#also might do a sequel to explain readers past...... so look out for that;)

[elvisabutler]

my lover stands on golden sands

summary: a long deserved vacation to hawai‘i is filled with swimming despite your true desire to just stay in bed. fandom: elvis ( 2022 ) | elvis presley | austin butler pairing: elvis presley x female reader, past elvis presley x priscilla presley implied/referenced rating: t-ish. word count: 2467 warnings: minor poor health mentions in relation to pregnancy. pregnancy. a lot of seal talk. a lot of sealness. lisa marie is a minor character in this. blink and you miss it pregnancy/breeding kink from elvis. this is honestly pretty fluffy y'all. author’s note: consider this an epilogue of sorts? basically when i first wrote the fic @oh-kurva wanted a sequel and then some of y'all requested stuff for my 1k gala so this turned into less of a sequel and just more a epilogue/another one shot for them. genuinely i'm still delighted any of y'all liked the original fic, let alone this one and i may write more for them potentially because i do enjoy them. and hey, if y'all ever want more before i come up with something, my askbox is usually always open to requests. also you can read this as austin butler's elvis or real elvis, i left it nebulous enough, i think. also time frame is probably 73-75 elvis, but that pic in the moodboard is secretly my kryptonite so it had to be used. also if you want to be on my taglist for anything, click here and fill the form out. responses are anonymous when it comes to me getting your email. or you can just message me your preferences. i'm easy either way.

You hate to admit it but Elvis had been right this morning as he watched you struggle to get out of bed, the combination of nausea and your not insubstantial stomach making it so that the idea of spending your vacation in bed while him and Lisa and members of the Mafia frolicked sounded like such a charming plan. A charming plan Elvis caught onto the second he saw you burrowing deeper into the covers. He's gentle in the way he attempts to almost ambush you with his plans, his hand moving to rub at the swell of your belly, marveling at how he feels the faintest of kicks.

"Ya ain't tryin' to go back to sleep on me, are ya? Gonna bail on me and yittle Yisa? She's been lookin' forward to swimmin' with us. Said she's been practicin' her shiftin'." His tone is light but when you look at him the concern and worry's written all over his face. You aren't young and he knows you've been getting more and more tired as the months go on.

"I can't get up," you try to argue, not wanting to explain that you feel almost as if a bus has run you over and how the idea of heaving your body up into a sitting- let alone standing position has your stomach threatening to upend itself. "Just feeling a little tired and sick to my stomach, Elvis. Nothing to worry about."

"When's t'last time ya went swimmin', darlin'?" He asks, still rubbing soft circles against your stomach. "Might help a lil."

Selkie pregnancies are weird that way, sometimes it's fine to remain on land for all nine months while other times it ought to be doctor's orders for you to be in water as often as you can. Your doctor doesn't know how to deal with a supernatural pregnancy like this but he trusts the man with your life. So you and Elvis have been having to play it by ear. If he was a betting man, he'd say that his own issues with his skin and shifting and being away from water for so long has the baby growing inside of you craving the sea or some form of water. He's noticed how you relax in the tub more often than you ever had before and that it helps you. You've been here at least few days and while the two of you had showered multiple times he had yet to see you floating in any form of water.

"Before we left Memphis," you answer looking more than a bit chagrined, "didn't mean to, just we were having fun doing other things and-"

He cuts you off by sliding down your body till his face is eye level with your stomach. He places a series of kisses to it, chuckling lowly as each one is followed by a kick and a grunt from you. He doesn't say a word until you move to grab the sides of his face, "now lookat ya. Achin' and feelin' like a pile of dead weight. Ain't ya always double checkin' I at least go in a hotel pool when I'm tourin' without ya? Meanwhile here ya are forgettin' you got a bit o'me in ya. Forgettin' they need the water too. Gonna do wonders for that back of yours alone."

The embarrassment over him knowing without a single question which parts of your body are aching has you face warming and has you looking away from him as he moves to sit back up. "Feelin' embarrassed are ya? Gonna let me take ya outside in that lil' swimsuit of yours? Swim with ya step daughter and me?"

An argument is on the tip of your tongue but as you look at his expectant face and hear what you swear is a little tiny knock at the door that can only be from Lisa you let out a sigh. "Help me get up then, my big strong selkie. Can't roll out of bed otherwise. Hell, you'll probably have to help me get dressed too."

"Actin' like that's a damn chore for me. Up n'at'em, seal wife," he murmurs, standing up before holding out his arm for you to use as leverage. "Ya packed the bikini or the one piece?"

Much to Elvis's- or lil Elvis's distress you had packed the one piece swimsuit. Something about not wanting to show off everything which Elvis found to be complete bullshit because you looked like a damn queen pregnant and full of life but he wasn't about to argue just this once about it. It had taken about 30 minutes for you to get fully ready, a period of time that had Lisa coming into your room and half tackling you and Elvis with a hug. You're pretty sure if her boundless energy had been fully directed toward you that you and your bump would have been on the floor. She doesn't question Elvis shooing you into the bathroom so that he can get on your suit despite how she's seen your chest before. It's fine though, and after a bit you peek your head out followed by your body and a gasp of delight from the young girl. Apparently you look pretty and Lisa can't help but put her head to your stomach, giggling as a kick hits her in the cheek.

You and Elvis share a look over her head as you gently pull her away and move to grab a robe to wear outside as you leave the room. It doesn't take Elvis too much longer to get ready and once he does the three of you start to walk to the beach with Lisa leading the charge and you leaning a bit heavily on Elvis. Lisa's talking a bit, something about how she can't wait to show you two how quick she can shift now and you nod a little tiredly as Elvis answers with words for the both of you. Faintly you hear Lisa asking if you're okay and you feel your heart twist in delight at the notion of her caring.

"She's fine yittle. Just tired from carryin' ya sibling. Gonna help her out with the water, ain't we though? Gonna show me how strong ya've gotten without me?" He asks playfully but you know there's a mild undercurrent of distress. He trusts Priscilla to make sure their little girl is alright but she is not a selkie and it's hard enough to teach a young one when you're with them twenty four seven.

Lisa, if she picks up on it keeps it close to the chest as she answers back, "yeah, but ya taught me it! And ya can teach me more now!"

"She's got you there," you huff out a laugh as you can finally see the water in sight. Your stomach rolls again and you feel a flutter of activity the more you look at it. Maybe Elvis was right, maybe you should have been practically living in the water since you got here. You pull away from him to take off your robe, dropping it in a chair before walking straight to the water with Elvis and Lisa following close behind you.

The second you hit the water you feel your body relax, the nausea abate and the flurry of activity simmer down to a few kicks and rolls every so often, as if they're trying swim with you. You watch as you see Elvis and Lisa in their seal forms swimming quicker than you can out to sea. You could go farther, you think, but you dread the idea of something happening to you if you're swept into a current you can't escape. No, it's safer to remain where you are marveling at the healing power of the water for you. Everything feels so light from your full breasts to your stomach, you practically feel weightless and can't help the way your eyes flutter shut. You're not sleeping and you're not sleepy in the moment but you want to savor it for when you're back outside of the water with everything weighing you down once more.

The water shifts around you and it prompts you to open your eyes a crack. You have company swimming around you. Elvis's large form and Lisa's smaller form swimming in a circle around you almost as if to protect you or to keep you company. A smile crosses your face as you speak, unsure if they can hear you. "Hello to you two too. Aren't you supposed to be stretching your flippers?"

You don't get an answer in the way you expect. In fact what happens next isn't really an answer at all, and is more or less one of the most touching things you've ever felt. Elvis has been in his form since you two found out you were pregnant and you've felt him press against it with his nose but with Lisa, you've never seen her in her seal form. Before you have a chance to stop him or her you feel his large snout squish against your belly and feel what you swear is an answering kick. Lisa, wanting to get in on the action mimics her father with her own smaller press of her snout. The problem is that she isn't used to it, isn't used to how it makes her nose feel and she lets out a little sneeze inadvertently giving you a small raspberry with the boop. The reaction from inside of you is somehow more intense and you let out a breathless sort of laugh as you try and grab Lisa to hug her. Elvis peeks his head up above the water and you hear his bark of a laugh in seal form before it shifts to human and the little seal in your arms shifts back to Lisa's human form.

It goes on like this for what feels like hours but is only just two but it's filled with small boops of their snouts to your stomach and raspberries and answering kicks back. But Elvis can feel you getting tired, see how your strokes in the water are a little less strong and without asking or wondering if he should, he manages to have you on his back as a seal with you grasping as he swims back to shore. After a moment or two on the shore he shifts back and calls for Lisa who dutifully- for once- comes back onto the shore as a human as well. Your eyes drift shut a little as you yawn. "You don't have to stop because I'm a little tired, Elvis. Go. Go swim, that's why we're on vacation."

"We're still gonna swim, darlin'. Got some more stuff I gotta teach Yisa, but wanna put ya in one of the chairs. Put an umbrella over ya. Let ya take a nap while we do it," he whispers the words, almost as if it's a secret plan before he picks you up and carries you to the chair in question, setting you down almost as if you're a glass doll. "Jus' take it easy. They're all excited 'bout the swimmin' ya did."

As if you prove his point, when his hand brushes against your stomach, strong kicks hit his hand and he hums. "See? Told ya the water'd help ya. They got their dose of the sea, already feeling healthier and they're gonna pass it onto ya once ya sleep. Jus' rest, Y/N. I'll wake ya up."

You try to keep your eyes open but it's as if the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore and the sounds of the Mafia- the parts Elvis trusts to see him in his seal form- are the perfect lullaby to lull you to sleep. By the time you wake up, the sun is setting and you feel a weight that isn't just your pregnant belly in your lap. It's Lisa asleep in her seal form, a fact that makes you laugh softly before you feel Elvis's snout pressing against your cheek and then to your stomach. An eyebrow raise is all it takes to get Elvis to shift back, with him shaking Lisa awake to do the same. It takes her longer, the exhaustion of today getting to her and without missing a beat you move to pick her up. Elvis opens his mouth to protest, his eyes drifting to your stomach before you shake your head.

"Let your seal wife take care of your pup. We're all fine," you say, pulling Elvis in for a kiss as Lisa's head lays on your shoulder. "I need to practice anyway. Can't have you carrying them around everywhere."

Elvis exhales and allows you do what you want, hovering just in case. It's a charmingly domestic scene and you can't help but smile and lean against him as you walk together back to the hotel. Lisa's room is close to your shared room with Elvis and when you arrive there he finally takes her from you and shoos you off to your room. You draw a bath and by the time Elvis comes back to the room, you're in it, soaking before you actually start to bathe. He joins you, his body fitting in behind you with a bit of a tight squeeze between his belly and yours but you both manage without too much effort. As you bathe Elvis nuzzles your neck and in between kisses says two words.

"Thank you."

Somehow that perks your body up and you manage to turn to look at him. "For what?"

"Bein' my seal wife. Taken care of me. Dealin' wit' me. Givin' me 'nother pup. Take your pick, darlin'," he answers as if all those things are worthy of praise and thanks. "Ya came at jus' the right time."

Something about the words warms you from the inside out and you can't help but shiver before you let out a small laugh. "What can I say, you managed to charm me despite everything. What else was I supposed to do but fall in love and protect you and everything else?"

Elvis lets out his own soft laugh before wrapping his arms tighter around you. "Run off with my skin like a villain," he starts to say before realizing you're humming a song that he knows you associate with the two of you. "Hummin' Bobby Darin while in the bath wit' me. Traitor. Least you could do is ask me to sing it.

A look is all you give Elvis before he does start to sing it. You make it to happy we'll be beyond the sea before you're out like a light, snoring in Elvis's arms both in the tub and out once he's done.

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis if you don’t want to be tagged for this series, tell me, i mostly just went through my elvis presley taglist answers and went from there. also if i missed you in this tagging and your name doesn’t look like everyone else’s welcome to the horror of being one of those people who tumblr won’t let me tag.

[theimaginatrix27]

Actually, no, I am going to talk about this

I have long known that Juliet Marillier disapproved of fanfiction. She wasn't going to stop people from writing it, but she didn't approve of it.

I recently looked at her FAQs on her website, which she's updated and refined since I was last able to read any of them. And what she says about Fanfiction is more than a little upsetting to me, and in some ways may explain why fics based on her works are so sparse on the ground.

"I understand that fan fiction is a sort of tribute – it means readers like my books enough to want to create new stories about the characters. But I would much rather people invented their own characters, settings and story ideas. I know a whole lot more about my characters’ lives than I ever put on the page, and I believe their stories should be exclusively mine to tell."

This hit me like a freight train. It's been a long time since I saw any of this, and I understand the author is in her seventies now, so she's from a generation where this opinion was commonplace.

But this is the attitude that is a big contributing factor to why my writing stalled.

When I was in High School, I tried to put aside all fanfiction ideas and focus on original ones. I was fourteen and thought the story of my most complex fanfics at the time could have the fandom stuff stripped out and I could still have a complete story.

It never got past the first book of what I thought might be a trilogy of stories about fairies. I wrote two incomplete drafts and then abandoned it.

My Sisterlands story, on the other hand, has grown alongside a fanfiction story (the fic now known as the Maginite Chronicles). Some aspects of both came about because of the other. The stories share characters. They have grown with one another and with me.

In the 2010s, I got my own computer and was able to explore the internet at my leisure. I discovered fanfiction websites and fell down a rabbit hole of truly wonderful stories. And suddenly my brain was teeming with new story ideas! I was inspired!

And yet, I felt guilty for focusing any of my attention on these fanfic ideas, because I was still under the misguided belief that my original ideas were superior to my fanfiction ones, that fanfiction was frivolous and pointless and unoriginal, and I should be concentrating on stories that could make me money and not crib off other authors' works.

And it stifled my creativity. It stifled my motivation. It made it so much harder for me to write fic, but also my originals.

There were other factors to why I didn't write as much as I wanted to over the past decade. Some of it was self-inflicted. Lack of ideas has never been one of my problems, though prioritising which story to write at any given time is very difficult for me when I have so many in me.

But I fundamentally disagree with Juliet on this here. Others have said it better, but once you've released a story into the world, unless you plan to write sequels, you don't get to decide you're the only one allowed to tell stories about these characters forever.

Maybe I know more about my characters than others do. Maybe I know more about my setting than others do. Maybe there's going to be stuff that gets cut from the books before they're published because it's the best thing for the story told in those books.

But do you think I'm going to tell people they can't play with the dolls I donated to the public library because they're mine! Nobody else can play with them! You're only allowed to watch me play with them!

No! Of course not! That's ridiculous! I already donated them! They were paid for, they're meant to be shared! Like any story is published to be shared!

"That means I don’t encourage readers to write fan fiction based on my work. I don’t like readers to share those stories online, though I can’t stop them from doing it. However, writers of fan fiction should note that if they infringe my copyright they could find themselves in trouble with my agent and the publisher. I love the fact that my readers are writing and I encourage them to continue. Just be original, folks."

I know there are legal restrictions on published authors, so they can't read fic. I also know I wouldn't be the storyteller I am without fanfiction. The Sisterlands wouldn't exist without fanfiction.

Juliet you write fairy tale retellings! That's fanfic! That's not original! Your books are based on fairy tales and folklore, you don't get to sit on your stack of fairy tale retellings and tell us to create your own original characters and settings. My fairy tale retelling series is fanfic of my favourite fairy tales, told in a way I like, with characters I put names to and fleshed out, but that began as fairy tale set pieces! And they also wouldn't exist without books like yours!

I don't know when she posted this version of her views. The website doesn't make that clear. And she's got some progressive messaging in her novels if you know where to look.

But if she can't see nothing is original, including her own work for the reasons outlined above, I don't think I'd be able to convince her now, even if I hadn't annoyed her when I was freshly online and eager and sent her a dozen emails full of enthusiasm and questions. And a few requests I didn't know would be quite beyond her at the time, but I hadn't found all the writing resource websites I have since then.

Also look at the series you've abandoned for financial reasons and then try to justify why people who want more shouldn't write the continuations you can't because publishers won't take them.

[lustresky]

kahit ‘di mo alam [james ‘bucky’ barnes x f!filipina!reader]

summary: After an emotionally taxing mission, you and Bucky share some stories— and maybe also some leche flan along the way.

wc: 5200ish. (might have went to town on this one.. haha woops)

themes: angst (i need to chill tf out i’m sorry:’’/), some fluff ig, happy but kind of ambiguous ending (mayhaps a sequel....), mention of ptsd/trauma, hydra being shitty, bucky trying his best to comfort reader (this is my first time writing him so sorry if he’s kinda ooc..), filipina!reader, also kinda cliché idk

a/n: psa, i do not know how to bake. all i am is your typical filipina girl who has a soft spot for bucky and also thinks that there needs to be more poc centered readers. that is all<3 thanks to @ panlasang pinoy for da leche flan recipe lmao. also! title is a song by december avenue, which i think fits this story. check it out if you want!:]

requests are open! & pls don’t forget to like and reblog, thank you! c:

You hum quietly to yourself, beating the yolks with a silver balloon whisk that Tony had.

Out of all the things that you would never have thought Tony would own when you first joined the team, a full on expensive ass baking set was on the top of the list. Hell, you don’t even think that he’s ever opened the oven door before; but then again, the guy’s loaded, so maybe it wasn’t really a smart idea to wonder what he did or did not own.

Whatever— you thought to yourself. Pondering about what the billionaire did with his money wasn’t really what you should be focusing on right now, anyways.

You continue with the repetitive motion of your hand, stopping once the eggs were smooth. Gradually, you add the condensed milk, followed by the regular milk and then finally, a few teaspoons of vanilla extract. You mix the concoction once more, your bottom lip caught in between your teeth as you focus on the task at hand.

