.

“i like it,” she shrugs, grinning.

“it’s cozy. but maybe that’s because i grew up with it.”

“right,” you mutter, glancing down at your boots and feeling suddenly nervous again.

“so what’s the plan? are you here for long?”

“nah, just a couple of days,” she says, looking around with interest.

“but i could always stay longer. what about you? got any plans for the day?”

you hesitate, thoughts running wild. “um, not really. just… studying. you know, the usual.”

jessie smiles knowingly, and before you can blink, she’s offering her arm to you.

“well, if you’re not doing anything, you want to come grab a coffee with me?”

you try to keep your cool.

“a coffee?” you repeat, almost disbelieving.

“as in, just us? hanging out?”

jessie tilts her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “yeah, just us. no big deal.”

you’re pretty sure your heart is about to burst out of your chest, but you manage to nod, trying to hide the giddiness creeping up.

“sure, i’d love to.”

and so, the two of you stroll through the cobbled streets of oxford, coffee cups in hand, casually talking about everything and nothing.

the conversation flows effortlessly, like you’ve known each other for years, like time and space hadn’t really interrupted your connection.

“so how’s chelsea?” you ask, as you both take a seat on one of the benches overlooking the river.

“it’s been great,” she replies, looking genuinely happy.

“lots of training, a few matches here and there. and you? how’s oxford? is it everything you thought it’d be?”

you think for a moment.

“yeah. and no. i mean, it’s exactly what i expected academically, but i didn’t know how lonely it would feel sometimes. like, everyone’s so driven, and it’s kind of… overwhelming.”

jessie nods, her gaze softening.

“i get that. being away from home is hard, but you’re doing it, right? you’ve got this.”

you smile, warmed by her words.

“thanks, jessie. i appreciate that.”

“of course,” she replies, her voice gentle.

“besides, we’ve both got big things going on, right? you with the rhodes, me with the team... we’re kind of a power couple, if you think about it.”

you laugh, the sound coming out more nervous than you intend.

“power couple? is that what we are?”

jessie’s grin widens.

“why not?”

and for the rest of the afternoon, you both walk around oxford, talking about life, about what you miss, about your plans for the future.

the conversation flows with ease, like you’ve always been in each other’s orbit, like nothing has really changed.

by the time the sun begins to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and purple, jessie turns to you, her smile softening.

“i’m really glad we’re doing this,” she says quietly. “i’ve missed you.”

you swallow hard, your chest tightening.

“i’ve missed you too.”

“i mean it,” she continues.

“i know we’re both busy, and i know this whole long-distance thing isn’t easy, but... i want to see you more. when you’re free, come to london. i’ll show you around.”

the warmth in her words melts you completely.

“i’d love that,” you whisper. “i’d really love that.”

“good,” she says with a wink.

“because i’ve already got a few ideas for our next date.”

you laugh, your heart fluttering.

“a date, huh?”

jessie shrugs, looking casually cool.

“we did kind of kiss last time i checked, so i think it counts.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re grinning.

“you’re impossible, you know that?”

“yeah, i know,” she says with a laugh. “but you like me anyway.”

you shake your head, a playful smile on your lips.

“don’t get too cocky.”

“i’ll try,” she says, her eyes twinkling.

the sun dips below the horizon, and the night air grows cooler, but there’s something incredibly comforting about sitting here with jessie, knowing that the two of you have this connection that just keeps growing stronger.

~~

over the next few weeks, you and jessie stay in touch.

the long-distance thing isn’t easy, but it’s working.

you FaceTime when you can, send each other little messages of encouragement.

she’s training for her upcoming season with chelsea, and you’re buried in your studies, but the moments you do find to talk are the highlights of your day.

it’s strange, though, to think about how your life has shifted since that first meeting in the library back at ucla.

you’ve come so far, both of you, and yet somehow, despite the distance, you still feel that pull to her.

that connection you can’t quite explain, but you know is real.

jessie visits oxford a few more times, and each time feels like a new chapter in your relationship.

you go out for coffee, explore the city, and sneak in quiet moments in between your busy schedules.

with each visit, your feelings for her grow stronger, and you begin to wonder if this could really work—this thing between you two, despite everything.

one night, after a long week of work, you find yourself at your desk, scrolling through your messages when you see a new one from jessie.

"thinking about you. when’s the next time i get to see you? "

your heart skips.

you reply quickly: "soon. i’ll make it happen. i miss you."

she responds almost instantly: "me too. see you soon, love."

you grin, your heart swelling.

this? this was just the beginning.

[thedensworld]

Doesn't Mind At All | Hong Joshua

Pairing: Secretary!Joshua x Baker!Reader (Ft. Boss!Junhui and Brother!Mingyu)

Genre: Romance, fluff, longtime crushing

Summary: Hong Joshua willingly agrees to pick up his boss's daughter from school, not realizing that this simple task would lead to an unexpected encounter with his longtime crush.

In the bustling halls of the company, Joshua was a familiar face. His presence was like a ray of sunshine, brightening up the office with his infectious smile and angelic personality. It was no secret that he held a special place in the hearts of many, having won the coveted title of "Best Office Crush" the previous year, even surpassing the CEO, Moon Junhui.

Joshua wore this badge with a quiet pride, knowing full well that his boss's concerns mainly revolved around the company's products and reputation. As he marked his sixth year as Junhui's faithful secretary and personal assistant, he couldn't help but marvel at the milestone. It was a record that stood unchallenged, a testament to Joshua's unwavering dedication.

Nobody understood Junhui quite like Joshua did, save for perhaps Junhui's own wife. When it came to the intricacies of Junhui's professional mindset, it was said that only Hong Joshua had the finesse to meet and exceed the exacting expectations. This was precisely why Joshua was regarded as the company's most precious gem.

Behind every successful CEO, there was an exceptional secretary, and for Moon Junhui, that shining star was none other than Joshua. Their dynamic was like a well-choreographed dance, a seamless blend of professionalism and camaraderie. They were the dynamic duo, the unsung heroes of the corporate world.

Joshua was renowned for his quick wit, tireless work ethic, and a personality that could charm even the most hardened hearts. His reputation had earned him a multitude of labels, particularly among the female officers, who couldn't help but marvel at the creation of such a seemingly perfect human being. Despite his friendly demeanor, Joshua was adept at setting clear boundaries, creating a distinct line and an almost impermeable wall when it came to romantic interests – a trait that some of the women officers considered to be his only flaw.

Approaching a group of women engrossed in a discussion (or rather, gossiping) about him, Joshua balanced a pack of coffee cups in his hands. With a gracious smile, he handed them out, congratulating them on the success of their recent event two days prior. "You're an angel, Mr. Hong," one of them swooned, to which Joshua graciously thanked her.

Another voice chimed in, "Mr. Hong, may we ask you a few questions? We've been discussing something about you, and it would be wonderful if you could satisfy our curiosity." Joshua settled into a seat, joining their circle. "And here I thought you guys were deep into discussions about our ramyeon drama project," he teased, eliciting chuckles from the others.

"We're actually really-really-really eager to know if you're single or taken," one of them blurted out, while another followed up with, "we've been speculating, and we have absolutely no idea!" Joshua's face reddened in response to the question, and he couldn't help but cover his face in playful embarrassment. What had he done to warrant such a query? Was he unintentionally giving off some sort of signal? The thought left him chuckling and slightly flustered, a rare sight for the usually unflappable secretary.

"Yeah! Absolutely. You gave us this. Yesterday you sent an email of appreciation to our rookie without her knowing that everyone received that as well and has been thinking that you like her. You've been committing a crime, Mr. Hong."

Joshua's brow furrowed as he listened to the explanation. "I can't do that?" he asked them, and they all simultaneously nodded in agreement. "Why?" he inquired once more, prompting a collective groan of exasperation from the women.

"You've been lavishing affection on the women in our company, the kind they haven't received from anyone else, all while displaying a sign that you have zero interest in dating any of them. That's just not right, Mr. Hong."

Joshua nodded, absorbing their words. "I'm sorry?" he offered, glancing down at the cups of coffee he had just handed out. "Should I take these back?" he gestured towards the beverages.

"Just stop sending affectionate emails and notes like this. At the very least, delete the heart emoticon," one of them instructed, holding up a note that Joshua had written, no doubt adorned with an affectionate flourish.

'Good job for the event guys! So proud of you🤍.'

"That's just a habit of mine! I'm sorry, I'll definitely work on that," Joshua offered, his voice carrying a hint of remorse as he mumbled his apologies.

"So, Mr. Hong. Are you single or taken?" inquired one of them. Joshua's smile widened as he answered, "I'm single."