You didn’t hear the gradual shuffling of feet into the kitchen, nor the opening and closing of the refrigerator door; and so you were startled out of your concentration when Bucky Barnes himself ended up in front of you, a bowl of oatmeal in his hands as he positions himself properly on the island chair.

He doesn’t greet you— and honestly, you weren’t expecting him to anyways. You two were never really close; acquaintances at best, with how high both of your walls were built.

You really only knew Bucky from what Steve had shared. You knew that he was part of the Howling Commandos, that he’s Steve’s life long best friend, that HYDRA had brainwashed him and used him against his own will...

Even just thinking about that acronym still makes bile rise up in your throat.

HYDRA had also imprisoned you, beat you, used your body for their own gain. Your stories were similar. Two unwilling and unlucky humans— taken against their own volition, experimented on like a pack of mouse labs, memory and history wiped out to store target information…

You take a breath, trying to steady yourself.

Baking had been the only thing that you remembered from your past. As much as HYDRA tried to erase your history, the memory of your lola’s kitchen came back time and time again, relentless and the only sense of soundness that you found yourself with. The cartons of eggs, the measuring cups, the light dusting of flour all over the table, the rays of the hot afternoon sun peeking through the curtains, the smell of the freshly baked pandesal wafting through the air…

It was comforting, sometimes it was the sole thing that made you calm down. The only pleasant memory that you had left of the simple life that you barely remembered, but greatly missed and longed for.

Hence, before you knew it, you were in the spacious kitchen of the compound; making leche flan to calm your nerves and trying your best to forget what had just happened a few hours ago.

The mission had ended with the team’s victory, sure, but you don’t think that you’ll ever forget the image that had seared itself in your mind. You desperately wanted to forget the sight of Bucky, vulnerable as he lay on the ground with his metal arm torn off of his body, right before an enhanced individual gave him a powerful blow square on his abdomen.

Blood had spluttered out of his mouth, red, bright, coating the brick walls that you were both enclosed in. The mission should’ve been simple: break in, grab the information needed, and then bring said information back. There should’ve only been a few guards. It should’ve been a quick mission— but the sight of Bucky being plummeted with no remorse brought you back memories. Memories that you had tried so desperately to forget.

You bite your bottom lip harder, unintentionally gripping the bowl and whisk in your hands tighter as your arm mixes faster— faster and faster until you suddenly find yourself with a splatter of batter on your cheek.

You groan. Nice one, Y/N, you thought.

You hear a small snicker in front of you and you look up, embarrassed and annoyed. Bucky just stared back at you, a hint of a smirk on his face.

Taking a quick but good look at him, you notice that he had cleaned himself up. His hair was still damp from a shower. It was wavy, pulled back into a small ponytail behind his neck. His face was clear of soot and blood, and he no longer wore his combat outfit.

You can’t help but flicker your eyes over to his left arm, familiarity getting the best of you. You know that you should be rational, but you still feel your shoulders sink as your gaze missed the glint of metal that you were accustomed to.

Bucky senses your wandering eyes. He shakes his head, head dipping back into his bowl of oatmeal. “It isn’t your fault.” He mutters, voice raspy.

You huff, setting down the metal bowl on the marble counter with a bit too much force. You take off your apron and with it, you hastily wipe the splashed part of your face clean; or at least, as clean as you can without a mirror.

“No,” You argue, feeling your throat tighten as the memory and your emotions flashed through your mind once again. You ball up the now dirty apron, throwing it onto the counter. “It is.”

When you had seen him lying on the floor, taking hits every single second, you were unable to move. You had felt helpless, weak... cowardly. It was dumb. You were an Avenger, for Christ's sake. Your life was plenty of danger— seeing people getting hurt had never shook you so hard to the core before. Hell, you survived HYDRA.

Yet the memories were enough to make you freeze up.

Thankfully, Steve had showed up right before the enemy had landed his final blow. If it wasn’t for him, you highly doubted that Bucky would’ve been sitting in front of you right now, casually eating his oatmeal as if he didn’t almost just die a few hours ago.

When Bucky tilted his head up to look at you, ready to retaliate, you stood your ground and stared right back at his light blue eyes. Neither of you said a word.

You were angry. Mad. Furious. At Bucky? Maybe. Him dismissing the fact that you almost let him die and treating your mistake lightly was a thing in its own, but fuck. You were mad at yourself.

You feel incompetent. Useless. You almost let a teammate die, even if physically, you were completely capable of saving them. You drop your head down, unable to continue looking at someone whose life was in your hands just a few moments ago. A life that you were fully capable of protecting, but couldn’t, just because of some stupid fucking memories coming back to haunt you.

Before you know it, a hot tear ran down your cheek— and you hurriedly wiped it away with your arm. Now isn’t time, you hiss at yourself. Baring vulnerability in the middle of the kitchen? Ha. you thought to yourself.

Pathetic.

You grip the edge of the marble tiles, steadying yourself and trying to control your breathing. In and out. In and out. One, two. One, two. It was shaky at first, but after a few seconds of repeating the exercise, you managed to get a loose grip on it. Just enough of a hold to straighten your posture and set aside your mixture, before bolting away from the kitchen and into your bedroom a few doors down the hall.

Once inside, your resolve crumbles. You didn’t even have time to lay on your bed, your legs just giving up and leaving your body down on the carpet. Fresh hot tears ran down like rivers on your face, your nose stuffed, your eyes blurred. Your lungs heaved, just trying its best to give you enough oxygen, but you’re sniffling, your throat’s dry, and your mind’s weary and everything just feels like absolute shit.

You don’t remember how long you had sat there, your legs against your chest, head in your knees and hands on the back of your head as the rest of the water in your body leaves in tears.

You hate feeling like this. Emotional, vulnerable, sensitive… You aren’t supposed to be like this. You have a job. You can’t let your own personal problems get in the way of accomplishing what needed to be done. There isn’t any backing out in what you’re doing. There isn’t a delete nor reverse button. If you fuck up, you fuck up, and that’s that.

Your bedroom door suddenly opens, the unexpected sound making you flinch. Fuck, you forgot to lock it.

Still, you hold your head down against your knees. You don’t want to see anyone right now, you don’t even think that you have any energy left to make a proper conversation. Your throat’s dry, your nose is stuffed, your eyes are sore. You absolutely feel like shit.

The intruder continued their pace, before stopping in front of you. You hear a shuffling of legs, and something being set on your nightstand, until you feel a warm hand lay itself on the side of your left leg. They gave you a couple of soft pats.

From your position, you can’t really see who they are; you had a gut feeling that it was Wanda— but then again it can also be Nat. Or maybe even Steve.

Whoever it was, you know that they’re just trying their best to help, and you appreciate their concern, truly, but you just don’t think you’re capable of talking about something so close to your heart with someone else.

At least, not right now.

Except, you also know that they wouldn’t leave without any verbal cue, and so you force a smile, a truly fake and horrible one as you lift your head up to try and convince whoever it was who decided to check up on you that you’re fine, thanks, and that you just need some space— but as soon as your eyes focused on the person in front of you, your act drops, as the one who you expected the least stared back.

Before you can even ask him to leave, he beats you to it. “Here,” He says, getting up on his knees and retrieving the bottle of water that he had placed on your night stand. “Drink this.”

Wordlessly, you comply. The quench of the water on your tongue clearing your head, hydrating your body back.

Eyes glued to the carpet, unwilling to look anywhere else, you pass him back the glass. Bucky takes it and places it back to where he had originally put it.

He clears his throat. “Listen, Y/N… I— I know that we aren’t really… we aren’t really on the best of terms but— if you want to talk about it, I’m all open ears— but if you want me to leave and forget about this, I’ll head straight out the door.”

“I just—“ Bucky continues, and although your eyes were still fixating on the tufts of wool of your carpet, from the corner of your eye you could still see him shuffle awkwardly on his kneeling position. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you. We all are.”

You… didn’t really know what to say.

Here Bucky was, a soldier, another person who had undergone through HYDRA’s torment, someone whose walls have since been taller then, a teammate who you respected but aren’t close to— hell, barely even really friends with; offering you comfort, a place to vent, a shoulder to let your head rest.

As much as you barely knew him, you feel a pull in you to let him stay.

Bucky, however, takes your silence as refusal. Your eyes catch his legs unfolding from their position, straightening out as he stands up. He doesn’t say anything else as he turns towards the door.

“No, wait—“ You croak, cringing mentally at your voice. Looks like the water didn’t do as well of a job as you thought did. Letting out a much needed sigh, you finally let your gaze strike his, and once it made contact, you saw him. Clearly.

His eyes are cloudy, concern evident in his features. His dark brows are furrowed, lips set in a straight line.

You muster up some courage, and whisper, “Stay.”

Bucky’s expression flickers for a moment, concern turning into total surprise for just a millisecond, and if you had more energy you would have maybe laughed— but you didn’t. Instead, you cast your eyes back to the floor as you hear him shuffle back to you.

He sits to your left, legs crossed, arm on his lap. He doesn’t say anything for a while, the sound of your breathing and his being the only sounds filling your bedroom for a few minutes.

It wasn’t exactly a comfortable silence, some awkwardness from you both definitely seeping through... but nevertheless, your eyes start to get heavy.

Bucky, somehow sensing your current situation, clears his throat��� effectively gaining your attention. Your head snaps up to meet his eyes.

“If you want… you can, you know…” He gestures to his right shoulder with his hand. He doesn’t continue his sentence, knowing that you had caught on to his proposition.

Too tired and sleepy to say no, you let out a breath and say fuck it.

You shuffle closer to his body, and as you lean your head down, a wave of fatigue washes over you. You hear Bucky inhale a breath as you finally drop, the left side of your face colliding with his shoulder.

As much as your body was pleading for you to simply close your eyes and just… rest— it still feels too awkward to do so. The silence is deafening, and as much as you appreciate Bucky lowering down his walls just a bit, you can’t help but let the next words tumble out of your mouth;

“What was it like in the ‘40s?”

You feel him stiffen beside you, and for a moment you worry that you had asked for more than you can chew, but within the next second Bucky lets out a small chuckle. He shakes his head slightly, a few strands of his freshly washed hair subsequently grazing over your face. It tickled.

“It was…” He starts, seemingly finding the proper words to say. “It was definitely a different time.” He concludes, sounding nostalgic and full of wistfulness.

His voice: deep and gravelly, began to lull you to sleep. You’ve never heard him quite like this before, often, his words were quick and precise and straight to the point. Never full of sentiment, never so… warm.

You want to hear more. So you hum in response, wanting to know more about his old life, urging him to go on— and go on he did.

He talked about the memories that Shuri had helped him remember from his time in Wakanda. His secret rendezvous, his childhood with Steve, their adventures and misadventures. He went on, his own memories making place in your own mind and pushing aside the ones that had you freezing up before. The ones that had broken you down are now being replaced by silly anecdotes, wistful memories and nonsensical stories.

Without even noticing it, you find yourself asleep on his shoulder, a small smile on your face as Bucky recounts another thought from the past.

You don’t know how long you had fallen asleep, but the crank in your neck was enough to tell you that it might have just been a bit too long. Your bottom aches, sore from the not so cozy flooring, and your back definitely needs to be stretched. Your body hurts, but at least your chest feels lighter.

You lift your head up from Bucky’s shoulder, feeling him flinch from your sudden movement. His head pulls back from its resting place on your wall. He looks back at you, confused.

He meets your eyes, and it seems that he had just woken up as well… had he fallen asleep too?

Bucky just continues gazing into your eyes, and you can’t help but just… stare back. Thankful for his comfort.

“I…” You whisper, about to thank him, until you remember the dessert that you had just hastily cast aside before bolting to your bedroom. “The leche flan!” You cry out, worried— fuck, if you leave it out for too long it could spoil!

Bucky, however, became even more confused at your outburst. You calm yourself down for a moment, letting out a sigh.

“My— uh, my dessert.” You explain, embarrassed. “It could spoil if I leave it out too long— I need to… I need to get back to it.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, thankfully understanding your dilemma, giving you a nod. So you lift your body up, stretching it just a bit, your bones popping themselves back into place.

You’re almost out of your door when you hear footsteps from behind and to no surprise you see Bucky, hair disheveled and lounge clothes wrinkled. You fight an urge to giggle. The all powerful soldier, looking all messy and drowsy... It’s definitely a sight to behold, maybe even a precious one at that.

He runs his hands through his hair, loosening his ponytail and settling his hair tie around his wrist with one hand. You try to ignore the way his fingers easily managed to do that. “If… I mean if you need a hand… I can— help?” He suggests, voice dropping to an unsure whisper by the end of his sentence.

You feel your mouth pull into a small smile, and this time, you let it do so. “Sure.”

So to the kitchen both of you went, a comfortable silence and understanding settling between you two. You quickly spot your metal mixing bowl from before, alone on the island counter. A relieved sigh falls from your lips as you peek an eye into the container to see the mixture untouched.

“So…” You start, grabbing the apron that you had thrown onto the counter in a fury. You don’t bother with getting a new one— it’s only slightly dirty, anyway. You put it on, tying it around your waist and patting it down slightly in less than a second. “Let’s get you an apron, shall we?”

You open the cabinet in which you keep the aprons and pick one up at random, giving it to Bucky with one hand— your back still turned away from him— as you use your other hand to close the door. When you turn back to face him, a complete look of hesitation is on his face.

You raise an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Bucky clears his throat. He looks up at you, and then at his arm, sheepishly. “Can you…?”

Eyes widening, you quickly nod, ashamed that you had forgotten about something so important. “Yes, of course.”

You walk to his side, grabbing the piece of cloth on his hand and positioning yourself behind him. “Here.” You say, grabbing the bib part and looping it around his neck. You brush his hair out of the way, inadvertently appreciating its softness, as the neck ribbon then lays itself properly against his neck. “Arms up.” You order, Bucky complying instantly. Taking the other two pieces of ribbon by his side, you wrap it around his waist and tie it by his back with a small little bow, tightening it just enough for it to not fall off but still be comfortable. “There.”

“Thanks.” He mutters, turning around to face you with a grateful smile, hair swishing as he did so. You smile, but then you realize that he should probably tie it just so that it won’t get dirty or in the way.

Before you know it, you ask him, “Want me to tie your hair, too?”

Bucky’s eyes widened, and upon realizing what you had just said too, your eyes did the same. Was that too much? You quickly open your mouth, desperately trying to apologize. “I’m just— it could get dirty or in the way if you don’t… and doing it with one hand must be…” You explain, inwardly cringing at your own words and not even trying to finish your statement.

Thankfully, Bucky quickly catches up to what you were trying to say. He flashes you a reassuring grin. “I would appreciate it, doll.”

You tried to ignore the butterflies swarming in your stomach at that little nickname.

Getting the hair tie from his wrist, you desperately ignore the way your hands brushed against his. You angle your body towards his back once more, raking your hands softly in his hair, grabbing it gently and putting it into a comfortable ponytail.

“Thanks again,” He turns around to face you, gratitude clear in his eyes. You just smile back at him, feeling the heat creep up to your face. Thank God your skin doesn’t easily show colour.

You had never been this close to him before— and the bedroom incident (You had decided to label that... ’moment’ in your mind like that as of right now.) just a few minutes ago didn’t quite count as you weren’t looking at him, nor were you a hundred percent conscious during that encounter.

Before things get even more awkward, you quickly turn your body back to the kitchen island. “Well then— let’s continue with this, shall we?” You announce, wanting to just calm your feverishly beating heart and the rise of heat in your cheeks. Maybe agreeing to let him bake with you isn’t as good of an idea as you had thought.

Bucky just gave a hum as a response, and so you went about and explained to him each and every step that needed to be done. Thankfully, you had already finished mixing up the batter, and so now all you really had to do was heat up the sugar, pour the batter into the moulds, and then steam it all up. Just three more steps and you’re done.

“So,” You start, grabbing the metal containers that you had already pulled out from the cabinets before you had started. “This—” You lift one up, pointing at it with your index. “Is called a llanera. What we’re basically going to do is pour some sugar in it, heat that up until it’s nice and brown and syrup-y, and then we add the batter. Got it?”

“A yah-neh-rah?” Bucky asks, rolling the word over his tongue, getting the feel of it. You smile at his well-executed attempt.

“Yep,” You reply, placing the mould down onto the counter. You grab the sugar jar and a tablespoon, dipping it into the container and sprinkling a generous amount all over the metal container. “Actually— I’ll heat up the sugar and then you can pour the batter in, that sound good to you?”

Bucky just gave a hum once more, signalling his approval of your plan.

After about two tablespoons, you put it aside and walked towards the stove top, Bucky following beside you in earnest with the metal bowl containing the egg mixture in his arm. Turning the dial up, you put on an oven mitt as you wait for the range to get hot enough; and once it does, you hold the metal tin a few centimetres away from the top of the burner. Within minutes, the sugar caramelizes, turning into the familiar, brown syrup.

The scent that then fills the kitchen is heavenly, pure sugar wafting through the air. You hear Bucky sniff, and you let out a smile, happy that he liked it too.

You place the hot tin onto a cooling rack. “Your time to shine.” You smile up at Bucky, motioning for him to go ahead and pour the batter in.

With a gentle and cautious hand, Bucky slowly tilts the bowl into the mould, the creamy mixture pouring itself out. After a few seconds, you say, “Okay… that’s good— you can stop now.” He swiftly follows your instruction, stopping when there‘s only 2 or more so centimetres left in the pan before the batter touches the rim. He looks up at you, expectant.

Before you know it, the thought passes by your mind. How cute.

Biting your lip, you set aside the flutter in your stomach. You give him a huge grin. “That was great,” You praise him, genuine pride rushing through you. “Now let’s finish the other ones, shall we?”

Bucky and you then continued on, filling the rest of the llaneras up. It was a pleasant experience, discomfort and awkwardness not present at all while both of you worked on your respective tasks. It was… soothing, you could say.

“Nice!” You cheer, clapping your hands together as Bucky finishes filing the last of the moulds, setting down the empty metal bowl in the sink right after. “Now, let’s cover it with aluminium foil and then we can steam it and eat it.” You grin up at Bucky, who simply nods back at you.

You grab the aluminum foil, eyeballing the sizes for each of the containers. It doesn’t really matter anyway, they just had to be big enough to cover the pans. Within a few, quick minutes, all of the llaneras were ready to be steamed.

Opening up the steamer, you place three of the moulds in— mentally telling yourself that you should ask Tony to buy more steamers so that you can simply just cook the next batch of leche flans all at once. You then close the handle, setting it on medium heat and the self timer on. “There.” You announce, hands unintentionally going to and resting at your hips, proud.

You face Bucky, who seem to be just as proud as you are. It seems like he had something on his mind, though, and so you tilt your head. Curious. “Something on your mind?” You ask.

He hums, hand going back to scratch the nape of his neck. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…” He starts, giving you a reassuring smile to show you that he meant it. “But… how’d you learn how to bake?”

Your breath hitches in your throat at his question, caught off guard as the answer flashes in your mind. To say you were surprised was an understatement. You had assumed that he would ask you when the leche flan would be finished— not about your… past.

Though, you figure that he deserves to know about your history, now that you basically know all about his own. He had recounted his entire life to you just an hour or two ago, after all. It’s only appropriate that you share some of your own life with him back.

You let your hands fall from your waist, resting them in front of your stomach as you fiddled with them as you compose your answer. “Well—“ You start, taking a deep breath. Bucky, patiently, urges for you to go on with a small nod. “I don’t— I don’t really remember much from my past… just a few memories here and there.” You take a pause.

“But— there had always been this one memory, which… always stood out from the rest.” You bite your lower lip, the recollection taking place in your mind, making you smile. “I was in my lola’s— my grandma’s kitchen, dough in my hand and flour everywhere and we were—“ You feel your throat tightening up, making you take another pause. Bucky, still as patient as ever, gives you a small smile and wordlessly urges for you to go on. “We were making pandesal… a type of bread…” You continue, smiling, remembering the sticky hands and the rays of the hot southeast sun passing by the blinds. “It was a calm afternoon… just me and her, baking...”

“That’s all I really remember of her, and so I… every time I feel overwhelmed or every time I’m having a bad day I just— bake.” You conclude, looking up at him. There was more to the story, more that you have yet to tell him, memories that are still hard to share; but even with the small piece of it leaving your chest, your whole body feels lighter, grateful for having been listened to.

Bucky just stares back at you, respect evident on his face, a small smile still on his lips. “I’m… thankful that you shared that with me, Y/N.” He says, and as your name rolls off his tongue, you can’t help but smile back.

You were about to say something, but the moment was cut off by the steamer's angry beeping. You let out a small giggle as you see Bucky flinch. “Well— let’s check up on those lil’ things, shall we?”

Opening up the steamer and waving the steam away from your face, your mouth waters at the sight before you. They looked perfect.

Quickly grabbing a serving plate, you take one of the tins out and place it upside down on the ceramic— it would probably be even better if you let it cool down first in the fridge, but you can hardly wait. You give it a couple of taps, stopping once you hear the familiar ‘plop’ sound.

You take off the llanera, and a pristine and perfect looking leche flan greets you back. You hear Bucky hum in approval beside you as you take out a fork, getting a slice. Turning to your side and raising the utensil up at him, you ignore the slowly rising heartbeat in your rib cage as you muster up the courage to say, “Want the first bite?”

Bucky seemed to be taken aback at first, and for a moment you fret that you might have overestimated and overstepped your boundaries, but a small nod from him eases your worry. Lifting it up to his mouth, he lets you give him the slice. You decide to ignore the intimacy of the moment, as is the heat in your cheeks; instead focusing on his expression.

He doesn’t show nor say anything at first; and you furrow your eyebrows. Was it too sweet for his taste? Had you accidentally let some egg whites mix in with the yolks?

Before you have the chance to ask him what he thought of it, Bucky swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as his lips curled into a huge grin. “Damn... that’s really good Y/N.”

Relief rushing through you at his approval, you laugh, happy that he likes it. Not wasting another second, you open your mouth and give yourself your own slice; savouring the creaminess and sweetness of the desert. It tasted heavenly.

Looking back at Bucky, you startle yourself out of your sweet paradise as he stared back at you. Light blue— almost cerulean— eyes gazing back into yours.

“Thank you.” were the only words out of his mouth, but that still didn’t stop your heart from fastening it’s pace nor the butterflies from welcoming themselves into your stomach.

His deep and raspy voice clearly enunciated every single emotion, and you know, deep in your heart, that he wasn’t just talking about the dessert.

You smile back at him, eyes crinkling, as you say, “You’re welcome.”

[wooahaes]

cold hands, warm heart

pairing: vampire!junhui x gn!reader

prompt: hey remember when i made this post? so do i lol.

word count: 2.1k~

warnings: reader gets caught in a storm and breaks into jun’s house. kind-of pissed reader at their friends. short-lived fears of being murdered. vampire jun being clueless about technology. mentions of vampire minghao as a doctor [heavily implied jun has been around a lot longer than hao]. no drugs depicted but mentions of drugs/dealers in reference to jun calling dr. xu his “dealer” (bc he deals him bags of blood). blood mentions. also reader suffers from hypothermia and jun saves their ass. also like no proofreading i just want to post this rn.

daisy’s notes: no promises on a sequel of just reader n vernon taking jun to stuff at night/on cloudy days, but know the idea lives rent free in my head.

It was a dark and stormy night, and you were a pissed idiot lost in the woods.

All you had meant to do was go on one little nature hike. Something about getting more in touch with nature, just existing, yadda yadda--you’d fight every single person who told you it’d be a good idea to get away from “technology” and “life” this way. Some of them could absolutely demolish you, but you’d go down swinging at the very least--Seungcheol’s buff arms meant nothing to a pissed-off person. Your phone was dead, your belongings completely soaked (to say nothing about you--the rain was cold as fuck), and you were pretty sure your flashlight was going to die too to add a cherry on top of this fucking tragedy of a day. They’d find you eventually, you were sure--Vernon, your roommate, knew approximately where you were and that you wouldn’t have gone too far. If anything, help was probably coming in the next few hours.

But it was still fucking cold and you were miserable. The pains of not having a portable charger (Seungkwan borrowed it and Soonyoung lost it, the assholes). Even then, you were sure your phone was probably fucked from the water.

The only light at the end of the tunnel? An abandoned looking manor a little further up the path you had stumbled onto. The gates looked a little rusted, but you were sure you could pull them open with a hard enough tug. If you could break in, you could at least squat there until the rain stopped. It was better than being stuck out in the rain, at least.

While the front door was locked, you managed to find a window that was slightly ajar. It was annoying as hell to have to hoist yourself through it, the window a smidge too tall for you to comfortably do it--but, fuck, you would rather deal with throwing all three thousand pounds of your soaking wet clothes and belongings and body through a window than stay outside for another minute. Joshua Hong was going to get his ass kicked after all of this. You’d rank everyone mentally later on a scale from “could kill me” to “I could take them” once you got some rest.

Except... this place was definitely not abandoned. The outside sure as fuck was, but there was electricity. The study you had thrown yourself into had books that you were pretty damn sure came out within the past few years, along with a fair amount that were old enough to not warrant a title. Must be some sort of collector.

Oh, shit, that meant someone could call the cops.

You threw off your bag nonetheless. Maybe if you explained the situation (rain bad, might pass out if you didn’t start getting warmer soon because your fingers were going numb from the cold), whoever lived here would let you go with a “don’t come back, idiot,” once the rain was over. If they did, you could forgive the tacky decorations that were definitely not from this century. Despite the modern additions to the home (the books you’d seen, for one, and the working electricity, and you were pretty sure you saw a television in one of the rooms you peeked into), whoever lived here was apparently fond of Victorian decor. You couldn’t blame them, but they could at least tie things together a little more.

You pushed a door open and came into a dining room with a small spread along the table. Nothing too huge like you’d expect from lavish vampire novels where the idiot protag (you, in this case) showed up to a vampire’s house without realizing it, but food nonetheless. But you almost didn’t notice the man on the other side of the table, who had been pouring wine until you opened the door. He softly swore under his breath as he proceeded to directly spill it onto his hand and the tablecloth, before he looked back up at you.

“Who are you and how did you get here?”

You took one full step before slipping on the puddle of water dripping off of you, and immediately felt pain spiral through your body. Almost too fast to be real, the man had crossed the room, coming to check you over.

His hands were colder than yours, but his eyes were warm as he gently began to check you over. “Is it raining...?” He looked up to where the curtains were drawn in front of the windows. “You’re lost, then...”

You nodded. “It’s cold--”

“Oh!” He was already pulling you to your feet, “You’re freezing... Here,” he helped you toward the lit fireplace, not too far from where he was sitting. “Don’t sit too close,” he told you, pulling a spare chair over. He brushed the dust off of it before pushing you to sit down. “If you warm up too fast, you’ll go into shock. Let me bring you something dry to wear.”

He was being too nice now. He went from rightfully offended to concerned and caring, and you were starting to suspect you might actually get murdered. If you were going to get murdered, maybe he’d at least wait long enough for you to feel your fingers first. It’d give you a fighting chance, and you sure as hell weren’t going to go down without a fight. Yet the man soon enough returned to you with loose clothing that you were sure were both not his and picked out in a large enough size that they’d fit you loosely.

“I’ve had a lot of guests a long time ago,” he told you, setting down the clothing. “If this doesn’t fit, I should have something that does...”

You had to wonder what kind of guests showed up here when the outside of his house looked abandoned. The man disappeared, muttering something about having towels--that you should change while he fetched them for you. Despite how much your body didn’t want to move, you pushed yourself to change while he was gone, moving as quickly as you could. Minutes after you finally set back down with a groan, warmth slowly returning to your body, he returned--and you realized how he must have been waiting longer, just to give you your privacy.

“I called my friend,” he told you, draping a towel around your body, and then a blanket he had draped over his shoulder. “Are you able to swallow? You seem alert...” He crouched down, watching you a moment longer. “He said you should be fine with warm drinks...”

“Is he a doctor?” You stared at him warily.

And yet he smiled at your question. “He is,” he said. “He works in the hospital here,” he sat down next to you. “I’ll have to ask him if you’ll be fine with food...”

This man was way too friendly and helpful to not be planning to kill you, probably. Then again... if he wanted to harm you, why help you at all?

“I don’t have a need for it, so I don’t know what hu--you would need right now...”

You stared at this man. What the fuck was that supposed to mean.

He changed the topic. “Junhui,” he told you after a moment. “My name is Wen Junhui.” It was something he took pride in, at least, considering the way he straightened up ever-so-slightly. If you had to admit it, it was a little cute, but...

You blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “Dude, are you, like, a vampire or some shit? Your hands are freezing.”

Which, admittedly, not also the smartest thing you’d done. You’d done a lot of stupid things that day and you could maybe blame it on the mild hypothermia.

He blinked at you. “You didn’t notice...” He said, and you just realized that this bitch had fangs.

Again, not your smartest moment. Or hour. Or day, for that matter. Might as well mark the beginning of “not your finest hour” at when you agreed to go fuck around in the woods “to get in touch with nature” after Joshua pitched the idea to you, the endpoint yet-to-be-seen.

“Maybe you’re more sick than I thought,” he frowned. He pressed the back of his hand against your face--just enough to gauge your body temperature before he pulled it away. “Most people notice sooner.”

Oh, great, and now you were an idiot in the eyes of the pretty vampire man. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

He giggled at you. “That’s okay,” he said. “That’s why I live out here, by the way. It’s actually quite shady--I can go outside during the day and not burst into flames.” 

You raised a brow. “That’s real?”

“It takes a little time, but it is.” He pulled his knees in, looking at you in the cutest goddamn manner--how the hell was this man a vampire? Weren’t they supposed to be creepy? He just seemed glad to have some company. “If it’s cloudy, I can go outside for longer. It helps when I have to go into town.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” you shifted a little closer to the fire, “but, uh... Why do you go into town?”

“I like cooking.”

“But you don’t need food.”

“I like doing it,” he said. “So I have to get ingredients.”

“Why not just get them delivered?”

“You can do that?!” He stared at you, immediately picking up his phone. “I’m not good with technology,” he said to you, and turned his phone to show you texts between him and someone named “dr.xu [dealer].” Junhui pushed his hair back from his face, “Dr. Xu helps.”

You took his phone from him, looking over auto-corrected texts that this doctor man was somehow able to decipher. It probably came with knowing Junhui, if you had to guess. “Why does it say he’s your dealer?”

“Because he deals me blood.”

Oh. Oh no, he’s obliviously cute, too. “Maybe you shouldn’t call him your dealer.”

He blinked at you, head titled. “What?”

“Just... Just don’t call him your dealer. People will think you’re talking about drugs.” You started to look for a weather radar before you showed him the wonders of modern technology and things like grocery deliveries. The storm wasn’t going to clear up for a few more hours, from what you could tell.

“Oh.” He nodded. “I see.” He paused. “What happened to your phone?”

You frowned. “Probably destroyed by water damage. I’ll have to clean it with alcohol.”

“Why not rice?”

“That is bullshit and you shouldn’t believe anyone who says it now,” you pointed at him. “My friend had to get it fixed after rice got stuck in the charging port and it cost him more than cleaning it normally would have been.”

Junhui nodded, making a mental note of it. “You’re smart,” he said. “I think Dr. Xu said something similar.”

Something told you that Dr. Xu was likely the one keeping Junhui relatively modern, in terms of technology. The food on the table looked delicious, but everything from the last twenty years or so... probably went straight over Junhui’s head. It made you wonder how long he’d been around.

“So...” You hesitated for a moment. “Why do you need blood from Dr. Xu? Don’t you like.. feed on people?”

Junhui frowned. “Ah... It’s inconvenient. Most of my partners move on after a while. It’s draining. I don’t blame them,” he shrugged. “I’m used to it. The deal with Dr. Xu works better.”

“Is he your only friend?” You asked, immediately smacking yourself mentally for it.

He paused. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“You could be my friend,” he said. “If you’d like.”

Something about the way he asked warmed your heart. That shy look on his face, the timid smile he was giving you... You had to wonder how long he had been mostly on his own. When Dr. Xu came into his life, who was in it before then...

“I think I’d like that,” you said. Something about this pretty vampire man was endearing. Maybe it was how genuine he seemed to be after all: you stumbled into his home and he was here to take care of you, looking after you like he’d done it before. You introduced yourself at long last, watching the way his eyes lit up at the sound of your name.

He repeated it back, testing it on his own tongue. “It’s a pleasure,” he said to you with a smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve made a new friend.”

Well... You’d just have to fix that, wouldn’t you? You were sure that Vernon would like him--Vernon was into supernatural stuff. You’d just have to introduce him slowly before the enthusiast in him took over.

“Do you want to see the videos of cats that I found?”

... Okay, maybe you already like the cute vampire man a lot more than you thought. Hopefully this would be the start of something sweet.

general taglist: @wonuziex​ @twancingyunhao​

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hi i just read your work and it is amazing!!!! Buuut, if its possible can you make a part 2 of Scraps? Like, the first one was so good... it kinda needs a sequel😂😂 if thats possible

Had to think about what I would write for a little bit, but I think I've got it.

Scraps (Part 2): Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Kakucho Hitto, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Manjiro Sano, Hajime Kokonoi, and Takeomi Akashi x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.9k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

song recommendation:

A pussy clenching, breath hitching, thighs squeezing mess.

That's what you're reduced to as you're in class, the soundless, dual vibrator/clit sucking device hidden neatly in your underwear.

Ever since you'd been introduced to the Alpha boys, they'd made you their personal plaything. And you didn't really mind; it was something to do when things got boring around the sorority house. But sometimes... they'd take their experiments out of your scope of knowledge.

This was one of them.

You were given the toy and told that if you could hold off on cumming for twelve hours, you'd be rewarded with whatever you wanted. But you couldn't take it out, you couldn't tell anyone - oh, and you didn't know who had the remote to it. The device is only controlled by a discreet, white remote, and any one of the seven men could have it, changing the speed or the pattern of vibrations of the device. Right now, it's on a pulsing cycle, making you squirm slightly in your seat as the professor lectures about art history.

You're sitting in the very back of the lecture hall where no one would sit if they wanted to pass the class. But you're content with today being an off-day. You need to survive this challenge, first.

You can't help but think of the various dicks that would be yours for the choosing once you finish today's challenge. But it's only ten o'clock.

Ten more hours.

Around twelve, you're trying your best to keep yourself calm, sitting on the edge of your seat while you attempt a test. The speed changes from pulsing to a dull vibration, giving you a brief break from the jolts of pleasure that go straight to your clit.

"Ms. Y/n, can you come up to my desk, please? Bring your test." You look up at your professor, who is cooking her finger at you. For a moment, you wonder if she's caught on to your little predicament, but when you approach her desk, she takes your test and crumples it up before throwing it in the trash, much to your surprise. "I forgot to tell you that you have an A in the class, so you don't need to take this test." You sigh in relief, just as the vibration changes to a more intense sensation. You tense up, clenching your legs before thanking your professor and leaving the classroom quickly.

You can't take much more of this.