To his surprise, this response was met with another collective groan from the group, leaving Joshua thoroughly perplexed. "Why? Did I answer it wrong? I'm not quite getting it," he admitted, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"You should never answer that kind of question with that kind of smile," one of them advised. Joshua nodded and hummed in understanding, contemplating whether he should spend more time observing and learning from this group of women. It seemed they held the key to deciphering the intricacies of office dynamics.

"Why are you single? I can't imagine it would be hard for someone with such an amazing face and personality to find a significant other," one of them remarked, their words laden with genuine admiration.

Joshua closed his eyes, momentarily overwhelmed by the shower of compliments. He joked that if they continued, he might just consider joining their group.

"I work really hard for the company, and I find it hard to make time for dating," Joshua explained, giving voice to their curiosity. "While I do find some women attractive, it's just that I struggle to strike a balance between my professional and personal life."

"Is there anyone you have in mind, perhaps?" another one queried.

As the seconds ticked by, a portrait of someone from his past suddenly emerged in Joshua's mind. He nodded slowly, acknowledging that there was indeed someone he had in mind. "Ah, my university crush," he quipped, breaking into laughter.

*

Joshua's gaze never wavered from his computer screen, immersed in the tasks that lay before him. The soft tap of approaching footsteps disrupted his concentration, and he turned to see his boss, Moon Junhui, standing beside him. Without hesitation, Joshua rose from his chair, a show of respect for the man who held a significant place in his professional life.

"I'm so sorry, but can you do me a favor?" Junhui's tone held a touch of urgency, a request layered with a sense of trust that Joshua had earned over the years.

"What time is my meeting next?" Junhui inquired, his focus on the packed schedule that dictated his day.

"At 2 PM, sir," Joshua replied promptly, the words rolling off his tongue with a practiced ease. He prided himself on his meticulous attention to detail, especially when it came to Junhui's demanding schedule.

Junhui nodded in acknowledgment, his mind already processing the logistics of the day ahead. Then, his expression softened, and he confided in Joshua, "My daughter, her school is off at 3 PM. I promised my wife to take her with me since her nanny is having her days off. I worry if I'm still in the middle of a meeting at that time." said Junhui about his 5 years old daughter.

Joshua's bond with Hara had grown into a heartwarming routine. It was a familiar sight for the office staff to see Joshua and Hara immersed in various activities. The young girl's intellect and remarkable patience made her a delightful companion, a rare gem in her tender years. Whenever Junhui found himself entangled in meetings, Joshua gladly stepped in to keep Hara company. They'd sit together at Joshua's desk, engrossed in creating art, crafting intricate bracelets, or simply sharing stories of Hara's adventures.

"I can pick her up, sir," Joshua proposed, eager to assist his boss and provide a helping hand.

Junhui's eyes reflected gratitude, a sigh of relief escaping him. "Thank you so much," he expressed, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily eased by Joshua's kind gesture.

"My wife is not feeling very well this morning, that's why I didn't want to trouble her. Thank you so much, Mr. Hong," Junhui reiterated, his appreciation genuine and heartfelt.

As the day approached for Joshua to pick up Hara from school, a mixture of excitement and nerves fluttered within him. This was uncharted territory for him, the first time he'd take on the responsibility of fetching a child from school. Determined to ensure everything went smoothly, he turned to the internet for guidance. His search yielded a concise list of tips, each one etching itself into his mind:

1. Make sure the school knows who you are and that the child is aware and comfortable with your presence.

2. Prioritize the child's comfort and well-being throughout the process.

3. While not obligatory, a snack can often be a reassuring gesture.

4. Engage the child in conversation about their day on the journey home.

With this newfound knowledge, Joshua prepared himself meticulously. He reached out to the teacher, providing them with his contact details and informing them of the situation. He wanted every precaution in place to ensure a smooth transition.

As the hour approached, he found himself behind the wheel, heading towards the school with a sense of determination. The address provided by Junhui led him to the school's gates, where he joined the gathering of parents. Amongst the mothers, Joshua stood.

Time seemed to stretch as he waited, the anticipation building with each passing minute. Finally, the school bell rang, heralding the end of the day. Joshua's gaze fixed on the entrance, heart pounding in anticipation.

Then, there she was—Hara, with her bright eyes and eager smile. Recognition sparked between them, a silent affirmation of the trust they had built. As Hara approached, Joshua's apprehensions melted away, replaced by a newfound confidence.

As Hara's small voice called out, "Uncle!" with uncontainable excitement, Joshua's face lit up with a wide smile. He knelt down, arms ready to receive the approaching bundle of joy. The little girl rushed into his embrace, her tiny arms outstretched in pure delight.

"Hi Hara!" Joshua greeted her warmly, the affection in his voice mirroring the twinkle in his eyes.

Hara, her eyes sparkling like stars, peered up at Joshua with a curious glint. "Is daddy busy?" she inquired, her innocence adding a touch of sweetness to the question. Joshua nodded gently, his expression tender. "Yes, sweetie. That's why I'm the lucky one picking you up today. Are you excited?"

Hara's response was a burst of unrestrained enthusiasm. Her head bobbed up and down like an animated doll, her voice a melodious chorus of, "Yes, yes, yes!" Her anticipation radiated from her like a beacon of pure childhood joy, painting the air around them with an infectious excitement.

As they strolled towards the car, Hara, her small hand nestled in Joshua's, turned to him with a curious look. She inquired about her father, Junhui, if he had his lunch this afternoon. Joshua pondered for a moment, recalling whether Junhui had managed to grab lunch before diving into the meeting. He was certain Junhui hadn't.

"Can we stop at the bakery near my school? I want to buy him and you my favorite cupcake," Hara proposed, her eyes wide with hope. Joshua couldn't resist her earnest request. After all, who could say no to cupcakes? It was a harmless indulgence.

Upon arriving at the bakery, Hara's eyes widened, a sudden gasp escaping her lips. Instantly, Joshua's protective instincts kicked in, a rush of concern washing over him. He swiftly turned to Hara, asking with a gentle urgency, "Are you okay?"

Hara's confession, delivered with the innocence only a five-year-old could muster, both touched and amused Joshua. She looked up at him, her big eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and honesty. "I don't have any money."

Suppressing a chuckle, Joshua crouched down to her level, his tone reassuring. "It's okay, sweetie. I'll take care of it." As his words washed over her, a radiant smile lit up Hara's face, the worry dissipating as swiftly as it had come.

As they stepped into the bakery, a hush settled over the empty space, the only sound being the faint hum of refrigeration units. They ambled through the inviting displays, each dessert a potential treasure trove for Hara. She nestled in Joshua's arms, torn between the allure of a cupcake and the temptation of a cookie.

"Why not both?" Joshua's voice, tender and reassuring, broke the internal struggle Hara was facing. Her eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight. "Is that okay?"

With an eager nod, Hara's decision was made, and Joshua promptly collected both the coveted cupcake and the enticing cookie. The radiant smile that bloomed on her face was Joshua's reward, but it was the soft, whispered "thank you..." that danced in his ears that truly warmed his heart.

Just as they were immersed in this sweet exchange, a sudden, welcoming voice enveloped the bakery, pulling Joshua's attention away from the confections. "Welcome to Sweeties..."

Joshua's breath hitched, his gaze swiftly shifting from the colorful array of treats to the source of the voice. Standing a mere two meters away was a familiar face, one that sent a jolt of surprise and recognition through him. It was Y/n, his dear friend from college.

"Wait just a minute, Hara," Joshua gently set her down and took a step toward the woman, a sense of pleasant shock mirrored in both their expressions at this unexpected reunion.

"Y/n, it's been such a long time!" Joshua's voice bubbled with genuine joy, his smile growing wider as he caught sight of Y/n's matching grin.

"I thought I was imagining things. I had no idea you were in Seoul," Y/n admitted, her surprise blending with a palpable delight.

"Yeah, it's been 7 years since I moved here. How have you been?" Joshua inquired, his tone filled with a mixture of curiosity and genuine care. The air around them seemed to buzz with the energy of reconnection, weaving a bridge between their shared past and this unexpected present encounter.

"I'm doing great, and you? I've spotted her around a few times," Y/n mentioned, her gaze shifting towards Hara who was now engrossed in examining the colorful macarons displayed on the stall.

Joshua's eyes twinkled with fondness as he observed Hara's fascination. He turned back to Y/n, a warm chuckle escaping him. "I'm good too. Her school is just a few blocks from here. Can you believe it? It's like a dream come true," he remarked, a subtle nod towards the array of delectable pastries that surrounded them. He knew of Y/n's long-standing dream from their university days to own her own bakery.