Around three pm, you're laying in the sorority house, face down in a pillow as you moan, the feeling of an orgasm building on top of the other six or seven ruined orgasms from earlier. But you stuff this one down with the others, tears decorating your pillowcase as you sob in frustration.

Five more hours.

_____________________________________________________________

At six o'clock, you're at your breaking point.

Dinner is at seven, but you can't even focus on anything except the buzzing between your legs. You're hazy, staring at yourself in the mirror and blinking slowly. There had been no relief, no naps, no rest from the torment, but the pink device inside of you persisted, making you want to cum over and over again. All you can do is think about algebra or something disappointing to prevent yourself from cumming all over the device and losing the challenge.

Suddenly, your phone begins to chime, and you raise it to your face, seeing "Alpha House" on the screen.

"Hello?" you breathe into the receiver, and you hear a chuckle on the other end.

"Are you okay, princess?" It's Mikey. The vibrator begins to pulse again, and you bite your lip.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. What's going on?"

"Come by the house at seven-thirty. The boys are excited to see you." Mikey hangs up the phone and you stifle a loud moan, trying to keep yourself together before you meet the boys.

One hour left.

At seven-thirty, you're standing at the door of the house, and the vibrator is going crazy. You almost didn't make it across the campus without your legs going weak, but you prop yourself up against the door with a hand, quivering at you wait for the boys to answer the door.

"Little sister..." Ran answers the door, his violet eyes observing your quaking figure. "You made it." You try to step through the door, but Ran catches you in his arms, stooping to pick you up. He holds you against his chest, cooing into your ear about how you're such a good girl, and how they're going to take good care of you before the night is over. You're deposited in the den, where the other guys are, and Ran parts your legs with tender fingers, revealing the device nestled inside of your panties.

"All day, huh?" Sanzu wonders, sitting across from you on the couch and stroking your thigh. "You're such a good girl for us. Kakucho, Rindou, and Kokonoi didn't think you would make it."

"We placed bets," Rindou explains, forking his cash over to his brother with a small sigh. "But you proved me wrong." Mikey appears, his black eyes roaming over all of those present in the room before sliding and focusing on your half-dazed self on the couch, legs spread and shaking.

"Ready to guess who had the remote today?" You nod, breath quivering as you look around the room at the men. Your first bet would be on Sanzu, but you figure guessing him would be too obvious. Your second guess would be Rindou, but he also seemed like the most obvious. So you're left with Kakucho, Kokonoi, Mikey, Takeomi, and Ran. "You get three guesses."

Three guesses. Five men.

"M-Mikey?" Various members of the frat shake their heads. Of course, Mikey wouldn't, he just comes up with the ideas. Takeomi seems almost too bored with you, so he's off the list, too. Two guesses and four men. A twenty-five percent chance of getting it right.

"Kakucho?" He shakes his head, leaning on the back of a chair and blinking slowly.

"One more guess."

Kokonoi or Ran. Fifty-percent chance of getting it right. Kokonoi had a class with you today, but you didn't see him move his hands around as you watched from the back of the class at all. But the sensation also didn't change during the class. You have to take a chance, though.

"Ran." The violet-eyed man smiles, then produces the white remote from his pants.

"Smart girl."

"But how--"

"On Wednesdays, my work-study has me all over campus. Every time I saw you or walked by the sorority house, I'd change the vibration." Sanzu chuckles then looks at his watch.

"It's time, ain't it?" Mikey pulls your underwear off, leaving the lacy thing on the floor before looking at the device, then back at you.

"You earned yourself some extra credit," he begins. "Are you ready for us, pretty girl?"

"Yes," you keen, jerking your hips up. "Yes, I am."

"Good." Mikey slides the vibrator out of you and puts it up to your lips so you can taste yourself. You suck the device slowly, fingers coming down to caress your swollen clit as you suck your juices off of it.

After this, he stands you up and bends you over the back of the couch, feeling a large, warm pair of hands on your hips. "I'm not going last this time," Takeomi mutters, pants down around his ankles. "Been waiting for this all day." You're more than prepared to take his length, your pussy squelching and sucking his cock into you. "Fuck, yeah..." The slapping sounds of your backside against Takeomi's hips begin, and you moan, feeling the relief of a cock filling you up.

The other six just watch, some with their dicks out, others palming themselves over their pants. Mikey, as usual, is standing at the back of the room, watching the scene before him with crossed arms. This is his foreplay.

He enjoys watching and listening to you squeal more than anything. He enjoys having control over six men who will bend you over and use you as a willing cum dump if necessary, like a breeder who requires his bulls to try their luck with you, the lone heifer.

And it's pleasurable enough for you to keep coming back for more.

"Why don't we record this one?" Sanzu wonders and Takeomi laughs.

"You're gonna have to ask little sister, here. She might not--"

"That-that's fine," you pant.

"Just a little POV thing," Ran adds, pulling out his phone. "Make it real nice, Takeomi." You look back and watch the man inside of you point the phone at the space between your hips, watching his cock go in and out of you with a smile on his face.

"Look at that pussy... she's creaming all over my cock..."

And each frat brother waits his turn to cum in you, with Ran's being the most you've ever felt inside of you at one time, and Sanzu's being the roughest. Kokonoi is taking his turn when you feel cum sliding down your leg, and when he's done, cum drains out of you in a small flood. Your fingers, which have been running over your clit and bringing you close to climaxing, are covered in it, and you want so desperately to stick them inside of yourself and then suck them dry.

Kakucho takes his time bringing you pleasure, tweaking your nipples, and running his tongue down your back and up again. You suppose someone else is filming you two, because both of his hands are on your body as he pumps you full of cum, ghosting his fingers over the slight bulge from his long cock.

Rindou is last, and you watch Mikey pull out his own cock, stroking it while Rin slams his hips into you, making you moan louder than you thought possible. He grips your neck from behind, choking you lightly as you let drool run past your lips and onto the couch. You hear Ran complimenting his brother on his fucking, and your raise on your tiptoes, praying his dick would stop slamming into your cervix.

"Take it," Rin whispers in your ear. "You can take it, sweet girl." You choke out a cry, then grip the couch for all it's worth as Rindou lets himself go. When he pulls out, Mikey stands, his eyes focused on your face as he walks around the couch, taking the phone from Ran and pointing it at your filled and abused pussy.

"Push it all out for me, sweetheart." You obey, feeling the cum leak out of you rapidly before Mikey stands, swiping his cockhead over your pussy lips. "You haven't cum yet?" You shake your head, breathing heavily. "Go ahead and cum on my dick." Mikey enters you and fiddles with your swollen clit, bringing you back to the edge and not relenting. You get no warning prior to the orgasm crashing over you; the feeling of release almost taking you out.

"Oh my fucking god," you cry out, and Mikey pistons his hips a little faster as you clench around him.

"That's a good pussy," he grunts, left hand gripping your hip while he cums inside of you, growling low in his throat. When he's done, he backs away, watching you push out his cum, too. "Now I want you to get on the floor and lick it up," he orders you. "Lick all of our cum up."

You get on your knees and lick the puddle off the polished wooden floor, each man watching you with slack jaws. When you're done, you show Mikey your tongue. He approaches you, grabs your throat, and spits in it, closing your mouth as you swallow that, too.

"Such a good little slut, aren't you?"

[watchmegetobsessed]

A STEP FURTHER

Sequel to SIT ON ME

a/n: as per requested, here is a part two to my recent sebastian fic! hope you guys will like it as much as you did the previous part! also, there’s not gonna be any more parts!

pairing: Sebastian Stan X Assistant!Reader

word count: 3k

masterlist

You were expecting it. You knew how the internet and most importantly, Sebastian’s fans work. Just hours after the event, dozens of videos got out of Sebastian saying that he wanted you to sit on him if he was a chair, an answer to a highly inappropriate question that shouldn’t have been asked in the first place, but your crazy ass boss thought otherwise.

It washed over the whole fandom and soon enough everyone was talking about the two of you. And because part of your job is to be up to date about Sebastian’s media presence, you had to face not just him but yourself all over the internet. Fans started to dig up every tiny interaction between the two of you caught on camera, they posted photo montages of you and him just out and about or going from one meeting to the other. They started to look for signs that you’re dating and half of the fandom became convinced that you’re in a secret relationship. Speculations and rumors spread faster than wildfire and there was no way to stop it, you just had to live with it.

In the meanwhile, Sebastian didn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. It’s like he didn’t even acknowledge the fuss about the two of you, like it was all so natural and normal to be seen as a couple by the whole world when you were just his employee.

“What? It’s not like I ever addressed anything about my dating life,” he shrugged one day when you asked him why he is not caring about the situation at all. And that was pretty much it.

The fans wouldn’t have been that big of a deal to you either. They are strangers, they always get fixated on something and soon enough you knew something new would come up and make them forget about your existence. The people close to you on the other hand are a whole different side of the story.

Following the event, Mackie wouldn’t shut up about Sebastian being hopelessly in love with you and he would nag you to go on a date already, getting on your nerves even more than he usually does with his nosiness. You love the man, you really do, but he needs to learn how to stay in his own lane.

And then, slowly but surely every friend you and Sebastian shared caught up on the story and they started asking you about it again and again and you had to tell them the same thing every damn time: you and Sebastian were working together, no romance was involved between the two of you.

No one believed you.

Now it’s been weeks and people still go crazy whenever you and Seb step out together, which happens quite often since he’s been having a busy month work-wise. Paparazzi are always following you around, catching every moment you spend out in the public, putting you on the tabloids nonstop. It’s become your usual.

Another day, another event. The day starts early for you before you pick Sebastian up and heading out to have breakfast before you are supposed to show up at the concert hall that’s going to be the venue of today’s interview and Q&A.

“Mackie has been blowing my phone up all morning,” you grumble upon seeing another text from said man before you just turn your phone screen facing down so you can finish your toast in peace.

“What does he want?” Sebastian hums.

“He is asking if I’m coming today, as if I missed any events these past weeks,” you huff shaking your head.

“He has been acting weird,” Sebastian grimaces, reaching for his coffee. “Weirder than his usual,” he adds.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, he just asks weird stuff,” he shrugs, not paying much attention to it and you decide to do the same.

Not much later, you’re finished with your food, only sipping on your coffee when you spot a group of girls near your table, their phones pointing in your direction and you have to stop yourself from growling, turning a little so you’re not facing the phones entirely. Sebastian notices your discomfort and looking around he spots the girls as well before turning back to face you. He doesn’t say a word, just gets up from his seat and strides over to the group as you watch him with wide eyes.

“Hi girls, can I ask you to delete the pictures you took, please? I’m happy to take selfies with you, just please don’t post the ones of us eating, okay?” you hear him ask them, leaving you completely speechless. Luckily, the girls are happy to obligate and he quickly poses for pictures with all of them before joining you back at the table.

“Why did you do that?” you ask him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You clearly didn’t like that they took pictures of us and I know you don’t like how we are being talked about recently, so I thought I would… try to help about that a little,” he shrugs, finishing the rest of his coffee.

“I just don’t like that everyone is in our business,” you sigh, folding your arms on your chest as you lean back in your seat.

“So we have business? Together?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at you over the table.

“That’s not how I… We talked about this, Seb,” you breathe out, your shoulders falling forward.

“Ages ago. Things might have changed since then,” he suggests shrugging his shoulder.

“I still work for you,” you point it out. “Things are better this way.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” he mumbles, clearly hurt by your words, but there’s not much you can do against it. “Let’s go, I don’t want Mackie to be up in my ass for being late,” he sighs, leaving the money on the table that most likely covers both your meals and a fat tip as well.

The car ride to the venue is silent, but not in the comfortable way it sometimes is. It’s awkward and you keep glancing at him, trying to find the right words but you’re not even sure what you want to tell him.

I’m sorry we work together so we can’t date? I’m sorry I keep rejecting you? I’m sorry I’m afraid if we go any further than this it will ruin our friendship?

You have absolutely no idea how to deal with it, so you just stay silent, right until you arrive to the venue. Before Seb could get out of the car you speak up.

“Are you mad at me now?” you ask, biting into your bottom lip.

“I’m not mad, Y/N. I don’t think I could ever be mad at you,” he truthfully answers, his eyes only falling on you after he has spoken.

“But there’s something, I can tell.”

“I’m just a little frustrated, is all.”

“Because of what people say about us?” you make a guess.

“Because there’s this unsaid situation between us and you just don’t let me address it. You don’t want to talk about it and whenever it’s brought up, you just shut the door right at my face,” he explains and with each spoken word, you feel worse and worse.

“It’s a complicated situation,” you breathe out.

“It’s not,” he retorts. “Do you not like me?”

“Of course I like you!”

“Okay, I like you too so why can’t we be more than just friends?”

“Because we are not just friends. I’m working for you, it’s a different situation!”

“Y/N, this is not an office job, there’s no HR, no policies, we can do whatever we want!” he chuckles bitterly as you keep your eyes down. You don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s not just because of work, but because you’re terribly afraid of being a disappointment to him if you eventually give it a try.

Your silence doesn’t amuses Sebastian and you don’t have time to rave any longer about the situation.

“Forget it, sorry I brought it up again. Let’s just… get over with this thing,” he mumbles before getting out of the car.

You move around each other like strangers, he is clearly avoiding to even look at you and you’re feeling guilty even though you don’t think you have a reason to. Still, you hate seeing him this upset, especially when it’s because of you.

The change in your act is not that evident, but Mackie immediately notices it. When you walk past him he grabs your wrist and pulls you aside.

“What the hell is going on?” he asks with wide, curious eyes.

“What are you talking about?” you retort, acting innocent, but there’s a reason why you didn’t become an actress, you suck at even lying.

“You and Seb are acting like a divorcing couple!” he whisper-yells. Pursing your lip you start chewing on the inside of your cheek as you nervously tap your foot on the ground.

“We just… had a little disagreement.”

“About what?”

“Us,” you breathe out, your head hanging low.

“Wait, so there is an ‘us’?” he asks, air-quoting the last word and you roll your eyes at him.

“No, that’s what the disagreement was about. He wants and I…”

“Don’t tell me you don’t, because I know that’s bullshit. Y/N, I see the way you look at that man, why are you making it so hard for the both of you?”

“It’s just—It might ruin everything and I can’t afford that right now.”

“Ruin everything?!” he grimaces. “What would it ruin?”

“I said fucking everything!” you snap at him, losing your patience that you’re the only one who has issues with the situation. “Our friendship, my job, everything! And I don’t want that. I can’t have that.”

“Dating someone wouldn’t ruin the friendship, Y/N. This is not middle school. Friendship is part of being with someone and you two have that. Just let it take a step further.”

“Thanks for the advice, but I’m good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have stuff to do,” you mumble under your breath before walking away from him before he could get another word out.

It’s not that you don’t want it, because you do, you really do. You’ve been in love with the man for a long time and knowing that he has feelings for you too makes you have a heart attack every time you think about it. But you are so afraid it might go south and then you’ll end up losing your job and one of your closest friends as well. Because above everything Sebastian grew to be your biggest confidant, the person you turn to whenever you are feeling down, when you need a shoulder to cry on, you can’t imagine your life without him anymore and it’s not just about the times when you’re working. Traveling around the world with him is a blessing, you love the little moments you share, the late night movie nights in hotel rooms or when you’re exploring a new city together. You love messing around in his trailer when he is filming, making silly videos on sets or playing around with props you shouldn’t even touch. You can share anything with him and vice versa. If you lose him for whatever reason, you would be left with a hole in your life that would just simply never disappear, because no one will ever be like him and that’s a fact. You’re terribly afraid to risk everything for something that might not even work. You might be a horrible item, romance can bring out things of people that haven’t shown before.

The guys finally get on stage and you watch them from the side as always. It goes as usual, they are joking around, making a show, entertaining the audience as they go over the interview before the question round starts. You don’t realize it at first, but you’re holding your breath as one question follows the other, you’re scared someone might ask Sebastian about you and the shit show would blow up again. You can only hope his answer wouldn’t be as stupid as it was before. But luckily, the audience keeps you out of their business, only focusing on what’s important, so you start to feel relieved. Right until the whole event is nearing its end and Mackie decides to take matters into his own hands.

“I think we have time for one more question,” the interviewer announces and dozens of hands shoot up into the air, desperate to get the chance to ask the men on stage, but before anyone could get the mic, Mackie speaks up.

“Actually, can I have that last question?” he chimes in holding up a finger.

“Uh, sure, go ahead!” the interviewer responds, clearly a little puzzled about his request. Mackie then turns to face Sebastian who is sitting on his right and just by the look on his face you already know what it’s gonna be about.

“Sebastian, my question is: What do you love most about Y/N?”

He can barely finish the question, the crowd erupts in cheers and whistles that he had the guts to ask him about you, but you’re feeling different about his ballsy move.

“Mackie! No!” you shout from the side, both men looking your way. Mackie tries to look innocent while Sebastian’s face is unreadable, his piercing blue eyes are just staring right back at you and you wish you could read his mind.

“Alright, I take back the ques—“ Mackie starts in a mumble, but Sebastian is quick to cut him off.

“Nah, I’ll answer,” he simply says, another round of cheering filling the place and you accept defeat.

Squatting down you hug your knees to your chest as you listen to the inevitable answer Sebastian is about to give.

“What I love the most about Y/N is that she is genuinely the best person anyone could ever have in their life. She is so selfless and caring towards others, always got her friends’ back no matter what. I love that we aren’t just simply working together but we are friends too, really good ones and that I know nothing can change that.”

Listening to his soothing voice through the speakers, you feel your throat closing up, especially at the last part he just said. Chewing on your bottom lip you tilt your head to the side as he continues.

“Literally anything can happen, we could have the worst fight ever and I still know that we would make up no matter what. She is… just an amazing and exceptional person.”