Y/n offered a nonchalant shrug, but there was a glint of contentment in her eyes. "I know, right? It's been two years, and it's become my favorite job."

Joshua's gaze wandered to Y/n's hands, and there, he spotted a delicate ring adorning her middle finger. He couldn't help but ask, curiosity laced with a touch of surprise, "Are you engaged?" Their eyes met, and Y/n hesitated for a moment, her gaze flitting towards Hara before she softly affirmed, "Yeah," with a slow, affirmative nod.

The next question carried a weight of intensity, as Joshua inquired, "Are you happy?" His concern for Y/n radiated through his gaze. She met his eyes steadily, her response deliberate and sincere, another nod indicating her contentment.

As their conversation flowed, Hara made her selection of treats. Just as Joshua was about to pay, Y/n interjected, her voice carrying a note of generosity. "It's on the house."

Joshua's immediate response was to decline, insisting they were purchasing quite a bit and it wouldn't be fair to receive them for free. Y/n countered with a tempting offer, "Alright then, how about coffee? Still a fan of your Americano with two shots?"

A laugh bubbled from Joshua, the sound warm and genuine. It seemed Y/n knew just how to strike a deal that left everyone feeling content and connected in this unexpected reunion at the sweet haven of her bakery.

As they settled into the car, Hara's voice, laced with curiosity, broke the brief silence. "Do you know her, uncle?" she inquired. Joshua, his focus on the road, let out a thoughtful hum. The engine purred to life, carrying them away towards the office.

Then, unexpectedly, Joshua's voice filled the car, carrying a note of nostalgia. "She was my first love in college."

Hara's wide eyes sparkled with intrigue. "Really? Were you two dating?" she asked, her young mind eager for the details. Joshua, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, shook his head with a soft smile. "We were friends from the first day of college, but I never mustered the courage to confess. Seeing her again after all these years was quite a surprise."

Hara's curiosity continued to swell, her innocence driving her to probe further. "Why didn't you confess?" she wondered aloud.

A tender sincerity colored Joshua's voice as he explained, "I didn't want to risk losing our friendship."

Hara pondered this for a moment before pressing on. "But did you ever try to confess?" she inquired, her young eyes studying Joshua's face for any hint of what might lie beneath his words.

Joshua, his gaze softening, shook his head gently, the weight of the past mingling with the present. It was a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings that had lingered.

Hara's little face contorted into a playful pout, her dad's wisdom echoing in her mind. "My dad says that trying might hurt but it'll be worth it," she mused, her voice tinged with a mix of contemplation and innocence. Joshua couldn't help but be touched by the profound simplicity in her words, a wisdom that belied her tender years.

Listening to Hara's musings, a soft smile played on Joshua's lips. He decided to seize the moment to seek her opinion on the matter. "Honestly, I have no idea what that means," Hara replied nonchalantly, the weight of her father's advice not yet entirely comprehensible to her young mind. Meanwhile, she nibbled contentedly on her macaroon, the pastel hues of the sweet treat contrasting with her contemplative expression.

Joshua, amused by her response, seized the opportunity to ask about the taste of the macaroon. "Is that good?" he inquired, his tone filled with genuine interest. Hara's enthusiastic nod affirmed her satisfaction, her eyes bright with the pleasure of the delightful treat.

"Thanks for buying me, Uncle. I'll pay you back once I grow up!" Hara declared, her gratitude expressed with a sincerity that warmed Joshua's heart. He nodded, deciding to play along with her lighthearted promise.

One time, two times, and then countless more, Joshua found himself in the routine of picking up Hara from school. What started as a simple request from his boss had evolved into a regular volunteer role for him. The smile on Junhui's face whenever he saw them together spoke volumes. It was clear that Hara cherished these moments with Joshua, and the journey from school to her father's office was transformed into an exciting adventure.

Reason number one for Joshua's eagerness was crystal clear. It wasn't just about being a reliable presence for Hara. It was the genuine joy he felt in her company. They laughed, shared stories, and sometimes even indulged in small escapades that turned ordinary errands into memorable episodes.

And then there was reason number two, which Joshua didn't mind admitting. It was the perfect excuse to visit Y/n's enchanting bakery. The aroma of freshly baked goodies, the vibrant display of pastries, and the warm ambiance—it was a slice of paradise in his day. As he'd open the door, he'd already know Hara's inevitable request, "Can I have my favorite macaroon from Sweeties, please?" It was almost a ritual. Her preferences would shift from cupcakes to macaroons, but Joshua didn't mind. For him, it was the smile on her face that truly mattered.

However, amid all these routines, there was another habit that had stealthily crept up on Joshua. It wasn't until the third visit that he became aware of it. Staring at his reflection in the rearview mirror, he'd question himself. "Is his hair styled just right? Is the suit impeccably ironed? Does his shirt complement his skin tone? And can she catch a whiff of his carefully chosen perfume?" These were the thoughts that occupied his mind.

He couldn't help but chuckle at his own introspection. "Who are you trying to impress, Hong? A stack of macaroons? An almond croissant sitting on the stall?" he'd jest with himself. But deep down, he knew the answer. His thoughts always circled back to Y/n, his college crush, who seemed to occupy a special corner in his heart.

With every encounter, every conversation, his feelings for her only grew stronger. It was a realization that struck him with a mixture of nostalgia and newfound hope. The crush he thought he'd buried long ago was very much alive, and in fact, thriving. Each interaction with Y/n was like a brushstroke, painting a vivid picture of affection that Joshua couldn't deny any longer.

*

"As expected, Y/n," Joshua chirped, his voice a friendly melody in the air. Y/n made her way from the kitchen, a tray laden with warm, freshly baked bread cradled in her hands. A gentle smile danced on her lips, brought to life by the sight of Hara's bright, shimmering eyes.

Setting the tray on the stool, Y/n felt a warmth spread through her. Hara mumbled something, a secret shared only for Y/n to catch. Sensing Hara's shyness, Joshua leaned in, his words a gentle encouragement, assuring her that she needn't be timid in Y/n's presence. "Speak up, Hara, she's as friendly as they come!" he added with a chuckle, infusing the moment with a touch of humor.

"Can I get that too, uncle?" Hara's voice was sweet and eager, breaking the air with innocence and curiosity.

Y/n's brows shot up in surprise. "Uncle?" she echoed, her curiosity piqued. It was the first time she'd heard Hara's voice, and the term caught her off guard.

Y/n struggled to find her words, the question hanging on the tip of her tongue, but not quite making its way out. This revelation left her momentarily speechless.

Joshua, noticing Y/n's bewilderment, turned to her with a questioning look. "She's calling you... isn't she your daughter?" She inquired, a touch of confusion in her eyes.

Joshua glanced at Y/n, his expression a mixture of surprise and realization. "Oh, I never told you?" he began, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "She's my boss's daughter. I haven't tied the knot yet, Y/n." His tone was gentle, as though sharing a cherished secret.

A sudden chill raced down Y/n's spine, propelling her into swift action. She deftly gathered all the sweets that Hara had chosen. Joshua, startled by her abrupt shift in demeanor, watched in quiet curiosity, sensing that now wasn't the time to inquire.

A soft chime announced a newcomer. The door swung open, revealing a tall, sun-kissed man, his smile lighting up the room. Clutched in his hand was a bundle of meals, a simple offering of warmth and sustenance. What didn't escape Joshua's notice was the glint of an engagement ring gracing the man's finger.

"Ah, I should get going," Joshua murmured, a touch of awkwardness dancing in his smile. He gently informed Hara that they needed to head to the office. With a wave, Hara bid Y/n goodbye, her departure leaving a faint sense of longing in the air.

The newcomer, attuned to the change in atmosphere, turned to Y/n with concern etched across his face. He couldn't help but ask, "Who is he?" The question hung in the air, tinged with a hint of curiosity and a touch of wariness.

Y/n was willing to bet that Joshua overheard Mingyu's inquisitive words. With their departure, a weight seemed to settle in the air. She released a heavy sigh, her body finding solace against the worn counter.

This subtle motion didn't escape the notice of her concerned brother. "What's wrong? Who is he? Is he bothering you?" Mingyu's voice dripped with a blend of worry and slight irritation. He couldn't bear the thought of Y/n being bothered.

Y/n mumbled something, her words lost in the quiet ambiance of the shop. Mingyu leaned in, his gentle touch a balm to her unsettled soul. "What is it?" he coaxed, his voice laced with a mixture of affection and protective concern. With a tender gesture, he placed her meal on the counter.

"He's Josh."

Mingyu's eyes widened in surprise. "Joshua hyung? How could he not recognize me?" His disbelief was evident, eyebrows shooting up.

With a hint of annoyance, Y/n lifted her face to meet Mingyu's gaze. "How could anyone recognize you? Even your old self wouldn't," she quipped, a playful tease aimed at her brother's considerable transformation.

Mingyu let out a scoff, his lips twitching into a half-smile. "Then why are you like this? Aren't you happy to see him again?" he inquired, his concern tinged with a touch of gentle reproach. Y/n nodded, acknowledging the mix of emotions swirling within her.

"He's been around a few times. With that kid," Y/n murmured, her voice tinged with a hint of melancholy.

Mingyu's eyes widened in realization. "He's married?! Poor you, holding onto a long-term crush," he sympathized, his heart going out to his sister. "Come here, let me give you a hug." Mingyu's arms enveloped Y/n, offering comfort and understanding in this unexpected moment of emotional complexity.

However, Y/n didn't respond to Mingyu's attempt at comfort in the way he anticipated. Instead, a sharp slap landed on his arm, prompting a surprised whine to escape from him. "Why?!"

"He's not married," Y/n muttered, her voice tinged with frustration as she tried to untangle the complex web of emotions.

Mingyu's brow furrowed in confusion. "Then what? Is he divorced?" Another slap followed, this time landing on his other arm.

"Stop hitting me! It hurts," Mingyu protested, determined to put an end to the arm-slapping.

Y/n let out an exasperated groan, realizing how convoluted the situation had become. "Just listen!" she implored, her tone a blend of exasperation and urgency. "And don't you dare laugh." Her words earned a stifled chuckle from her younger brother. In a swift move, Y/n attempted another slap, but Mingyu managed to catch her hand, his grip firm yet gentle.

"I think I made a mistake," Y/n began, her voice tinged with regret.

"He started visiting the shop two months ago, and it's become a regular thing," she explained, a touch of frustration in her tone. "I assumed the child he always brought along was his daughter. I mean, who wouldn't? But it turns out, she's his boss's daughter."

Mingyu's brow arched in curiosity. "So, where's the twist?"

Y/n hesitated, her gaze dropping to the glimmering ring on her finger. "He saw this," she confessed, her voice a mixture of embarrassment and resignation. "And he thought I was engaged. He asked me if I was... and, you know what I said? Yes. I said yes because I thought he was married, and I was just protecting myself. I'm so messed up, Kim Mingyu." Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her impulsive decision.

Mingyu let out a sigh, absorbing Y/n's explanation. "Why did you even lie?" he inquired, a touch of perplexity in his voice.

Y/n's eyes darted around, her frustration evident. "Because— I don't know! He saw my ring and I couldn't just blurt out, 'The ring has the flower you gave me and your name engraved on it.' Especially when he was here with a child who could very well be his daughter."

Mingyu couldn't help but be impressed. He let out a low whistle and applauded. "You're so witty and clumsy all at once. We really are siblings," he remarked with a grin.

Y/n shot him a sidelong glance, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. She reached for the meal Mingyu had brought, a sense of familiarity and comfort settling over them.

The atmosphere softened as Mingyu unwrapped the meal, confirming it was from their mother. He explained how she had hastily prepared it upon his request to visit the shop, and then suggested that Y/n pay their mother a visit soon. It served as a gentle reminder of the last time Y/n had seen their mother, at their father's funeral. Their relationship had been strained since the divorce.

Shifting gears, Y/n inquired about Mingyu's upcoming wedding preparations. He let out a sigh, expressing some of the inevitable stress that comes with such occasions. "You shouldn't get married!" he joked, sharing the minor hurdles in planning with a wry smile. "Nari changed her mind three times about the decorations. And now she wants me to ask you about changing the dessert menu."

Y/n chuckled softly, a warm affection in her gaze. "It's okay. These things happen for big events," she assured him, playfully ruffling his hair. Mingyu leaned in for an embrace, expressing a touch of nostalgia. "I wish I were still a high schooler," he mumbled, resting his head on Y/n's shoulder. Her hand instinctively rose to pat his back. "You're doing a fantastic job, Mingyu. I'm proud that you took such a brave step at your age. I'm genuinely happy for you."

Pulling back, Mingyu looked at Y/n with a sincere smile. "I'm happy too, just a bit nervous and exhausted maybe," he admitted, and Y/n nodded understandingly.

"Since Mom and Dad divorced, you've been the one raising me. I may not say it often, but I hope you know that I've always been thankful for your presence, noona. And I hope you're happy too."

Y/n closed her eyes, a mixture of emotions swirling within her. "Stop it! I have to face customers after this!" she protested, a hint of tears glistening in her eyes.

Mingyu's smile softened, his gaze filled with affection for his older sister. "Invite him to my wedding. I hope you find the confidence to express your feelings to him. Don't worry about his answer. Men can be trash, unless me." he teased, bringing a lightness to the moment.

*

As closing time approached, Y/n began the task of tidying up the stall. Her baker had headed home promptly at 5 pm, while she was committed to staying until 10. A handful of croissants remained, their golden flakiness begging for a home. Who could resist a few bites of almond cream at night? Certainly not her customers. And that bottle of wine, a thoughtful gift from Mingyu two years back, had been patiently waiting for an occasion. Tonight seemed just right. After the whirlwind of a day, a glass of wine was exactly what Y/n needed to unwind and savor the quiet moments.

As she finished adjusting the croissant and set the table, a chime echoed through her shop. "I'm sorry, but we're clos— Josh?"

Y/n's voice caught in her throat as she recognized the unexpected visitor. There stood Joshua, tall and commanding, without his usual suit. Instead, he wore a sharp blue shirt that effortlessly complemented his appearance. The sleeves were casually rolled up to his elbows, a style that defied the odds and only added to his allure.

"It's night, what are you doing?" Y/n questioned, her surprise evident. She quickly shook her head, a warm smile playing on her lips. "I mean, it's really nice to see you. But isn't it a bit late for something sweet?" Her words held a hint of confusion.

Joshua's laughter danced through the air, a familiar and soothing melody in the quiet of the evening.

"Not for an almond croissant," he remarked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation as he gestured towards the delectable pastries adorning the table. "May I join?" he asked, a polite request for permission.

Y/n hesitated for a brief moment before offering a hesitant nod. She swiftly fetched another croissant and a wine glass, setting them in front of Joshua. Settling herself across from him, she couldn't help but express her concern.

Y/n's care and curiosity were palpable in her inquiry. "How have you been?"

Joshua let out a heavy sigh, his response tinged with a sense of relief. "Yeah... Big work hit, but it's finally done. Had a team dinner around here. You know the Soba restaurant near the three section? It was good," he explained, a hint of contentment in his voice. Y/n nodded in understanding.

He continued, delving into nostalgia. "You used to like that soba from a shop near our university," he reminisced, a fond smile gracing his features.

"The one with the wooden chairs? We went there a lot," Y/n admitted, her own smile growing as she recalled those cherished moments. "I remember you ordered hot soba in the summer and I was like, 'What is wrong with her?' I remember laughing a lot that day," he recounted, a hint of playfulness in his tone. Joshua's words evoked vivid memories from their college years.

Y/n stifled a smile before adding, "It was when you just failed your exam."

Joshua's brows shot up in surprise. "Ah, really? I couldn't remember that. Yeah... I failed a lot of tests back in university," he admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle. His gaze softened as he looked at Y/n, a sense of gratitude and warmth filling the air between them.

Joshua couldn't help but let out an impressed coo. "You haven't changed much, Y/n. Talking to you like this feels like we've stepped back a decade," he mused, tilting his head as his eyes traced the familiar features before him.

Y/n responded with a soft chuckle. "Meanwhile, you've changed quite a bit, Josh. I would never have expected to see you in a dress shirt and suit like today. You always favored crewnecks and that one t-shirt with the rock band print," she pointed out, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

Joshua joined in her laughter, acknowledging the transformation. "You're absolutely right! I've gone through quite the evolution. I ran into one of our friends from college a few days back, and he didn't even recognize me," he recalled, a touch of amusement in his tone.

"Even Mingyu couldn't recognize you," Y/n chimed in, and Joshua's brow furrowed in surprise.

"Mingyu? He met me? When?" Joshua was genuinely taken aback. He remembered Y/n's younger brother as a tall kid who matched his height back when he was still in junior high school, a decade ago.

Y/n's eyes widened, a chuckle escaping her. "The last time you visited. Mingyu was here," she reminded him. Joshua let out a small gasp. "It was Mingyu?! I thought he was your fiance!" he exclaimed, covering his face with his palm in embarrassment.

"It was Mingyu. He's grown a lot, hasn't he? It's not surprising that you two didn't recognize each other," Y/n reassured, a fondness in her voice.