There’s a heavy moment of silence and you’re staring at him from afar with teary eyes as his eyes are glued to his hands in his lap.

“Damn,” Mackie breathes out, making everyone laugh and Sebastian’s gaze rises to him with a small smile on his lips.

There’s no time to dwell on his answer, the event needs to end. The interviewer thanks for their time and as the crowd cheers to them they head off the stage, waving at them until they disappear.

You’ve moved to the corner of the room, not wanting to be in the way, but you’re still not over the speech Sebastian just gave about you. As he appears from the stage his eyes are clearly scanning the room, searching for someone and when he finally spots you, his face hardens as he heads in your way. You’re standing with your hand covering your lips, eyes still slightly watered and seeing you like this he knots his eyebrows together in worry.

“Hey, what’s—“

“Did you mean that?” you breathe out, your voice trembling. “Did you mean it that nothing can change that?”

“Of course,” he nods, finally seeing what this is all about. “We’ve always found our way back to each other, haven’t we?”

“But dating is so much different than what we do now!” you breathe out, still not entirely sure it’s what you should do.

“Why would it be?” he chuckles softly. “We are already spending the majority of our time together, we know each other better than some couples, it wouldn’t be that big of a change, Y/N. And just like how it could ruin things between us, not taking the step could do the same, because sooner or later it’s gonna be unbearable, one of us might end up dating someone else and that wouldn’t do good to us for sure. I would rather accept the end of it knowing that we gave us a try than not even trying.”

“What if I turn out to be a completely shitty girlfriend?” you ask in a whisper as he steps closer, his hands finding your wrists as he pulls them away from your face, holding them gently. “W-What if I—“

“Shut up,” he cuts you off chuckling. “There’s no chance you are shitty at anything,” he replies teasingly, making you smile the slightest. “But even if you do end up being one, we’ll work on it together.”

His hands guide your hands around his waist, you hold onto his shirt as he cups your face in his hands, his face inching closer until his nose is brushing against yours.

“I really hope you’re right,” you breathe out, giving up to resist it any longer. There’s no use.

“Was I ever not right?” he asks smugly.

“Oh remember when—“

You don’t get to finish, because he silences you the best way possible, his lips smashing onto yours. It’s been long due and it doesn’t disappoint, his lips feel soft and perfect against yours, you can’t help but let out a pleased hum as your hands slide up his toned chest and your arms curl around his neck while his hands find your waist strong arms circling your waist as he pulls you tight against him.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Mackie’s voice breaks the moment and as you both pull back and turn in his direction, you see him pump his fist into the air with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Mind your own business, Mackie!” Seb calls out to him as you bury your face in the crook of his neck giggling like a little school girl.

“It’s my business! I made it happen!” Mackie retorts and a laugh rumbles through Seb’s chest.

“I’ll send you a thank you gift card later!” he shouts back before turning to you again, kissing the side of your head.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[thesunmeltedthegrayaway]

Revelations: Robby Keene x Larusso!Reader

A/N: Alright, I'm not gonna lie... Robby is one of my favorite characters in the series so far (I just finished episode 3 of season 2) So I might write a bit more for him than others.

Also, I unintentionally made a sequel to Captivation lol. This was supposed to be a normal x reader fic but, my brain said no and took a detour.

Summary: After finally mastering "the Wheel" technique with Robby. You make a shocking discovery about his mother and home life.

~~~

I thought training with dad would be a walk in the park, simple, a refresher on stuff I already knew. I should've known better to make assumptions like that. My dad was unpredictable, and I knew that wouldn't change anytime soon.

The Wheel technique is officially the bain of my existence. When Robby and I first heard about we thought it was nothing more than a weird dance of some kind. And I at least thought we master it in a day. That was until we actually tried to do it in sync. By the end of our first training session, my frustration was at an all-time high.

I was thankful my dad ended up being stuck at the dealership all day the following day. But, after my day-long break, I found myself back at Miyagi-Do. And for once, I found myself dreading the fact that I was here.

Robby hadn't come down yet so I decided to practice the careful movements dad had shown us. But, I got tripped up and forgot what way the next turn was supposed to go. I heard the sliding door open and close, I turned my head to see Robby walking toward me. He seemed tense about something.

"Hey, Robby, which way is the next turn supposed to go? Is it clockwise or counter-clockwise?" I asked.

"I don't remember." He replied in an annoyed tone. "What's the point even? How's a stupid dance gonna save us in a fight?" He added before walking away from me leaving me in a stunned state.

His sudden shift in mood made me confused. Ever since that kiss, we shared he was fine (he got a little more flustered when he saw me) but he seemed mostly normal. But, ever since we began to learn this new technique he's been on edge.

After shaking off the shock that had consumed me I followed after Robby so we could begin our lesson. When we entered the newly repaired backyard we all worked on. We saw dad in the small pond wadding over to the grass to put the bonsai tree on land.

"Dad, What are you doing?"

Dad turned to me when he heard the sound of my voice and hopped out of the water.

"Mr. Miyagi built this a few years before he died. He said it was a monument to balance. But today, it's not gonna balance bonsais. It's gonna help you two learn the wheel technique. Hop in." He explained casually.

"Uh, you actually what us to go in there?" I asked skeptically, Robby and I shared a questioning look before glancing back over at dad.

"Yeah." He answered nonchalantly.

"You could've told us to bring swimsuits," Robby said in an unamused tone.

"Ah c'mon, a little water isn't gonna hurt ya," Dad said brushing him off.

"Dad if a snake or something bites or touches me when I'm in this thing I will-"

"Nothing is in the water, calm down Y/N/N." Dad interrupted with a chuckle.

I bent down to take off my shoes as Robby walked into the water. He let out a shocked gasp for stuttering out. "I-it's c-cold."

"Come on, it's not that bad. I want both of you to get on each side alright?"

"Ah! Dad, what just brushed against me?" I asked, my nerves skyrocketed when I felt something brush past my ankle in the water.

"It's nothing. It's nothing. Don't worry about it." Dad replied trying to calm me down.

Robby pushed down on the moveable platform in the water before turning his head to look at dad. "If we can't do this on the ground how are we going t be able to do it on this?"

"On the ground, it's hard to sense when your partner is moving. On that deck, trust me, you're gonna feel it right away." Robby and I looked skeptically at dad. "Come on. Get up there." He said encouragingly.

Robby and I pushed ourselves up onto the platform. Almost immediately I stumbled at the edge almost falling back into the water.

"Whoa!" I stuttered out.

"Easy easy, just relax you two. Find your balance."

Robby moved slightly making me stumble again.

"Dad, whoa."

"It's alright Y/N/N, just find your balance. You're all right. Okay, sense each other and take your starting positions."

We did our movements messily, we stopped every few seconds to find our balance. But as soon as Robby and I kicked we stumbled back falling into the water.

"It's alright that was a good start, just find your footing and try again," Dad said with determination in his words.

"I don't feel like we're finding anything," Robby replied as he pushed back his now-soaking wet hair.

"Besides water in our ears," I added, now annoyed at the fact that I was completely soaked in old water.

"Come on, guys. Get back up. That was great." Dad encouraged completely brushing off our comments.

I sighed and got back onto the platform, now more determined than ever to stay out of the water.

This was going to be a long training session...

~~~

We were soaked to the bone by the time we finally were able to get through the technique without falling into the water. But, I had to admit, it felt so satisfying finally nailing every moment I was taught.

I walked inside of the Miyagi-Do dojo to get my things since my clothes were finally dry.

"Well, today was both frustrating and awesome at the same time for me. How do you feel about everything?" I inquired with a laugh.

Robby laughed too before replying. "It was great, I think we finally got it." He said with a charming smile.

"Yeah, finally." I rubbed my arms in hopes of warming them, the cold water still left its presence on my skin. "So, do you uh... need a ride?"

"Uh, no I'm good."

I nodded and gave him a smile before turning to walk away.

"Hey, Y/N?"

I turned back around to face him. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about earlier, I'm just dealing with some stuff at home." He admitted.

"Oh, it's okay I had a feeling I needed to give you some time to cool off about... something."

"Yeah I did, my mom took off and forgot to pay some bills."

My heart broke a little at his confession, no wonder he was so tense these past few days.

"But I'm okay now though," He said quickly, I guess my posture and face shifted to one of concern. He closed the gap between us and pecked my lips. "I'll see you tomorrow okay?"

"Yeah totally," I replied giving him a kiss of my own.

His charming smile widened exposing a pair of dimples. "Cool, see you around." And with that, he walked away leaving me to stew in the revelation I had been told.

I waited until Robby had fully left the building before walking to go find dad. I found him in one of the many rooms, he was staring at Mr. Miyagi's portrait on the wall.

"Dad, can I talk to you?"

He turned to look at me, his face now full of concern.

"Of course, what's up?"

"Do you know anything about Robby's home life?"

He let me sentence soak in, it seemed as though he began to contemplate what I had said. "Not really, why?"

"Well, he just told me something pretty interesting... and concerning," I said nervously now playing with one of my nails.

"What it is?" He asked quickly.

"He told me his mom took off on him and didn't pay any of the bills."

"Oh my god." He said stunned.

"Yeah, so he's been living by himself without god knows what utilities."

I looked down at the ground, just imagining the thought of how he's been living was beginning to choke me up. My face began to burn as I tried to keep my tears at bay.

Dad noticed this and moved quickly over to me. "Hey hey it's alright, I'll track him down and check on him okay?"

"Really?" I asked in relief.

"Of course, come here," Dad said pulling me in for a comforting hug. "Everything going to be just fine."

~~~ Dad had dropped me off at the house hours ago. The sun had set and he had yet to come back. My nerves felt as though they had set themselves ablaze inside of me. So, to calm me down I resorted to listening to music. It was beginning to work, after a while all I focused on was the lyrics of each song I was listening to.

"In a mirror of you, reflections of you You're showing what you feel like inside Need the power of two Just me and you An image that you hold in your mind Sometimes you're wrong and then sometimes you're right You don't expect me to put up a-"

Gravity Kills, Goodbye (Demo Version)

I saw my door swing open making me pull my headphones off. Dad poked his head in and looked over at me.

"Come downstairs." Before I could say anything else he walked away.

I quickly got up from my bed and stumbled toward my slightly ajar door. I jogged down the stairs as quickly as I could.

"Is everything alright dad? Is Robby okay?" I asked I as rounded the corner. My worries melted away however when I saw him standing with my mother.

"I'm fine," he said as he walked over to me. He grabbed my hands and held them in his, he leaned his head against mine and kissed the bridge of my nose.

I smiled shyly before replying. "Good."

I heard mom clear her throat making us pull apart.

"Y/N/N, why don't you show Robby to the kitchen. I have some leftovers of dinner still on the stove." Mom suggested with a smile.

"Okay." I complied, taking Robby's hand and lightly pulling him toward the kitchen.

~~~

Robby filled up his plate to the max with all of the leftovers he could fit onto the plate. After a bit, he began to tell me all of the things he was doing to get by.

"I was about to eat Pops with water but, your dad showed up before I could."

"My dad has fantastic timing," I said with a laugh. "But I will say I have accidentally eaten cereal with water before, it's not the worst thing in the world."

"Really?' Robby asked laughing himself.

"Yeah, it wasn't good, I will never do it again but it's not disgusting."

"I'll remember that the next time I have to resort to that."

"I hope there isn't a next time," I replied glumly.

Before Robby could say anything else mom and dad walked in.

"Okay Robby, we have decided to let you stay here for as long as you need to." Mom said softly yet sternly at the same time.

Robby looked stunned at her sentence. "I- I couldn't, it would be too much I-"

"Robby we're not going to let you stay in an apartment without power or food." Dad interrupted. "We have plenty of space for you here and I promise it won't cause us any trouble."

Robby sighed before sinking down into his chair slightly. "Thank you, I really appreciate all of this."

"No problem honey." Mom said fondly.

"Just make yourself at home, okay?"

[starlessea]

Here Comes the Sun: XXI. When You Were Young (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 5907

Chapter Warnings: Language, Insecurities.

You snapped the book shut and looked up at your class, who stared back at you in complete awe. You laughed, taking in their expressions. The first time you had read this novel, your face looked something similar to how theirs did now. You couldn't help but let out a little laugh, uncrossing your legs and standing up from your seat. Immediately, they started to chatter amongst themselves about the ending, and the volume rose as their voices ricocheted off the walls of the small classroom. 

In the last couple of months that had passed since the takeover of Woodberry, the prison had been completely transformed. It was barely recognisable from how you'd first found it. The cells each had a bed, and now resembled actual rooms. The field had been tilled and converted into farmland courtesy of the Greenes, and you even kept livestock in wooden pens. Best of all, Rick and the others had set up a classroom for you to teach the children. You could remember it like it was yesterday. It had certainly been a well-kept secret, and almost everybody had known about it but you. 

Daryl and his team had scavenged some desks and school supplies, as well as an old blackboard that reminded you of the one you had first written your name on. They'd even brought back a wooden bookshelf - which they had to tie to the roof of one of the vehicles just to get it home. Over the course of the next few weeks, it began to collect books, filling up more and more each day.

Your first assignment had been for your students to create a poster on any book of their choice - and as a result, they also filled the white space of the walls. Before long, the former guards’ office resembled an actual classroom, brimming with colour and, surprisingly, children eager to learn.

"Okay, everyone!" You called out, clapping your hands to get their attention. "Now that we've finished this book, I want you all to write your own short story in response to it."

The group started to murmer amongst themselves again, and you yelled out over the chatter.

"It can be a sequel, or even something different inspired by it." You explained, your voice getting lost in the crowd. "Be as creative as you can." 

It was a real learning curve getting used to teaching younger students. Though, it was a lot more rewarding than you thought it would be. You remembered teaching Carl briefly at the Greene farm, which felt like a lifetime ago now. You never expected for your class to grow to the size that it was.

"I'm looking forward to reading them all tonight before bed." You added, once they had settled down enough to do so.

It was a tradition for you to do all of your marking in the evening. It filled up your time and kept you occupied until Daryl returned. He'd been going on a lot more runs recently, and it made you worry less when you had something to take your mind off it.

"Any questions?" You asked, and saw a flurry of hands go up in response.

"Teacher!" A young girl called, waving her arm to get your attention.

You smiled almost unknowingly. If adults had even half the enthusiasm of children, then maybe a lot more would get done around here.

"Yes?" You answered, and nodded in her direction.

The legs of her chair lifted a few inches off the ground as she swung back a little, and you fought every teacher-urge inside of you that said to pull her up on it.

"Is Mr. Dixon going to read them with you?" She giggled, and suddenly you forgot about the chair.

You couldn't contain the snort that left your mouth from the name 'Mr. Dixon.' You'd have to tell him about it later.

"I meant questions about the work." You chided gently, but the smile on your face told another story. "Though, he might. So make them interesting." 

Once again, you were unable to control the class as they got rowdy, and you just shook your head.

"You don't want him to fall asleep when I read them to him, do you?" You added, as you started to hand out the paper.

The children spent the next hour or so furiously scribbling out their stories in messy handwriting that you'd be tasked with deciphering later. Daryl had been gone for a few days on a run, but he was due back at some point today. Though, you wouldn't put it past him to conveniently arrive home late, to get out of marking duty with you.

When the time came to dismiss your class, you were given a lot of hugs and waves from everybody as they left. Perhaps it wasn't the most professional, but nothing really was these days. You were lucky to even still have a profession given the circumstances. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a figure looming in the entranceway, holding the door open for the children as they left the classroom. It was Carol, and she gave you a warm smile when she caught your eye. You beckoned her in after everyone else was gone, and she made her way shyly towards you with her arms behind her back.

The two of you had grown even closer over the last few months - all of you had. Though, you and Carol got along like a house on fire. She had the most brilliant sense of humor tucked away, and you were often lucky enough to get a glimpse of it when she felt mischievous. Daryl had given the pair of you the nickname 'dynamic duo' - and you thought that nothing could suit you both better.

"What are you doing here, Peletier?" You asked in a mock stern tone. "I don't remember giving you detention."

The woman smiled sheepishly at your teasing, before more confidently sitting down on your desk and stretching out her legs. From behind her back she brought out one hand, and placed a fresh, red apple over your paperwork. You laughed immediately, and so did she.

"I've always been a good student." She told you, with a grin. 

You hummed to yourself, unconvinced. You started to collect the loose sheets of paper from your students' tables, and the woman hopped off your own desk to help you. 

"I caught the end of your lesson. I hope you didn't mind me listening in." She admitted, and you shook your head in response. 

Normally, you got nervous if you were being observed. One time, Daryl dropped by to give you some supplies you'd asked for - and you'd gotten so red that the children made fun of you for the rest of the day. Yet, Carol's presence made you calm; she always was the one to have your back.

"They seem to really love you." The woman added, nonchalantly.

The compliment really did warm your heart. Even before the world ended, all you'd wanted was to gain the approval of your students. Except, that was the one thing that adults struggled to give.

"I just want to make it fun for them." You explained, picking up another hand-written story.

You could tell whose it was just by the handwriting. At this point, you'd gotten to know all of the children so well that they felt like part of your extended family; everyone in the prison did.

"I know they should be learning practical skills, too." You went on. "But I can't let them forget how to read and write."

You were mumbling to yourself, and barely noticed as Carol handed you the other half of the papers. You filed them all into a neat stack, and placed them onto your desk. Except, you now noticed a book sitting on it that hadn't been there before.

"I came to give you something." Carol said, pointing. "Well, to return something."

Your eyes widened as you read over the title. It was in pristine condition, with a shiny cover and an unbroken spine. 

"It's not the same copy." The woman explained. 