Joshua let out a sigh, his fingers gently massaging his temple. "So, it was Kim Mingyu, that little rascal who used to pester you back in the early semesters," he recalled with a laugh, the memory now tinted with amusement and affection.

"How's your parent?" Joshua inquired, his tone gentle and concerned.

Y/n's lips pressed into a tight line, her expression revealing the weight of her words. "Not long after you moved to The States, they got divorced. We lived with our father for four years before he passed away," she explained, a somber note in her voice. She chose not to mention the years of estrangement from her mother.

Joshua's gaze softened, his eyes filled with regret. "I'm so sorry, I... I had no idea," he murmured, his heart heavy with the news.

"That's why you went out of reach," he concluded, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. The sudden loss of contact with Y/n had always puzzled him, but now it made sense.

Y/n nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on the memories that played in her mind. "My father's company faced bankruptcy, and my mother..." she hesitated, "she was cheating. They got divorced, and I had to work at the bakery near our university because my father couldn't afford to support both of us. And here I am, now. Running my own shop," she said, her smile holding a mixture of pride and reflection on how the challenges of the past had shaped her present.

Joshua looked at Y/n, his heart heavy with unspoken words. Guilt washed over him, rendering him momentarily speechless. He vividly recalled the day he had to break the news to Y/n about his impending move to the States, just two weeks before his flight. His mother, a single parent, had raised him alone from a young age. After his graduation, she informed him about their relocation due to her work, leaving behind everything in Seoul. Leaving Y/n was an agonizing decision, as she was the only thing that made Joshua contemplate staying. But he knew he had to join his mother after her earnest plea.

"Do you remember when I wanted to become a jeweler?" Y/n's voice pierced through the heavy air, drawing Joshua's attention. He nodded in response. She rose from her seat and went to the counter. When she returned, a small box nestled in her hand, Joshua's gaze shifted to her ringless finger.

Without hesitation, he gently took her hand in his own, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and tenderness.

"Your ring—" Joshua began, his voice catching in his throat as he beheld the contents of the velvety box. Inside lay a ring and bracelet, delicate and gleaming.

"I made these," Y/n revealed, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a hint of vulnerability. She settled back into her chair, carefully placing the silver jewelry on the table.

Joshua's gaze remained fixed on the pieces, his heart pounding in his chest. He noticed that his name was engraved on both the ring and bracelet. Y/n's words tugged at his emotions, each syllable laced with the weight of untold feelings. "I was going to give these to you before your flight. But I couldn't make it; my parents were fighting that morning," she confessed, her voice carrying a mixture of regret and longing.

As he looked at Y/n, then back to the jewelry, his breath seemed to catch in his throat. The significance of the moment weighed heavily on him.

Y/n produced a necklace, its centerpiece a ring that had adorned her middle finger for all these years. "Mine has your name on it too. I meant to engrave my own, but for some reason, I etched yours," she shared, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

"It's crazy, isn't it? That I cared for you so much, Josh," Y/n finally confessed, her eyes meeting his, a blend of hope and apprehension in their depths.

"I liked you a lot, and i might still."

The weight of Y/n's confession hung in the air, her words barely more than a mumble. Yet, they carried a profound weight, echoing through the space between them.

In that moment, Joshua finally comprehended that his feelings were not one-sided. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a truth he hadn't dared to believe. He stood there, looking at Y/n, his heart pounding in his chest. For the first time, the enormity of the situation washed over him, leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed. He had been carrying this sentiment for so long, never imagining that it might be returned. A sense of humility settled upon him, a realization that he had underestimated the depth of Y/n's emotions. He felt like a fool, sitting there in front of her, unable to find the right words to express the tumultuous storm of feelings coursing through him.

Under the tranquil embrace of the night, with the park as their silent witness, Joshua's voice carried a weight that only a decade of silent longing could hold.

"Y/n," he spoke, his words deliberate and infused with a vulnerability that had been buried deep for far too long. "Tonight, hearing your words... it's like a floodgate has burst open within me."

Turning to face her, he held her gaze with an intensity that spoke volumes. "For more than decade, I've carried this in my heart. From the very beginning, you captured my soul in a way I never thought possible. You've been my sanctuary, the person I've turned to in my darkest hours, even from across the ocean."

The sincerity in his voice was palpable, each word a testament to the depth of his emotions. "I was so afraid of losing you that I couldn't find the courage to say anything. But now, knowing that you feel... something for me too, it's like a dream come true."

"I like you a lot. No, i've been in love with you, Y/n."

The air hung heavy with anticipation, the moment pregnant with significance. Joshua's heart raced, every beat a testament to the years of yearning he had endured. With bated breath, he waited for Y/n's response, hoping beyond hope that the feelings he had nurtured in secret for a decade would find their rightful place in the open.

*

On the day of Mingyu's wedding, the venue was bathed in a warm, golden light, casting a radiant glow on the beaming couple. Mingyu, standing tall in his tuxedo, took the mic with a mixture of excitement and nervousness in his eyes. The room fell into a hushed anticipation as he cleared his throat, preparing to address the gathered guests.

"Thank you all for being here today," he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "Today is a day of celebration, not only for me and Nari, but for the bonds that tie families together."

Mingyu continued his speech. As he spoke, Mingyu's gaze drifted to Y/n, his older sister, seated among the guests. Her eyes shimmered with unspoken pride and affection, a silent affirmation of their shared journey.

He continued, his voice carrying a note of gratitude, "Today, I stand here as a man about to embark on a new chapter of my life. And I owe so much of who I am to the incredible woman who has always been there for me, through thick and thin."

Turning towards Y/n, Mingyu's voice softened with sincerity. "To my sister, Y/n, you've been my rock, my confidante, and my source of endless support. You've guided me, protected me, and loved me unconditionally. Today, I want to take a moment to thank you, not only for being an amazing sister, but for being an incredible friend."

A swell of applause and affectionate murmurs filled the room, a testament to the love that emanated from this tight-knit family. Mingyu's words had touched the hearts of everyone present, leaving an indelible mark on this special day.

The wedding ceremony unfolded like a dream, an atmosphere of pure happiness enveloping the guests. Mingyu, the groom, approached his sister, Y/n, a vision in her lace gown, diligently overseeing the desserts from her bakery. He enveloped her in a warm embrace, their connection palpable even in the midst of the celebration. He pulled back, Y/n teasingly echoing Mingyu's earlier words, "Your confidante, huh?" A playful eye-roll followed, a testament to their easy camaraderie.

Y/n couldn't help but let out a joyful laugh, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Well, I had to make a good impression on my new in-laws, didn't I? Let them know they're getting a true family man," he quipped in a conspiratorial whisper. Joshua, standing alongside them, couldn't contain his own chuckle at their banter.

"Thanks for coming, hyung," Mingyu expressed his gratitude, pulling Joshua into a heartfelt hug. Joshua extending his warmest congratulations.

A mischievous gleam danced in Joshua's eyes as he added, "For someone who's kept my girlfriend busy all month, you sure seem appreciative." His words were laced with playful sarcasm, a nod to the last-minute dessert changes that had kept Y/n on her toes.

Mingyu's expression softened, a touch of remorse etching his features. "I'm sorry, hyung. I forgot how much this meant to you. I promise, after this, I won't meddle anymore," he vowed, signing to the new relationship between his sister and Joshua that had been silent for over a decade.

As the joyous celebration continued, a voice calling Joshua's name interrupted their lively conversation. Turning, their attention was drawn to a woman standing behind them. Joshua recognized her as one of his colleagues from the company, and he extended his hand in greeting.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Joshua remarked, a pleasant surprise lacing his voice.

The woman nodded, a smile playing on her lips. "Nari is my junior from college," she explained, her eyes keenly observing the dynamic between Joshua and Y/n.

It wasn't lost on Joshua that his hand lingered at Y/n's waist. Suddenly, the realization struck him, and he made the introduction with a touch of pride, "Oh, please meet my girlfriend, Y/n. Those croquembouche were made by her." The swell of pride in his voice resonated with a warmth that emanated from him.

Mingyu, standing beside them, nodded appreciatively and offered a warm smile, extending his gratitude to the woman for joining them in the celebration.

The woman's words hung in the air, a statement that stirred a shift in the atmosphere. "I didn't know you had a girlfriend, Mr. Hong," she reiterated, her tone carrying a hint of surprise. Before Joshua could respond, Mingyu swooped in, feigning hurt over Joshua's apparent secrecy.

"Hyung, really? You've been keeping your relationship with my sister under wraps from everyone? Noona, you deserve someone who'll shout your worth from the rooftops!" Mingyu playfully chided, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. Y/n simply smiled, recognizing her brother's penchant for theatrics.