You could tell; it was much too neat to be the one you'd brought with you to Atlanta. That one had crinkled pages and a ripped cover even before you had leant it to Carol.

"I asked Daryl to keep an eye out for one on his travels." She admitted, and you perked up at the name. "Thought maybe you could read it to the kids one day."

You held the copy of The Little Prince in your hands, your eyes glancing over the delicate illustration of a young boy lost amongst the stars.

"Carol, you didn't have to do this-" you said quietly.

The woman cut you off before you could go on, nudging you gently with her shoulder.

"I did. I wanted to." She corrected, and you finally looked up to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry for what I did before." 

She said the words quietly, as though ashamed, and this time you were the one to elbow her back and shake your head. She gave a small smile.

"I liked the part with the fox." She told you. "Where he says that important things can only be seen with the heart, not the eyes."

You looked at Carol with a dumbfounded expression.

"I did read it, you know." She laughed.

So, the two of you did finally get to discuss the book together, just like you'd hoped to do all that time ago - back in the warm summer shade of the Greene farm.

When you spotted that mop of hair from across the courtyard, you knew instantly who it was. Well, the crossbow and that familiar leather jacket also gave him away. You started to run in his direction, before you spotted a group of your students and slowed down to an embarrassed jog. The man eyed you, and you could make out his taunting smirk even in the distance. 

It hadn't been that long since you'd last seen him, but your heart still ached to feel his arms around you. You never knew how lonely the nights could seem once you got used to sleeping besides someone you loved. 

You approached Daryl casually, feeling eyes on you. There were people working the fields, and others on the fences dispatching walkers. Even if they seemed busy, you weren't oblivious to their side-eye glances every now and then.

"Hey there, Stranger." You finally greeted the man. "Was starting to forget what your face looked like."

With the influx of survivors, Daryl had taken on even more responsibility than before. He was out for longer and home even less, but you knew it couldn't be any other way. You knew that - but it didn't stop you from resenting the fact.

"Too many damn mouths to feed." Daryl grumbled, pointing to the string of squirrels hanging from his belt. "These people are eatin' like kings." 

You laughed at that, thinking back to the last harsh winter where you'd all had to survive on some questionable meals, to say the least.

"Ah yes, the luxury of fresh squirrel." You teased, eyeing the dead animals strung up by their tails.

You made a face, and Daryl made one back.

"I'll give yers away if ya gonna keep bein' picky 'bout it." He warned, but it was much too light-hearted.

Still, you held your hands up in defence.

"Okay, okay." You replied, sending him a mischievous smirk. "I'm sorry."

The tension was thick between you, despite the banter. Even as dirty as he was, you wanted nothing more than to fall into the man and press a number of kisses to that face of his. Yet, you refrained. Maybe you could get him into the shower first, away from all these people as well.

"Just take a look at your hair, Dixon." You remarked, once you finally noticed it. "Are you growing it out for me? Because I said I had a thing for guys with long hair?"

It hung over his face, and he pushed the loose strands away from his eyes with the back of his hand. It suited him, but he was definitely in need of a good shampoo.

"Yer really pushin' yer luck today, aren't ya?" Daryl muttered, taking a step closer to you.

You couldn't hide the smile that had spread over your face. Even an exchange as simple as this left you beaming. There really was no one else who could make you laugh quite like Daryl Dixon.

"You've been gone for two days." You reasoned lightly, trying to hide the way it actually made you feel. "Am I not allowed to have missed you?"

He tended to tease you about it, so you tried not to make a big deal whenever he returned home. Yet, you failed every time. 

"What d'ya say?" Daryl asked, rubbing his ear.

He'd probably gotten mud stuck in there. It wouldn't surprise you - given how filthy he looked.

"I missed you." You repeated, begrudgingly.

Daryl narrowed his eyes, like he couldn't comprehend what you were saying in the slightest.

"Hmm?" He prompted, waiting for you to explain again.

You huffed and shook your head. You would be dragging him into the showers as soon as he got to the cell block.

"I miss-" you started, before the realisation kicked in.

You immediately slapped the man's chest with the back of your hand, and a smirk spread over his face.

"You're messing with me!" You yelled, and he shrugged his shoulders innocently - like he was completely oblivious.

You attempted to shove him again, but this time he caught your wrist and pulled you in close. Your chest hit his, and you felt the warmth you had been craving. You didn't care anymore about the curious stares, and it seemed that he didn't either. Daryl wrapped his arms around your waist, and you snaked your own over his neck to pull him down to you. 

Your noses touched, and you smiled against him. The two of you stayed like that for a few seconds, just taking in the sight of each other - and the feel. You could tell that you'd unintentionally gathered a bit of an audience. The new members of the community rarely got to see Daryl like this, so you often got quite a few looks whenever you were together - and a lot of follow-up questions when you were alone. You ran your fingers through the ends of his hair, that went all the way down to the base of his neck now.

"Well, if you're not going to let me cut it, the least you can do is let me braid it." You whispered, your face still close to his. 

You'd threatened it once before, but you were more adamant this time.

"Ya can fuck off." Daryl grumbled back, but somehow he managed to make it sound affectionate.

You laughed lightly, and finally gave him the shortest of kisses that only left him wanting more.

"I think the words you're looking for are 'I missed you, too'."

Daryl Dixon was a stubborn man. You'd realised it from the moment you met him. He was the type to stick to his guns, even if they weren't loaded. You'd seen him argue his way out of something even when he was wrong, and convince you of his viewpoint even when you were right. Daryl Dixon was stubborn - but he always cracked eventually when it came to you.

"Don' say nothin'." He snapped, and you bit your lip to hold back the laugh.

"I didn't say anything." You quipped, as naturally as you were able.

You plucked another daisy from out of the grass, and handed it to the child. She took it in her small fist, and threaded it through the man's hair - messily between the braids you'd given him.

"Yer face says it all." He grumbled, his own looking like thunder.

Daryl was sitting cross-legged on the ground, surrounded by a few of your younger students. They'd begged him to let them put flowers in his hair after eavesdropping on your earlier conversation, and you'd said yes before he could even reply. He was a stubborn man, but he was also a people pleaser.

"Mr. Dixon, what's your favourite flower?" Another girl asked politely, twiddling a bluebell stem between her fingers. "We'll see if we can find it."

You laughed, but quickly disguised it as a cough.

"Yes, Mr. Dixon." You chimed in. "What is it?"

If looks could kill, you'd be dead ten times over. Except, the man didn't look all that intimidating with stray daisies interwoven in his hair, and loose plaits that were in the midst of being braided by clumsy hands.

"Stop bein' a lil' shit." Daryl bit back.

Though, he immediately got punished for it.

"Teacher, he said a bad word!" One of the children exclaimed, pointing to Daryl like he was a shamed dog on the naughty step.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure, and watched as the man did the same.

"Daryl Dixon, if you swear like that again we'll have to wash your mouth out with soap." You scolded, in your most teacher-like voice.

The children laughed their high-pitched laughs, and you could see a small fire burning behind the man's eyes.

"'M gonna murder ya in yer sleep." He mumbled below his breath.

You yanked on the strand of hair you were braiding, before half-heartedly apologising and claiming it to be an accident. Daryl flinched, and whipped his head around to glare at you.

"What the f-" he started, but you narrowed your eyes at him. "Frog." He finished, and you lost it.

You let out what was perhaps the most unattractive snort of your life, which was much too bold to be disguised as any sort of cough. You knew you'd pay hell for this later, but for now you just wanted to relish in the power. You had Daryl in the palm of your hand, his hair quite literally wrapped around your little finger. He turned to glance at you, but you tugged again - but more gently this time.

"Jus' watch what yer doin'." He reminded you, before muttering some more underneath his breath. "Are ya tryin' to scalp me?"

Somewhere in the midst of the exchange, Deputy Grimes has sauntered over with an expression equally as smug as the one you wore. He had Judith in his arms, resting over his hip, and looked down at Daryl with a grin as he approached. He was wordless, but when the two of you made eye contact it was hard to remain that way.

"Jus' don't." Daryl sighed, sounding completely defeated.

"I didn't say anything." The officer replied, and at this point you couldn't deny that there were tears in your eyes.

Daryl looked up at Rick and squinted from the sun. He shook his head.

"Yeah, yeah. Tha's what they all say."

Rick watched the exchange in amusement. It had been refreshing to see him so relaxed during the last few months. You thought that he really deserved a break - and it seemed that he was making the most of it by spending time with his children.

"What did you do this time?" The man asked Daryl.

He shrugged in response, before one of your students reminded him to keep still.

"Nothin'." He grunted, seeming to be at the end of his rope. "Dunno why 'm bein' tortured for feedin' the lot of ya."

The string of squirrels had been passed along to the cook before the children had all but seized Daryl and demanded that he played with them. You may have had some involvement in his kidnapping, but you were only a bystander, really.

"Quit complaining, you big baby." You reminded him, before tucking a flower behind his ear.

Daryl had a vacant stare, but it soon became a warm one when he noticed Judith making some gurgles and smiling in his direction. She had her arm outstretched towards him, and Rick lowered her down so that she could be closer to what she was reaching for. The baby smiled a gummy smile, and ever so gently patted Daryl's head - eyes wide at the array of colourful flowers there. The man stayed completely still and allowed her to do it, and you just watched. You wished you had Glenn's camera during moments like these.

Not long after, the officer said his goodbyes, and left with his daughter. She peeked over his shoulder at the two of you as they walked away, and it made your heart melt as you looked at her.

"She's so adorable." You said, to no one in particular. "I want one."

Daryl choked, and you smirked at him deviously.

"Just kidding." You admitted, as though you hadn't almost caused the man to have a heart attack.

Daryl spluttered again before standing up. Most of your students had left the two of you alone, having gotten bored during your chat with Rick. You watched as the man shook out his hair, letting the flower petals float to the ground like leaves from a tree. 

"Jesus Christ, woman." He muttered, looking in your direction. "Calm down, would ya?"

You smiled as you helped him untangle the braids.

"There's only so much a man can take in one day." He went on.

Before long, Daryl’s hair went back to looking just as messy as it had done before, and you once again prompted him that he needed a shower. So, the two of you headed back to the cell block, and you slipped your hand into his to also remind him of how much you'd missed him.

"You never did say which flower was your favourite." You said, once the thought came into your mind. 

You glanced over at the man as you walked, but he just gave a small shrug in response.

"Dunno." He said quietly. "Guess I like the yellow ones."

Despite wanting to spend the night alone with Daryl, cuddled up under blankets in your cell as you read him some imaginative hand-written stories, the two of you had been convinced otherwise. Usually, alcohol wasn't permitted inside the prison - something about productivity and sharing that you hadn't really paid much attention to. But, since a lot of people had just returned from a long run, an exception had been made so that you could celebrate. 

It was hardly anything, really. There was barely enough to go around to get you tipsy, let alone drunk, and there were only a dozen of you sitting around the campfire - taking swigs from your plastic cups. The spirits had been diluted to stretch it out a bit more, and you were reminded of being a teenager again, swapping out vodka for tap water so that your parents wouldn't notice. 

Even so, your body hadn't had alcohol in a while - not since the Jack Daniels you'd all polished off back at Hershel's farm. Already, your head felt fuzzy, and your laughs sounded giddier than you'd intended. You were all sitting on the ground, out in the field. It almost felt like that first night you'd cleared the prison - except so much had changed since then. Rather than tentatively holding Daryl's hand in the dark, when everyone else was asleep, you were now sat in between his legs as his arms held your waist. His chest was warm against your back, and you could feel it rise and fall regularly.

You could also smell the alcohol on his breath, but you didn't really mind. It was rare that Daryl did drink - even when it was available to him. You liked the fact that he could relax for once, since he always seemed to bear the burden of looking after everyone else.

"You two!" Tyreese shouted, catching your attention.

Across from you, the man sat beside his sister, Sasha. Vanessa was also next to them. Out of everyone here, you knew the three of them best. Admittedly, you hadn't got around to learning everyone else's names yet. 

You looked up, startled, and Daryl chuckled softly at the way you flinched in his arms. 

"How'd you meet?" The man asked, and offered a smile in your direction.

If there ever were such a packed question, it would have been that one. It was the type of question that required a whole book to answer - like one of the stories you'd set for your students to write. You glanced back at Daryl, only to find that he was already looking at you. He remained silent, so you raised an eyebrow at him before realising that you'd be the one answering.

"It was really romantic, actually." You spoke after a few seconds.

Everyone else's chatter had died down, and you suddenly felt very exposed as you became the centre of attention. Except, liquid courage always did work wonders where you were concerned. 

"The first time I met Daryl, he told me to fuck off and called me a mule." You announced, like you'd been waiting for the perfect moment to do so.

Your audience erupted with laughter, and you took in the looks of disbelief around the campfire - feeling satisfied with your choice of words. Except, it didn't last long. Daryl jabbed you in the ribs with his elbow, and you shot a glare back at him.

"Tha's not what happened." He argued, and everyone fell quiet once again to listen to what the man had to say.

It was rare that they got to see Daryl like this - letting loose and talking without being prompted to do so.

"Jus' fought off two walkers only to have some chick yelling at me, sayin gimme yer hand like the ghost of Christmas past or some shit." He explained, his voice more animated than you'd ever heard it. "Thought my time had come."

A few more chuckles could be heard in response, but Tyreese eventually spoke up.

"Can someone translate for them?" He asked, and it was then that you realised just how much detail you'd need to tell this story of yours.

So much had happened between you and Daryl that you'd need countless sheets of paper to recount it, unlimited words and a number of chapters. You leant back further into the man, deciding how to officially introduce it.

"Well, it all started with this yellow tent." You said, and the others listened.

You went on for a bit, taking sips of alcohol between your words. Everyone seemed enraptured by you, and it even seemed like Daryl was hearing the story for the first time, too. It felt strange to recount it in such a way, and it made you realise just how much had happened since the world had ended. 

You smiled as you finished, deciding to give one last summary to your captivated audience.

"So basically I pulled Daryl up from a cliff-face, then hauled his ass halfway across Georgia, before finally taking a bullet for him."

The alcohol had long since ran out, but everyone had stayed to hear the ending. Maybe you were oversharing, but spirits gave you loose lips - and you always did have a bad habit of running your mouth.

Tyreese started clapping slowly, before pointing at Daryl where he sat.

"You, brother, are one lucky man." He remarked with a smile.

You heard Daryl grumble something next to your ear, before addressing him back.

"She leaves out the part where she stuck 'er finger into my wound and sang outta tune next to me for three hours straight."

You bit your lip before finishing off what little was left of your drink.

"Minor details." You mumbled.

Some of the men you didn't know were murmuring amongst themselves beside you, but your head was too foggy to make out what they were saying. Perhaps Daryl could, since he had a scowl over his face. You didn't have time to question it, though, because Vanessa soon interjected with a laugh.

"So you're telling me that you now share a bed with the same guy who had walker ears around his neck when you first met him?" She teased, and you beamed back at her.

"Yeah-" you muttered, before sighing dramatically. "Sometimes I question my own judgement, too."

The walk back to your cell was more of a stumble, but no one had to know that. You and Daryl both made it there in one piece, so no further questions needed to be asked as to why you were missing a shoe, or who you'd tripped over along the way. It had seemed all fun and giggles, until you realised that it had been one-sided fun and entirely your own giggles.

Once you entered the room, you finally noticed how quiet Daryl had been. He toed his boots off wordlessly and threw his leather jacket into the corner. He knew how much that frustrated you, but he seemed too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care. 

You walked up to the man and snaked your arms around him from behind, so that your chest was pressed to his back. All day, you'd been craving for the two of you to just be alone - but now that you were, he seemed too agitated for his own good. You thought that you must have missed something, because Daryl definitely didn't seem like himself. 

You rubbed your palms along his chest slowly, but he stopped you with his own hand, and pulled away. He turned to face you, and you cocked your head to the side as you took in his expression. His eyes were narrowed, and he was chewing at his lip like he always did when he was confused. Eventually, he shook his head.

"Yer too good for me." He stated, like it was a fact. "'M a lucky man." He went on. "Why'd ya want someone who wore walker-"

"Whoa, slow down there." You cut him off. 

He was reciting all of the things that had been said over the campfire, you realised - except they'd all been playful jokes, and he knew that. The man sounded like a broken record, but you couldn't quite put your finger on what had made him break.

"Someone's had too much to drink." You reasoned, but raised an eyebrow as you did so.

You weren't convinced yourself, but you had no other explanation as to why he was blurting out the things that he was. Daryl was a big man, and the amount of alcohol he'd drank was nowhere near enough to get him drunk.

"'M fine." He confirmed, but you knew there was more going on. "Jus' the truth, s'all."

The man looked down at his feet as he spoke the words, and you sighed.

"We are not doing this again, Daryl." You warned, and took a step closer to him.

Ever since more people had been coming to the prison, Daryl had seemed to convince himself that there were plenty of better options available to you - all without consulting you about it, of course. It had gotten to the point where you'd snapped at him, almost a month back, and it had escalated into a fight. You understood where he'd been coming from - a few people had gotten a little too friendly with you on more than one occasion. But, you'd convinced him that you were right where you wanted to be, next to his side. 

You'd thought that had been the end of it, but something must have happened to bring it back to the surface.

"I see the way they all look at ya. Like they want ya." Daryl snarled, like he was seeing things that you couldn't. "They were talkin' 'bout it right in front of me."

And suddenly, it all made sense. The men you had noticed staring and mumbling had set Daryl off. You realised that he must have heard what they were saying - and that it must not have been good. Yet, part of you still felt frustrated that he had even listened to it. You'd spent the whole night recounting how you met the man, and how much he meant to you, only for your words to be completely unravelled by words of others that were insignificant.

"So?" You finally responded, more forcefully than you intended.

Daryl's head snapped up to look at you, and you met his eyes in return.

"I go through the same thing with you."

The man was silent for a few seconds, like he couldn't fully comprehend what you'd said.

"What?" He asked, and you shook your head.

"Just because you're blind to it, Dixon, doesn't mean that I am." You told him.

You placed your hands over his chest again, but this time he didn't shrug you off.

"They look up to you. You're a hero to a lot of these people." You explained, like you'd truly accepted the fact. 

You could feel the heat radiating off the man from underneath the tips of your fingers, and you took another step closer to him so that he could feel you, too.

"You don't think there's days that I hear women giggling about you? Talking about you like you're some knight in shining armour who rescued them from this world?" You said, chuckling a little as you did so.

At first, it had killed you to see. Every time you noticed someone staring at the man, or whispering about him when they thought you couldn't hear, it made your blood boil. But, after a while you became numb to it - mostly because Daryl never even spared them a second glance.

"It makes me feel pretty shitty, too." You admitted, as you let your fingers rest over the first button of his sleeveless shirt.

You looked upwards at him, and he gave you a small nod - so you started to unbutton it.

"But then I come back to our cell, and I'll see that you've left me flowers on our pillow." You went on, smiling in the direction of your mattress, where you had missed the man’s presence over the last few days. "Or I'll notice a new cassette tape in my walkman without you even saying anything."

You reached the last button, and shrugged the material over Daryl’s shoulders so that you could see his bare chest.

"And then I forget about all those other people." You confessed, and pressed your palm over his heart. "Because I'm reminded everyday that you're mine."

Daryl immediately placed his hand over the back of yours, and squeezed it gently. 

"I'm yours." He agreed, and this time leant down to give you a kiss of his own without being prompted.

It was soft, but you'd missed the feel of him - and it made you impatient. You could taste the alcohol on his lips, and so you broke away before you became too intoxicated by it.

You hooked your fingers around his belt loops and pulled his body closer to yours - so close that his bare chest was warm against you, and you could feel his heart pounding.

"Then show me." You said, and he did.

A/N: So every time I write a chapter of HCtS, I delete the notes for it from my masterplan - and I’m getting so emotional seeing it get smaller and smaller each week. We’re coming to the end and I can’t deal-

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[kirisaki-daichi-scenarios]

Hiii! I adore your blog, and I constantly go back and read older posts. I know you posted those scenarios a long time ago, but I was wondering how would some sequels to those arranged marriage scenarios would be? The reader has eventually left the boys due to their behavior towards them and only after this they realized they fell for their wife. How would they try to win her back?

original arranged marriage ask

Haizaki Shougo

yeah haizaki’s amazing cause he knows he wants you back, but his dumb lil mind refuses to recognise that his behaviour might have been the reason that you left

the minute the two of you meet again, he reverts back to his old habits, getting irritated when you look uncomfortable around him, grabbing your wrist and yanking you back when you decide that you don’t want to suffer through this conversation any longer

ultimately, though he’s trying to ‘win you back’, he’s unable to admit that it was his attitude which ruined things

(he wants to share the blame, in a “neither of us wanted an arranged marriage but the time apart did us good - you missed me too, right?” way)

and thus, there’s no way that you’re going to get back with him (get someone you can actually have a healthy relationship, reader)

Hara Kazuya

throughout the original marriage, hara had had the mindset of associating your compliance as being the reason he was stuck obeying his parents - it basically ended up in a lot of cheating on his part, and some snarky commentary

but, during that time period, hara had also expected you as a given, so you leaving really messed him up

out of these four boys, he’s probably the fastest to start working towards getting you back; he’s less prideful, more willing to admit that he sucked

expect him to be a little too familiar with you to start with, and too ready to make jokes about the prior failed marriage (you’d think he’d have some boundaries, but it’s hara)

but, at the same time, if you insist on just being friends for the time being, he will adjust to that - and he’s a fun friend to have, so that’s the way the two of you slowly get closer again

will the two of you get back together romantically? who knows. but you’ll definitely end up good buddies, which, given his past behaviour, is enough for hara

at least he has you by his side again

Hanamiya Makoto and Imayoshi Shouichi

i've put these two together as i feel like they’d have a similar response

it takes them both a while to acknowledge that they liked you, largely because having an arranged marriage was just so anti what they usually do

in both cases, they ended up having to do it because they didn’t want to go upset their family, so they blamed your existence for the reason they had to go through with it

and in both cases they abused you to the point you left them - again not very pleasant memories for both you and them

imayoshi would probably take a more casual approach. you know, he ‘somehow’ bumps into you at the cafe you often frequent. he acts like the two of you were but casual acquaintances, and he does such a good job of it that you’re hard pressed to direct the conversation towards a more truthful angle

in his mind, that’s the first step in a long series of subtle gaslighting, whilst also helping you out here and there, maybe carrying shopping bags for you one afternoon, etc.

in short, imayoshi’s attempting to convince you that all your bad memories weren’t actually as bad as you remember, and, well, having a man around might be nice and so on…

hanamiya follows a similar pattern, though in his case his argument was that both of you were both not very pleasant to the other, but he’s matured, you must have matured too, and surely you don’t want to let your family down?

hanamiya’s a mix of imayoshi and haizaki in that sense: he takes a more aggressive approach than ima, though he’s still aiming to manipulate you

he’s also less likely to be successful than imayoshi, as his abuse would have been a lot more blatant and so not as easy to explain away

realistically, you may go back with imayoshi if he’s patient and careful (which is likely), but you’re unlikely to end up with hanamiya again, unless he has contact with your family, and can get them pressuring you as well

but please don’t go back with either of these two, reader, both are all too capable of falling into their old icky behavioural patterns should the need arise

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 12 FINALE

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Nope! Notes: How lovely it has been, to go on this journey with you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to every person who has liked, reblogged, or left a kind comment on this story. Combined, you all have genuinely changed my life. I'm writing more than ever, more consistently, and I'm having a blast. So if you like this story, and wish it wasn't ending, well... maybe don't worry too much. There will be a sequel of sorts, same timeline but new reader, instead focusing on Cassandra. Also oops this is hella long. And mostly dialogue. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato, Pt. 9: Berceuse, Pt. 10b: Hymn AMAB, Pt 11: Cadence

Chapter 12: Cadence (Reprise)

(Cadence: Two chords that mark the end of a song)

Truth be told, she had never expected much of anything to come from this. ‘Twas not that she thought her daughter to be talentless, or that she denied the capabilities of the servant-turned-teacher, rather that she knew just how difficult it was to keep Daniela’s attention for any measure of time. Even as the weeks went by with undeniable progress, there was a part of her awaiting the collapse of it all. How long would this instructor last? How long before they were drained of blood, either for some perceived insult, or merely out of boredom? Surely, in the end, Alcina would not need to lift a single finger.

And yet here she was, at the end of a concert, pride roaring within her chest. What had she missed? What clues had eluded her, what had changed within her child’s nature? She knew that there were hints of deeper affections, fragments of a would-be love, but she had thought them miniscule. Thought that those feelings were doomed to crash and burn, unable to live up to the expectations set by decades of romance novels. Well, maybe they had failed. Maybe, somehow, Alcina had missed something else entirely.

The thought might have sent a shiver down her spine, if she weren’t so readily distracted by praising her youngest child… or by the looming shadow of a life-changing revelation.

“Mother… we need to talk. I… I have a confession to make,” Daniela explains, hesitantly slow, but with a conviction she rarely ever showed. Taken aback by the unexpected announcement, Alcina pauses, silently awaiting some form of elaboration. Instead, Daniela takes her hand, pulling her towards a set of chairs. They sit gingerly, each feeling the weight of terrifying possibilities upon their shoulders. When she at last continues speaking, she does so without a trace of showmanship or false bravado, trading it in for heartfelt sincerity. “I love them. All of this- these lessons, this concert- has been for them. For my sweet, innocent little songbird.” So here it was, the birthplace of her fears, brought forth from her mind into reality.

“I was afraid you would say that,” Alcina muses, leaning back into the chair with a deep sigh. Something itches in the back of her throat, and she yearns for her pipe, or even just a normal cigarette to distract herself. Without one, she is left to metaphorically chew on her thoughts. Realistically, there has to be some way to deal with this, some way that she can convince her daughter of the sheer foolishness of this mess. “Daniela… how can I put this in a way you will understand, hmm?… The two of you have only known each other for three months. There is no chance that you truly love them, or them you. How close can you possibly have become?”

“When have I cared about anything for three whole months? I dedicated myself to-” Daniela is cut off by the sound of the door opening, revealing the rest of her little family. It was guaranteed that they would have heard the conversation from outside, seeing as they were all inhuman, though they perhaps intended to intervene. A single hard glance from both of the room’s occupants convinces them to change their minds. “Wait, Ava, can you get us some tea, please? Something tells me I’ll need a soothing drink soon.” Hesitating in the doorway, the butler in question eyes the both of them, naturally tempted to stay and fill the role of a therapist.

“I do believe my daughter gave you an order, Ava. Don’t tell me you have forgotten the stipulations of your agreement with Mother Miranda?” Alcina interjects. With that said, the butler finally moves, exiting with an apologetic bow. An awkward silence hangs in the air once xe closes the door behind xerself, as Daniela takes a moment to recall her place.

“Three months is a long time for me. I put all of my energy towards both them and what they taught me, almost every single day. Even when their work kept them busy for too long, I still practiced, because I wanted to make them proud! For all my flirting, I’ve never bonded with anyone this way before now,” she says, hating the way her voice gets a little shaky. No matter how much confidence she has in her own writing, it is another thing entirely to be convincing out loud, with a truth she had been hiding for so long. All of her practice had been with lies. Now she had to contest with the hope that the strength of her emotions would be enough. “That song we played together, at the end, they wrote that for me. Doesn’t that mean something?”

“Oh, my dear… I want you to be happy more than anything. But we both know that your ‘history’ is stained with a number of incidents. You have always been absorbed within those books you read, and the fantasies that they provide for you. It is one thing to enjoy these stories on the side, but another matter entirely to let them corrupt your relations with others. As your mother, it is my duty to keep you safe, first and foremost,” Alcina proclaims, sitting up straighter, trying not to let her frown evolve into a full out scowl. Beneath the table, her hands ball into fists, clutched tight to stop herself from breaking the table. In the back of her mind she could think of little other than dismembering that damned piano instructor. Focusing on the discussion at hand, she takes a deep breath before finalizing her point. “You don’t know what a healthy relationship looks like, nor what it feels like. Your books are not ideal models for reference. One- or both- of you are going to end up suffering, and that is something I cannot allow, regardless of how ‘happy’ they make you before then.”

“You’re right,” Daniela whispers in defeat… or a feigned version of it. A split second later she’s making eye contact with her mother again, lips curling up into a smile. “I didn’t want to admit it, especially not to someone as attractive, talented, and charming as my Songbird, but I didn’t have to. They understood from the very start. We talked about it, about my expectations and my shitty behavior, and we worked on it. We’re still working on it. Maybe there will be bumps along the way, just like in every relationship, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be worth it in the end. What we have is still real, and they make me want to be a better woman. I know they’ve already helped me make the change.”

Once more the door opens, making the conversation pause, as Ava near-silently brings in the requested tea. If a pin had dropped at that moment, it would have felt as ear-shattering loud as a gong. Every second that passed felt like it dragged on, stretched out by the tension in the room, as though xe was moving in slow motion. The ‘clink’ of ceramic against the table makes xer flinch, almost spilling the tea. Neither Alcina nor Daniela react, or even acknowledge xer presence with anything more than their eyes, instead remaining impassive until xe makes a hasty retreat.

“Use what you’ve learned on someone else, then. Perhaps another one of Miranda’s experiments will someday provide a suitable match. But this ‘songbird’ of yours? They’re nothing. A human, a servant, they are not worth your time, nor are they worth mine. No matter what words or songs they weave, or illusions of grandeur they show you, you will end up getting bored of them. I’m afraid it is inevitable, my dear,” Alcina says, as soon as the door is closed once more. Then she attends to her tea, with the composure of someone convinced that they had just won an argument. On the other hand, Daniela was not so quick to give in, some of her worry melting into anger.

“How can you say that? How can you be sure? We were all human, once! Even Mother Miranda was human. And my Songbird is no mere human- they are wondrous, with flowery prose and lovely melodies, with soft-lipped smiles and reassuring eyes, and don’t even get me started on how beautiful they are!” She rambles, voice getting louder with every word. All at once it is too much for Alcina, who sets down her glass a little too hard, nostrils flaring as she stares at her daughter. When Daniela speaks again, she does so with love coating her tone. “We have weathered each other’s anxieties with no signs of stopping. I promised that we would weather yours.”

“I only want you to be happy. I need you to understand where I am coming from. This may be your longest lasting infatuation so far, but you have yet to honestly convince me that this is any different from your past ‘distractions’. I’m sorry, Daniela, I simply cannot allow this to continue,” Alcina sighs, hating to break her youngest daughter’s heart like this. There was only one thing that Daniela had yet to try. Maybe two, if she was willing to resort to begging.

“Can’t you trust me enough to give us a chance? Cassandra of all people seems to understand. Bela went as far as to lie to you, for our sake! She never does anything she thinks will hurt me, or you, or any of us. Please, mother, please. How can you ever know if what I have will last, if you cut it down now? Are you going to wait forever for some ‘perfect candidate’ for me? And what if that person loves someone else? Or what if the ‘perfect’ person doesn’t exist! What if we’re stuck waiting for them like Mother Miranda waits for another child, hmm? Would you have me spend another century alone, my only memory of genuine romance being poisoned by the thought that you broke us apart?” Daniela’s words ring throughout the chamber, echoing a damning accusation, somehow more bitter than the taste they left in her mouth.

All at once, Alcina’s heart takes a hit like no other. Her hands damn-near tremble, her lungs ache, her lips purse, and her brow furrows. So be it, she thinks.

“Bring this ‘Songbird’ here. Let me talk to them.”

—————————

Goddess, you are practically vibrating at the speed of sound, palms sweaty, nervousness trashing your mind. What the hell had Daniela done? Last thing you knew, she was determined to keep your secret, even if meant being unable to celebrate with you. But now you were getting tugged along by her, while tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She had said something about “mother” and “important”. That was all the context that you had been given. When you round one last corner, pulling up in front of Lady Dimitrescu’s study, you are shown a sight that somehow makes you feel worse: Bela, Cassandra, and Ava are all resting outside of the room. They appear exhausted, and motion for you to be quiet as you approach.

“They’ve been listening in on our conversation,” Daniela admits with a whisper. Then she’s pulling you into the study, ensuring that the door doesn’t open wide enough for the eavesdroppers to get spotted. Something told you that Alcina was already well aware of their presence. “Alright, mother, here is my Songbird. What did you want to ask us?”

“Daniela�� leave us. My questions are for ‘Songbird’ alone,” Alcina replies, seemingly confirming the absolute worst of your fears. This was where you would die. By her hand, without your lover by your side, after what could have been the happiest night of your life. Of course. But Daniela is not willing to go without a fight. As soon as the words leave her mother’s mouth, she is moving between the two of you, just as she had when she first called you her teacher. Before she can speak, her mother stands up and stares her down. “Don’t make me ask again- there will not be a third time.” When she still hesitates, it is your turn to be brave.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’ll be okay,” you promise her, reaching out to take her hand. Instantly she’s returning to your side, hand cupping your cheek, eyes filled to the brim with sadness. “Firefly… ‘Tell me love, we shall last until the end of days’. I love you. Nothing is going to change that, not now, not ever. We’ll be okay.” Maybe not now, you think, but you’ll be okay eventually. Cassandra and Bela, and Ava I suppose, will make sure of it.

“Okay. We’ll last until the end of days. I love you too,” Daniela says, swallowing the lump in her throat. With one last kiss she pulls away, wishing that her departure didn’t feel so much like a betrayal. She pauses in the doorway, meeting your gaze, unable to bring herself to move until you give her an accepting nod. The door swings into place with a click, sealing the room and your fate.

“So,” Alcina begins, returning to her seat as she does. For now you stay standing, unsure of just about every part of this situation, especially your upcoming role in it. “You have been deceiving me. That alone is a crime worthy of severe punishment, and yet you stooped so low as to do far, far more. I had hoped you had, somehow, managed to teach my daughter a real lesson, that you had inspired a love of music in her, that you had made an honest difference in the way she learns. But all this time… it has been nothing more than a ruse.” The last word comes out dipped in venom, acidic enough to make you flinch. Thankfully, your beloved was not the only person who had a gift with words. More than that, this was a topic that you had spent numerous nights thinking about, making you as prepared as you could ever hope to be.

“You know, as much as I desire to claim that I am that interesting, or that Daniela felt so strongly from the very start, I can do no such thing. The truth is this: Music is what brought us together in the first place. It was the catalyst for our first real interaction, the first time she ever looked at me as more than just another servant or bloodbag. We bonded because of it, and so when we went to play together, to learn, Daniela honestly did connect to it,” you explain, despite the fire in Alcina’s expression. To your surprise, she does not interrupt you, and you take it as permission to keep going. Which was very good, considering that being nervous only made you ramble more. “Music is something we’ve shared for the entirety of our relationship. Even if it’s not something she would do much of on her own, I know that she’s grown to care for it more than she might be willing to admit. And, well…

“Even if you decide that what I’ve done is unforgivable, even if I’m destined to die within the hour, I know in my heart that everything the two of us worked on still matters. Because, like it or not, she is capable of growth, of change, of progress. And even if I die, someone else will come afterwards. Daniela will get to use music as a way to forge connections for the rest of her life, now that she knows it works, now that she knows how it works. And every goddamn time that she plays, or Bela plays, or you play, she’s going to remember me. She’ll remember every moment we spent together, every piece we ever played. I’ll live on in the melodies we made. In the song that you can’t quite place, that gets stuck on loop in your head. In the song the maids sing to themselves between shifts. In the quiet evening when the rain against the window feels so much like a familiar rhythm that your daughters can’t help but start humming along, without even thinking, muscle memories in sync.”