Joshua let out a sigh, a mixture of exasperation and amusement tingeing his voice. "I kept everything hidden," he confessed, a touch of irritation coloring his words. Yet, his smile only grew, his hold on Y/n's waist tightening. It was a silent declaration, an unspoken testament to the depth of his feelings for her, a sentiment that had been quietly growing within him. The unspoken connection between them, now brought to light, added a layer of intimacy to the moment, making it all the more special.

*

A fresh morning light bathed the room, infusing it with a sense of energy and possibility. Joshua entered, a warm smile gracing his features, bearing a circle of coffee and delectable desserts for the ladies gathered at the tables. Their eyes lit up with gratitude as they received the treats, a tangible token of appreciation for their successful drama project.

"Morning, ladies. I heard the drama project was a hit. Here's my treat," Joshua announced, his voice carrying a touch of genuine warmth.

As they settled into their seats, one of them couldn't help but voice the rumor swirling in the office. "Is it true, Mr. Hong?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued.

Joshua's smile remained steadfast, a hint of intrigue twinkling in his eyes. "What rumor?" he playfully deflected, his tone light.

"That you're in a relationship? There's a screenshot of your Instagram Story with a woman on the company community web," another woman eagerly elaborated, her excitement palpable.

Joshua let out a chuckle at their enthusiasm. With an air of showmanship, he unveiled the box of delectable desserts, their intricate designs and inviting aromas captivating their attention. "They look amazing, right?" he asked, a note of pride coloring his voice.

"These are from Seongsu-dong, just a block away from a kindergarten. The shop's called Sweeties. If you ever want to meet my girlfriend, that's the place to go. Please enjoy," Joshua shared, his words imbued with a touch of playfulness and sincerity. With a final warm goodbye, he left the group of women officers, their smiles and laughter lingering in the air. The morning continued, infused with a sense of camaraderie and shared enjoyment.

The end.

[zazter-den]

Wake-Up Call

Synopsis- Your situation Bakugo is on a mission in another country, so why bother worrying him by mentioning that you're sick? (You really should have known that would backfire).

Reader Characteristics- Gender Neutral, Sick (Implied COVID), Brat.

Warnings- Suggestive Ending

Tags- Illness Comfort, Dom Fluff, Long-Distance Fluff, Spanking Mention, D/S Dynamic, FWB!Bakugo, Caretaker!Bakugo.

Word Count- 1500

A breeze slipped through the slightly ajar window of your apartment, filling your bedroom with the smell of rain. The world outside was blanketed in a thick mist, the city was still asleep, muted to a quiet hum. It was a chilly morning, the kind that would have you reaching for a warm cup of coffee and a cozy sweater. But for you, it was perfect.

The sun wasn't even up yet, and you were curled up in bed, buried deep under a pile of blankets. Your makeshift nest kept you warm, while the cold air from the window nipped at your nose. Every breath you took was crisp morning air and the smell of rain-soaked soil. It was a smell you loved, one that always soothed you when you were sick. With a soft sigh, you snuggled deeper into the comforters, letting the calm of the early morning lull you back to sleep.

The world could wait.

With your face nestled into the cool sheets, you were on the verge of slipping back to sleep. At least you were, before a sudden melody filled the room. The calming marimba cover of the Final Fantasy intro was a sound only assigned to your closest party members. With a groan, you reluctantly popped your head out from under the warm cocoon of your comforters. Your fingers clumsily fumbling for the source of the noise. The cellphone screen hurt, even with the reduced brightness of night mode, and you squinted at it, trying to make out the caller ID. Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes finally focused on the TNT emoji that popped up with the video call.

Katsuki.

A facetime call? This early? Your sleepy confusion only got worse. Your… well, you weren't quite sure what to call him. Best friend? Lover? Bro with benefits? It was complicated. Bakugo was supposed to be away on a mission in another country. Their facetime calls were always scheduled ahead of time, taking into account the time difference and the unpredictable work shifts you both had. An unscheduled call like this was… unusual, let alone a video chat. With a sense of growing dread, your mind started racing with possibilities. Was the mission a success? Was he okay? What if something had happened?

Pushing down the worry that had begun to creep up, you swiped to connect the video call. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited for the connection to go through. The phone flickered, and then Bakugo's face filled the screen. It was a bright afternoon wherever he was. His spiky blond hair glinted in the sunlight, and his red eyes seemed even brighter. His face was a sight for sore eyes, and without realizing it, a sleepy smile found its way onto your face. Whatever was going on, it was good to see him.

"You wanna tell me why I had to hear from Deku that you're sick?"

Oh. Oh, you take that back.

"Good mornin' to you too Kacchan" your voice squeaked, trying (and failing) to hide the guilt you felt. Cheeks flushing, you quickly buried your face into the pillow. Your eyes peeped out over the top, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You could feel his glare burning into you through the screen, and knew you were in for an earful.

"Don't fuckin' 'Kacchan' me" Bakugo snapped, his scowl deepening. His voice had that distinctive edge to it, the one that told her he was more worried than mad. It might be bright and shining where he was, but his mood was anything but sunny.

You swallowed hard, throat dry as you tried to find the right words. "It's just a mild case, Katsuki" you admitted in a small shaky voice. You nestled your fevered face further into the cool pillow. "I'm just tired, can't really think straight… and I've been sleeping a lot." You gave him a weak smile, trying your best to reassure him.

Too bad your words didn't seem to have the desired effect. If anything, his frown only grew. "I'll be over it by the time you fly back home… so I figured I wouldn't worry you" you added, trying to sound upbeat despite the fatigue that weighed you down.

Bakugo pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed shut in frustration. "Great plan" he muttered sarcastically. "Do you have any idea how fuckin' worried I was when Deku told me you had to catch your breath on the stairs?"

You let out a nervous chuckle, hand rubbing the back of your neck. "You'll be happy to know I've started taking the elevator?" you offered, attempting to lighten the mood.

Bakugo's glare softened a little, but he wasn't about to let you off that easy. "Not the point, and you damn well know it. You should have told me, sweetheart. I don't care if it's “mild” or not. I should've been the first to know. If you're sick, I wanna be there for you, even if it's just through the phone."

The screen shook a bit as Bakugo let out an exasperated sigh. He cares, deeply, that much is clear- even if neither of you have taken the step to label what's going on between them. It's in the way his eyes softened after the initial anger, in the way he called you first thing after hearing the news, even with oceans between the two of you. "Just...take care of yourself, okay? And keep me updated, no matter how small the shit is. Got it?" Bakugo's voice was rough, but the concern unmistakable.

"Heh, you care about me" you couldn't help but poke fun, laying back and stretching your arms above your head. The chilly morning mist moved the translucent curtains, but you couldn't feel warmer. As you settled back on the bed, the phone angle shifted, giving him a clearer view of your "pajamas".

"I care about you not being a dumba-" Katsuki began, his usual attitude ready on his tongue, but it fizzled out as you derailed his train of thought. His eyes fixated on the bright red stylized skull stitched across the cotton top you wore. He already knew the answer, but asked anyway. "...Is that my shirt?" he demanded in a softer voice, his cheeks quickly gaining a subtle pink.

"Ah, ya, sorry. You left it here last time you were over" You admitted a little sheepish, fingers nervously started to play with the hem. The fabric was worn and soft from use, and it's comforting in a way that's hard to describe. "I've been having really bad body aches and it's the softest shirt here" you added. "I'll take it off if you want?" The offer is genuine, but it's clear from the reluctant tilt of your head and the way your grip tightened on the fabric, that you'd rather not part with the small piece of him you have.

"No" Katsuki blurted out more quickly than he intended, his ears now matched the soft pink of his cheeks. He turned away from the camera, as if his sudden interest in the landscape in the distance could hide the heat he felt creeping up his neck. "It's fine."

"Bakugo Katsuki- are you blushing?" you teased, amusement clear as day. He could practically hear the smirk in your words. Your sleepy grin was wide on his screen, and he could feel it without looking.

"Hush" he growled, trying to regain composure as he glared into the camera at you. The red in his cheeks deepened despite his best efforts. "It's not like I haven't seen you in my stuff before. Just... keep the damn shirt on if it makes you feel better" he conceded gruffly, unable to hide the fact that, deep down, he likes seeing you wrapped up in something of his. Bakugo's eyes narrowed as he caught the bratty grin still stretched across your face, your smugness speaking volumes through the screen. His initial embarrassment at being caught blushing quickly evaporated. If the little brat wanted to play, then fine by him.

"But don’t think you’re off the hook for keeping me in the dark, darlin'" he chuckled darkly, the sound sent a shiver down your spine. Your grin faltered, replaced by a nervous gulp. You knew that tone, the one that signaled you had danced on the line and now Katsuki was about to remind you just who’s in charge.

He leaned closer to the phone, his red eyes piercing into yours. "Once I’m back, you’re gonna wear that shirt- and that shirt only" Bakugo said with a feral grin, the demand in his voice leaving no room for argument. "Then I’m gonna spank that ass of yours until it’s as red as the skull on your chest." The edge in his voice stole your breath away, and you sat up a little straighter.

Bakugo was miles away but it felt like he was here, invading your bedroom, taking over every inch of air around you. You could feel his authority fall over you like a comforting weight. Your body already ached for his touch, for the slap of his hands, the sharp bite of his teeth, and the relentless pounding of his cock. A whimper you didn't realize you were holding back slipped out, and now Katsuki was the one leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “Better be good for me and rest up, brat. I'll see you when I get home.”

No pressure tags for the Kacchan fans!: @bakubunny @neon-gothicc @dcsiremc @sadgirltrademark @purecoco

[cosmique-oddity]

Cosmos and Soundwave Story Line

Made with the precious help of my mutuals @gravedwe11er and @polarpasteque

Because we thought maybe the Mecha Universe lacked a bit of a space Nerd :)

Based of @keferon ‘s AU

————————————————————————————

It felt like a rainy day, when the skies cry and you decide to stay at home, watching the weather from a point where it doesnt affect you. Intensitive at even one single drop, usually, you take a blanket and watch at these amount of water, crashing on everything. Set the world all grey.

Well space was just far bigger. Far lonelier and, as a matter of fact....just more far. He watched the little blue planet, with his white volutes the day and all the littles spotlights at night, mimicking the stars all around. Even the Black void of space was captiving, far deeper than all kind of Earth's deepest oceans. We could say....it felt like the little planet was slowly swallowed by darkness.

Cosmos understood why a lot of astronaut came back to Earth and didnt care a lot about Earth matters. How could you pay any attention at some human conflict when the space was so much bigger than human's hybris ?

He shared that opinion. When he made his first trip to the outer space, Cosmos couldnt stop himself but admire the little details, even the more basic ones ever to space life. He was almost distracted from his original mission but, happily, the man was good at multitasking.

Floating like that, in the Hermes I Station, he knew he wouldnt want to return in Earth. Ever.

And while he was gazing at the immensity of the greater dark, he didnt realized how he was trapping himself, definitely, on what he was now calling 'his great loneliness'.

Not that it was any different than on Earth, he always was that silent man, that clever and kind and courageous man. Everyone of his colleague knew to call him if they needed something.

"Call Cosmos, the one with stars and space shuttles on his desk, he is very strong, he can carry that".

He didnt even know when he became 'Cosmos'. He was useful. Everyone knew to call him for help, but the thing was...nobody really knew him for himself. He was Cosmos for everyone because that was the only distinct thing the other could tell about him. He was obsessed with the stars. Pretty average among training astronauts ? Maybe, but Cosmos physically yearned for space and stars. Everything was about that. Escaping Earth. Setting himself on a tiny space box and sort of leave this physical realm. Be among his Kind, the cosmos.

Now, among the stars, he was feeling it. The loneliness. Wasnt that different from before, but maybe more hopeless. He talked with people, yep, everyday. His Job was very important, using all the high tech tool he has at his disposal to find the Kaijus, the fastest possible, and warn the Kaiju's Extermination Organisation. He saved lifes. And on the same side, was trying to intercept any extra terrestrial communication, from Kaijus, to find something, anything that could slow their obliteration.

Cosmos was aware of their war and how they were losing it. But everything was so far in space...the program that choosed to isolate him on that tiny flying box at the edges of their gravity force and Earth's magnetical shield also prevented him from War's horrors. He didnt saw any horrible things he knew were happening. He know it, saw it on internet.

He sighed. Mostly, his work was to watch the AI of his computer do the job alone, and assist any bug he saw.

Lets say they werent a lot of them, and oftenly he was just watching any serie his internet connexion allowed him to watch. Or searching for any weird frequencies on space.

Did he said he nammed the AI Doc ? And was talking to the thing, on top of that ! Doc wasnt a bad person. His answers were just a little bit expected and repetitive...

This day was one of those empty day. No scary alien was threatening humanity. Well, in the film he was watching, Alien, he couldnt say so. Did he mention he was a space nerd ? Even the movies he watched reflected that.

And because IRL Aliens were invading his homeland didnt mean he didnt enjoyed watching similar scenario in movie. He was far from everything. It wasnt affecting him at all, this war.

The latest human he spoke to was a Mech Pilot, codnammed Jazz he was charged to monitor through space. He a was solar person, loving music... Sympathetic, you couldnt possibly hate Jazz even if you knew him only three minutes. He was Talkative enquiring for the astronaut's mental health, alone out there. Cosmos has felt compassion for him. Someone threw him too, in the middle of the biggest knowhere existying. Except everyone knew Jazz and considered, and liked him, so it was certainly difficult for the pilot to leave. It wasnt for Cosmos.

Cosmos knew he was the last living person he saw. Because Jazz vanished. Probably died. And this human was the living being he grieved the most in his whole life. He cried alone in the space station when someone ordered him to stop searching for the silenced voice of Jazz.

They didnt send another man, and that, he was glad. He prefered having emotions toward an undying AI than realizing how many people died around him.

Cosmos was sat at his desk. Question of protocol, he wouldnt imagine not being here and missing a Kaiju and being responsible of Earth's destruction. Slowly dying from oxygene loss or being swallowed by some extraterrestrial giant jaw.....or being held hostage and having eggs layed on him.....

Maybe he should stop watching that movie.

Suddendly, an audio signal howled inside the etricate desk room of the station, Cosmos paused his movie and stood up, enthusiastic. That was the radio signal ! Jazz being finally alive ? An old broadcast lost in space ??

Radio news were the most interesting informations he could have !

All happily, he floated until having the complex system of communication in his hands. He could proudly affirming he knew everything about this machinery. That was his most loyal friend and good news annoncer. And he have been to silent since Jazz disappearance.

Except this time, the intercepted message wasnt translating in words, it wasnt an audio media. His device was displaying error messages. The thing was extremely weird looking. There was some space radio wave, in a frequence he never heard of before now.

Some weird alien wave ? He was displaying itself on repeat, as if it was enscribed into the FSK modulator (that one device used to send signals via frequency through very far locations). He took the headphone and tried to module the initial suit of waves into something audible. Changing the setting everytime he heard a risible ‘pfffuit’ or a deafening ‘SHRIEEEEEERK’. Maybe he would lose his hearing before translating the enigmatic sound wave. And people would be forced to send someone after him. Someone else, less used to loneliness would be where he had been. Wondering the same things. Sleeping in the same berth. Being disposable was always an unpleasant thought.

He slowed immensely the data of the enigmatic wave, and finally began to hear something approximatively human. English it was.

“.....Noise…..”.

An erailled, full of static voice could be heard, close to Cosmos's ear, and all it was saying was a statement about what he was hearing from the beginning of his manipulation. What the hell was this message ? It was coming from so far ? Was it alien ?? Did he finally succeed on the mission of finding another life form or even more interesting, secret Kaiju's comm line ??? Were the extraterrestrial sentient after all ???

He slowed even more and passed on another frequency. The message kept its static and emotionless deincarnated voice but the pronounciation was perfect and audible.

“Noise : excede the safe amount” “Sentient local specie : Endangered” “{QQZERRTEAAASS} : might and will hear”.

What was that ? The first alien broadcasted message in history and it was telling him to shut the fuck up ?

The unbearable piercing scriieech sound before ‘might and will hear’ was not rocket science to understand. That was probably speaking about the Kaijus. Kaiju and danger formed a loving couple from the past decade.

He took some time to mentally register the information before imobilizing. Eyes wide. Another signal was displaying. And its been on display for longer than he noticed. That was Kaiju's detection signal. His heart stopped for a while. Since how long had he been focused on the translation of the alien message ?

Floating as fast as he could. Wich must have been fun to watch if he wasnt alone, Cosmos crossed the distance between the modulator and the board computer for the second time of the day. Faster.

He read, panicking highly, all the pings across the screen and finally allowed his heart to slow down.

He was wrong. He was not that useful. Doc took care of the attack, he…..it warned the Extermination Organisation, and triangulated the position for the intel responsibles back on Earth.

The only thing it needed from Cosmos was writing a report and archive all the attack's metrics.

He sighed. Doc wouldve done very well without him, if he could automatize this part of the script, he would be officialy useless.

He nervously scratched his curly ginger hairs. He hadnt noticed how long they got (not that long but longer than the classic military haircut he adopted at the beginning of his formation). Useless ?

No. Cosmos had now the most important mission of humanity. He had to answer back to the alien form that wasnt (probably) a Kaiju. He worked on Doc's automatization for a while, remembering suddenly he had to eat at some point. Biting proudly in his sandwich, he told the AI.

“I cannot assist you anymore, old friend, i have my own mission to accomplish now, im going to talk to the Alien. And if i can convince him to help, then maybe i can save Earth !”.

A small little voice inside of him asked if he wasnt completely insane and delusionnal and wasnt inventing himself a mission to prove he wasnt worthless. He shut the voice. He was Cosmos ! He would talk to the alien. Peoples would remember him, they would remember because they would survive !

………………….

He spend weeks into trying to imitate the complex alien sound wave. This was so fast, so evoluated, and yet, the data was speaking a perfect english ? How was it possible ?

He frowned.

“Try again buddy, your Alien is going to be bored of you”.

He was calling the very small message he recieved ‘His Alien’ and wrote several copy of what it was saying on papiers and pinged these on the walls. Like a serial killer.

His own message, “Are you another sentient life form ? My name is Cosmos”

Wasnt definitely as professionnal as he would make himself believe, but he was trying to convert it to the same kind of radio wave as he recieved.

He has to remember how he translated the message in the first time.

And invert the protocol.

But his FSK modulator was simply not strong enough. He had to power down a few things. Useless things absolutely. And only for a few seconds. Nothing too dangerous about that. He definitely wasnt a small human in the middle of uncooperative environment.

The man inspired deeply and started his protocol, disabling the lights of the station, and preserving the oxygene system at all cost, along with the pressurisation system and basically all life preserving systems.

It worked. He had his message. He could send him via the FSK modulator.

He pressed the button and smiled deeply. He just send a message to an Alien !

“Hey doc ! Guess who established contact with the Alien ! Oh oh im going to ask him sooo many questions !”.

No answer. Cosmos remembered having to disable settings about conversation in order to efficiently make Doc replace his work.

He felt incredibly lonely.

“Im sorry i had to silence you Doc….”.

The signal of external message ! Again ! And that quickly ??? How.

Hyperventilating, Cosmos giggled to himself and turned to the modulator. The translating part was much easier now that he did it one time.

“Designation : Soundwave”. “Query to Cosmos : why answering ?” “Procedure of making further noise : susceptible to increase the attention of {QQZERRTEAAASS}”.

Oh, so his Alien was really a Soundwave. That was his name…. Funny.

The Kaijus again ? And this weird speaking manner again ? He thought for a couple of second about an adequate answer…But there werent any established protocol in case of contact with intelligent aliens. The Kaijus couldnt speak with them. They tried, so this meaned Cosmos was doing that freely. Nobody knew, nobody done that before. He was free to speak to the Alien as unprofesionnal as he wanted. He could tell his governement later.

“The Quiizertas ? Already noticed us. And attacked, more or less sound wont change anything about that”.

The answer was quicker again

“Prononciation of opposant : incorrect”. “Reading : /’kwin:n'te'zau:n/”. “Status planet ?”

The voice asked. And using the phonetical alphabet with that ?? Where did an Alien learned that ??

Cosmos bit his lips and answered, with an intensified apprehension.

“Planet uuuh. Under attack. Of the Quintessons” He translated with his own vocabulary, excited at the idea of inventing a new word. “Resisting with our technology but its barely enough. We need help”.

“Earth : very small” “efficiency of resistance : surprisingly high”. “Soundwave : cannot provide help at the moment. But i need to understand what is making your fight against quintessons fair”.

Cosmos blinked in front of his modulator.

“What ? Fair ??? We are being destroyed here and he call that a fair fight ?”. He paused. He had more conversation with this Soundwave than with any human being since Jazz. He might getting attached to the outer life form if he kept answering his question with fairness.

“Cosmos, stop. He could look like a pudding, or even not being material”.

Right. The name was Soundwave, the alien could be only made of sound waves.

He could also be a Xenomorph and lay eggs on him at the first occasion. The young astronaut didnt want to die with his stomach perforated !!! It looked very painful in the movies….

“Hoping its a E.T. kind of alien….”

“Are you hostile to my planet or kind ?”.

He shyly asked. Kai- Quintessons were enough trouble for his ‘small’ planet. Oh god it was his new favorite word ! He invented it. Well….technically he just translated with his own alphabet the phonetical alphabet Soundwave gave him. Hm.

His answer was quick.

“Your Specie : dont seems hostile towards our kind”. “Conflict : not wanted”.

Well that was positive at least.

“Is it some kind of space alliance ?”

The answer arrived later than the others times, and for a couple of stressful minutes, Cosmos feared that all of that was just a dream. Wich was possible, considering how he ate the whole pack of his last cookies last night. Maybe he was sick. At this moment, the answer arrived at his ears.

“Alliance : would benefit both of our planets. What is your status among your specie ?”.

Cosmos took some times to take off the headphone and start a gravity-free dance of victory.

“i….made….an alliance….with a fricking alien….!”

Or maybe the Alien would suck all of his internal organes out of his body and lay eggs on his brain. Maybe.

But, but maybe he would save all of them from the Kaiju, and they would befriend their specie ! Yeah. More probable. And Cosmos would be the first human to have made contact with them ! So they would like him. Soundwave might be as excited as himself was to discover another specie ! He would listen everything, because data about alien was a common source of enjoyment. He wouldnt even have to say something interesting !

Cosmos reached Doc's screen and yelled at him with a joyful tone.

“Doc ! Guess who just made the first pacific contact with another life form ! From another planet ! Perhaps even galaxy !”.

All full of wonders and lively, Cosmos answered Soundwave again.

What was the question ? Ah yes, “statut among specie”.

“I am erm…..Space Explorer. And Responsible of all communications to report and locate the Kai….Quintessons”.

He tried to make his post sound cool and not ‘im just a guy assisting an AI far more developped than me and honestly i feel useless”.

“Soundwave's statut : Communication and Information Officer among Cybertronian's forces”.

That sounded very military. The good or bad side of this information was debatable. On one hand it was surely better than just have Soundwave as an ally. But an Alien army ? It was more dangereous than just innocently talking to Soundwave… For a random reason, he had the impression the word ‘among’ has been twisted a little in comparaison of the otherwise perfect pronounciation of Soundwave's voice.

“Great i suppose. This mean we are kind of similar in statut….?” “By the way…..”

He cut himself at the middle of his answer, thinking about it before answering. What was the most pressing question about the extraterrestrial being at the other side of his spatial Phone ?

Wait. He had it.

“How do you speak exactly the same language as me ?”

That was a question. For the first time since the recieving of that first call, Cosmos wondered if someone was just playing with him since the beginning, making him look like a fool for his own distraction. Wont be the first time. Was Soundwave an Alien ? What stupide name was even Soundwave ? The answer stopped his spiraling.

“Soundwave : recieved radio wave from your planet : cracked the language code. Very interested on a large panel of codes and language, find the understanding of foreign dialects : very stimulating”.

Oh funny one, Soundwave considered his language like a code to break. The Alien was very interesting, and wait a sec

“Your heard the radio waves ? But you must be very far from Earth, the waves must have distorded every sound and mixing with others space sounds”.

“Soundwave : is a great listener”.

What did he meant by that ? But another voice line could be heard now.

“But data from radio waves : insufficient”. “Interfacing with local technology : optimal for the comprehension of your successful resistance”.

Interfacing ?

“You want to come here ? To Earth”.

“Yes”.

That last message was very short but awakened an insatiable curiosity in the Astronaut's heart.

“Oh my god my Alien is going to visit us” he whispered with joy.

One last question, because he felt brave.

“May i continue asking you questions while you uh…..travel to my planet ?”.

“Soundwave : is a great listener. And is feeling curiosity towards your specie”.

The voice repeated his phrasing “May I ask you questions ?”.

And Cosmos's loneliness slowly faded away.

——————————————————————————————

Annnd here is my little Cosmonaute <3 had to make a design for him

Welcome to the ginger club, blorbo.

Soundwave’s is coming soon he will look like his TF One self, with some modifications, in order to effectively hide himself from Earthling that are more Earthling than Cosmos hehe….because tf1 Soundwave is some sort of space ship. It’s not very useful when you want to hide from our paranoid society

(You guys will like it !!)

Ps : Hi Keferon ! I know you don’t necessarily seek for the ramifications of your AU if it doesn’t connect with you but I hope you will like this little story/introduction to my sweet platonic space chilling ship)