“Are you trying to convince me that there’s no point in killing you? That, regardless, you will be in my life until the end of time?” Alcina’s eyes are narrowed, but there isn’t even a hint of anger in her tone. Just curiosity.

“No, not really. Guess I’m just making peace with my fate the best way I know how- by remembering the echoes I’ll leave behind,” you answer, pausing to wipe a few tears from your eyes. All you can think about is how much Daniela will miss you. How much pain you think she’ll go through. Because at this point, who are you trying to fool with your hope? Yourself, or the people listening?

“Hmm. I think I understand. Now, tell me… what was that you said to my daughter a minute ago, before she left the room? It sounded familiar, though I cannot place it,” Alcina questions, idly toying with her glass of tea. You’re not entirely sure why it matters to her, but you have no qualms delaying the inevitable by answering. Besides, it was a chance to talk about how much you loved Daniela (and you’d never skip such an opportunity).

“It’s a line from a poem she wrote for me. “Tell me love, we shall last until the end of days”. A promise. The song Daniela and I played together… I wrote it in response. My way of doing what she asked of me, I guess. Like I said, she’ll always have the music we shared,” you answer, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“Damn this… I can hardly believe I am asking this, yet I feel I have no choice: Tell me, do you love my daughter? Do you honestly, with your entire being, desire a future with her? Or was this a game of survival you couldn’t afford to lose, that turned out to be more ‘fun’ than you had anticipated? Show me your heart, as it is, bare as it would be if I tore it from your chest, this very moment.” There’s no room for argument in her voice, using the very same tone she reserved for maidens who got a tad too close to refusing her.

“Alright. It was a game. At first. Daniela wanted a distraction, something to entertain her. I didn’t want to die, like I had heard so many of her ‘playmates’ did. I can’t tell you when things changed, at least not for her,” you confess, with a shaky breath. Did that make you a monster? One worthy of death? If so, you wondered if it actually made you more fit to date Daniela. “For me… I just remember her smiling wide at me, hand on my cheek, having just cracked some lame joke. Next thing I knew, well, I knew. We had a spark of something, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to make her happy, you know? All the sudden there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. I just wanted to see that smile again, everyday for the rest of my life.

“To answer your question: Yes. Goddess, yes. A thousand times yes. A ‘yes’ for every smile she’s ever shown me, for every butterfly in my stomach, for every time she’s held my hand, for every breath she’s stolen from my lungs, and for every single time my heart has skipped a beat in her name. I love her. I know we haven’t been together long, but the things I feel are undeniable. I will give her every part of myself, for as long as she wants me, for as long as I am blessed to live,” you pour your heart out, weaving your heartbeat into every turn of phrase, spilling your lifeblood onto the very conversation.

“And what will you do if she does change her mind? If she grows bored of you, as she has done with a dozen others?” Alcina counters without hesitation.

“I will weep. I will fall to my knees, and mourn this beautiful thing. But I will cherish every memory she leaves to me. Every moment where I am hers is a moment worth living, worth remembering. It will be better to have loved her with all my heart for a little slice of her immortality, than to love another, lesser so, for all of my life.” With that, Alcina sets her empty glass of tea onto the table, eying you with an unreadable expression. Something seems to stir in her chest, and at last the mask crumbles. She smiles.

“I see. Daniela, you may come back in now. Do not bother pretending that you have not been eavesdropping.” Not even a full second passes before the door opens, revealing a shaking Daniela, both of her sisters quite visible behind her (though they quickly move out of frame, leaving behind Ava, who gives a cheesy thumbs up as the door closes in xer face). She rushes to your side, taking your hand, looking stunned that you were still alive. But what shocks her more is what her mother says… “Of all the women I have ever known, family or otherwise, you are, perhaps, the most determined. Normally only in… ‘spurts’. Yet here you are, defying what I have come to expect of you. It almost feels as if I have been fooling myself this whole time, falsely believing that there is more than one possible outcome. So, ‘Songbird’, I say this: Three months ago, I agreed to give you a chance to prove yourself worthy of my daughter, for the sake of her happiness. Now, I suppose it is only fair that I do so once more.”

“Wait. Are you saying-” Daniela is once again cut off by her mother, who seems eager to avoid a trademark rant.

“Yes, yes I am. For the time being, the two of you have my blessing. I cannot say that I am entirely convinced of your chances at success, but, having seen the strength of your affections for one another, I sincerely hope that you will prove me wrong. Now come here, Daniela. I never got to finish telling you what I thought of your concert…”

—————————

In the glowing comfort of your girlfriend’s room, with the fireplace keeping things warm and cozy, you lay with your head against Daniela’s chest. One of her hands absentmindedly plays with your hair, and you release a sigh of bliss. Ava had assured you that xe would let Daphne know the good news, as xe thought that having one of the castle ladies visiting the servants’ quarters might cause a stir (and Daniela was far from willing to let go of you so soon). Now the two of you were just enjoying time holding each other close. Regardless of Alcina’s concerns, you knew that everything would be looking up from here. Assuming that Daniela didn’t have any more surprise confessions to involve you with.

“That was one hell of a surprise, Firefly. But I’m glad we don’t have to hide anymore. I love you, and I don’t know how long I could have survived without being open with it,” you say, a light teasing to your voice. Beneath you, Daniela chuckles, but holds you just a bit tighter. Then she places the softest of kisses to your forehead. “I’m always gonna love you, Firefly.”

“Until the end of days?” She asks, in a delighted whisper, grin practically audible.

“Until the end of days.”

—————————

Elsewhere in the castle, a caring mother takes another long, hungry drink from her glass of wine, staring intently into the fireplace. By her side is a silver-haired servant, who wordlessly watches her every move.

“There’s still a chance that this will all end horribly. Only time will tell, of course… but I can’t help worrying for her, she’s my daughter,” Alcina proclaims, gripping the glass hard enough for a web of cracks to form along its bell. But it does not fully shatter. No, it remains just steady enough to still be of use to her. For now. “Of course, you knew about this all along, didn’t you, Ava?... I know that you value how close you are with my children, and I know that they trust in you as much as I do… but if there are relationships or entanglements that I am unaware of, I expect you to tell me, or there will have to be consequences, regardless of your affiliation with Mother Miranda. Do you understand?”

Sighing, the mute servant pulls a notebook from xer pocket, opening it up to pen in a fresh script. There’s much tension in the air, and it only gets worse when Alcina catches a glimpse at what the note reads. As xe hands it to her, she scowls, and the wine glass fully breaks into countless shards. Immediately, Ava gets to work, picking up the largest of fragments with xer bare hands, refusing to complain about the resulting cuts. All the while Alcina stares into the fire, thoughts racing, wondering if maybe this time she could end her daughter’s problem before it was too late. Beginning to brainstorm ideas, she sets the notebook aside. Inside, in perfectly penned cursive, is a very, very dangerous piece of knowledge. The sort that could affect not only Castle Dimitrescu, but the entire village.

“In that case… there’s something you need to know about Cassandra- and Mother Miranda’s lovely little ‘pet’.”

[gaitwae]

Wildest Dreams [|] Loki x Reader

Sequel to Mr. Perfectly Fine

Warnings: 

Summary: Loki remembers what he’s done to you. You work through the hurt, deciding not to rush whatever’s really going on.

Tags: @make-me-imagine @thorfanficwriter @bwemph @myraiswack @rorybutnotgilmore @loki-snape-our-hero @wolfish-trickster @lucywrites02 @mostly-marvel-musings @winterfrostsarmy @superheroesandstardust @castiels-majestic-wings @geekns @natandersonnla @cozy-the-overlord @megthemewlingquim @frostedgiant @whatafuckingdumbass @thebookbakery @delightfulheartdream @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @the-emo-asgardian @amwolowicz @itscomplicatedx @sophlubbwriting​ @darkacademicfrom2021 @lilyofthesword 

It was absolutely safe to say that when your eyes opened, you were scared out of your mind. Loki was sleeping on your couch, his fingers laced with yours. Vaguely, all too quickly, you realized that accepting his dashing-yet-blunt proposal wasn’t a fantasy.

Hurt bubbled up in your chest. Your eyes stung dully as you removed your hand from his. You checked his temperature: it was low. He was drunk. He was sitting on your couch with your smudged lip color on his. He did think you were engaged now, despite the fact that you were quickly realizing how bad that was.

Loki hurt you.

Loki hurt you real bad.

You couldn’t marry this man, no matter how much you might have wanted to those years ago. You never would have said yes! Loki just... he seemed so sad. He had never cried in front of you, not if you didn’t count Frigga’s funeral, and even then, that wasn’t anything like... well... that display. His tears were like salt in the wound, laughing right at you. You put some distance between the two of you. You cleaned his mouth off with your sleeve, wondering how on Earth you were going to explain this to Bucky.

Oh, no.

Bucky.

Bucky was going to have to hear Loki’s hungover insistance that you were now his fiancée. He was also going to have to hear about how you kissed Loki back. You had to be honest. You had to call your boyfriend. There was no skipping over the truth when you were dating a lawyer, no matter how much you wanted to avoid it.

It was better that he heard it from you rather than the ex boyfriend laying on your couch.

You dialed Bucky’s number. He picked up quickly. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Bucky, Loki came over,” you said quickly, “and he was drunk... he, uh, kissed me, and he proposed to me because apparently you were planning on asking me to marry you?” You swallowed, trying to think of how to redeem yourself. “I got so swept up with emotion from the past, I said yes, I didn���t mean to, but Loki was already crying and I needed him to calm down — he’s — he’s asleep, but if he starts getting protective by the time you come home, I’m so sorry—!”

“Wait,” Bucky said, cutting you off. “Baby, explain this again. Calmly, okay?” He didn’t sound too worried. Then again, this might be the quiet before the storm.

“Loki came by our house, drunk. He was crying, and I got nervous. He kissed me, proposed, and then asked me to marry him. I didn’t know what to do, so I said yes. I’m so, so sorry....”

“Well, you’re not going to marry him, are you?” he asked, sad humor slipping in. Your heart sank.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled. You didn’t mean to say it out loud, but hey? What could you do? You held the phone to your ear gingerly, keeping an eye on Loki’s sleeping form. “I-I mean, no. No.”

The anger slowly started to build. You understood it. You hoped he would be mad at you instead of Loki. “You don’t know? Or ‘no’? What is it?”

“James, it isn’t like that,” you protested. You bit your tongue and your cheek. If the world was perfect, you would have married Loki like you were set on. You would have had children with him, by now. As you spoke, you found you weren’t faced with the possibility of losing Bucky, but the possibility of throwing away your decade-old dreams. “I swear. I don’t want to marry anybody, right now. I don’t. I couldn’t.”

“Why couldn’t you? What if I did propose, Y/N?” Defensive. Protective. Angry. Hurt. Why? Had Loki been right? 

You hadn’t ever talked about marrying Bucky. You couldn’t imagine that life. “Bucky, can we save this for later?” you begged through the phone. “Please, I’m worried about Loki; he’s never drunk himself stupid before.” You scratched your neck. In your wildest dreams, you had never imagined falling back into Loki’s temptation.

You had finally woken up clean, and he had to try to bring you back down.

“Y/N?” he asked after a moment. Barnes sounded hollow. Hollow, but understanding. There was a shuffle over the phone and you couldn’t tell what it was. Was he leaving? Was he moving around? Would he forgive you?

“Yeah?” you managed. 

“You still love him. Don’t you?” 

Your tongue was glued to the roof of your mouth. Your tears welled up. No wonder you were able to be friends with Loki. No wonder you weren’t able to just forget about him. With an ocean of regret in your voice, you admitted, “I don’t want to.”

James sighed. “Okay. Well, we can talk things through at home... I know you didn’t mean for anything to happen, I know you’ve been as faithful as you can be. You wouldn’t be calling and crying otherwise.” He sniffed. “I shouldn’t have planned a proposal without clearing it with you. We haven’t talked about marriage.”

“Bucky, if I do ever marry, I don’t want you to worry if it’s you or Loki. I don’t even know if I want to marry anyone. Loki clearly has feelings for me, I can’t just pretend that I don’t have remaining feelings when he could very well keep coming by... Gosh.” You sat down in a chair. You looked at your left hand, which had no ring on it. It was bare. 

“I’ll head home,” Bucky said. “Sit tight. Bye.”

“Bye.” You hung up the phone. You held your head in your hands, silently cursing yourself for being the world’s biggest pushover. Your ex waltzed in, gave off a teary show, and then pleaded for your heart like he was on death row, and you listened. Were you an idiot? What kind of mistake were you making? Could you up and leave Bucky for some tool who could change his mind as quickly as he had four years ago?

You sat there for what seemed like hours; it was probably only one or two, considering how long Bucky’s firm was from your home. Your boyfriend eventually stepped through the door and pulled you into his arms, millions of apologies being swapped between the two of you. 

You sat at the table and talked for almost three hours. Every now and then, it was bordering an argument, but you both kept your cool. Bucky knew how hard you were trying to be there for him, to be his, but when it came down to it, you were always Loki’s. You had a raw wound. You knew how much Bucky wanted to be yours, but as it turned out, he was proposing because it seemed like what was expected of him. Through the conversation, you learned that maybe it was smarter to take a break, maybe stay roommates, and try to exist as friends again.

“If Loki makes you happy,” Bucky whispered, “then I think you should try again. He’s changed; he’s made changes for you. He’s been good to you. We’ve been barely getting by these past months.”

“I know,” you replied. “But I’m not going to turn around and just run after him. That’s not smart. You’re still in my life, Buck.”

“All I see is you,” he murmured.

“I know,” you said again.

Bucky stood up. “I’m going to stay at Steve’s tonight, doll. Um... make sure Loki has water when he wakes up. Give him a good tongue-thrashing for me.” He offered a weak smile.

You sniffled. “Take whatever you need. I’ll be up playing nurse — don’t worry about anything.”

Bucky nodded. “Got it.” He scratched his nose. “I’ll drop by in the morning and see if there’s anything I can help with.”

+-+--

When Loki woke up, the headache was the first thing he complained of. “Y/N?” he groaned. You were sitting next to him, hands tucked under your arms. You were gazing down at him, watching his face as his expression changed from pained to embarrassed. “Please tell me what happened was just a fever dream...”

You shook your head. “You proposed to me.”

“You said ‘yes’,” he breathed, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Oh, my Norns. I’m so sorry; you don’t have to marry me. I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have even come by — I walked from the bar, in the rain, with only the thought of taking you back...”

“I figured,” you chuckled lightly. You didn’t meet his eyes. You played with the hem of your shirt. “Bucky and I might break up, though. You told on him. His planned proposal, I mean.” 

“You aren’t breaking up because of me, are you?”

“No; not entirely. I’m still... You’re trouble, you know that? I’m going to get a reputation.”

“You need one,” Loki joked. “People will be less likely to take advantage of you, then. Odinson’s Wife — the Terrifying Maiden.”

“I’m no maiden,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m still upset from our breakup. That’s why Bucky and I are thinking about calling it quits. I wasn’t over you when I thought I was, so just shut up and drink some water.” You handed him a glass. “You can’t hold your liquor, you know.”

Loki took it gingerly. “Oh, I hate how well you know me,” he sighed, taking a long sip. “Do I get some aspirin?”

“No.” You crossed your arms. “You said you’ve been carrying Frigga’s ring in your pocket since she died?”

“I did?” He furrowed his brows. “That’s right, I did... I’ve been keeping it for you, I must admit.”

“You said.”

Loki sat up, taking your hand. “I have your picture in my wallet.”

“You what?” You blinked. “You didn’t say that.” You scooted a little closer. 

“Well, no, I didn’t; I didn’t need you to drop my glass heart, now, did I?” Loki smirked a little. “You know it always has been you, lover.”

“I’m not your lover,” you said exasperatedly. 

Loki kissed your cheek. Although you pushed him off once or twice, he managed to snake his arms around your waist and hang on you. “Not yet. I will marry you, whatever it takes.”

+-+--

Sidewalk chalk was an odd Christmas tradition with Thor’s kids. It was another three years after Loki’s drunken proposal, and you and Bucky eventually sorted it out and found you were both much, much happier. Bucky married Sarah Wilson, taking her two boys as his own stepchildren. You were still in the grey area with Loki, but you wouldn’t deny that you were about ready to scream if he didn’t at least try to pop the question.

“Y/N, darling, I brought you something!” Loki’s voice came from upstairs. Thor’s house was large, and the wife he had picked opted to be a stay-at-home mother while the toddlers were toddling. He poked his head out from the upstairs balcony and grinned at you like a madman. 

“What did you bring me?” you asked, arching your brow at your boyfriend-but-not-really. He stomped down the stairs, thrusting a little blue bag in your hands.

“I’ve brought glad tidings. I’ve come to free you~” he teased, poking your sides. “My undying affection. My most-ardent love for you—”

“—Can it, tell me what it is,” you said, cutting him off. Loki pulled you flush against his chest, peppering your cheek with kisses.

“I want you to imagine us... you, standing in a nice dress, me, staring at you staring at the sunset,” he whispered, lacing your fingers. “Happy Christmas, darling.”

“What is it?” you pressed, looking in the bag. It was a little picture of a house. “What?”

“That’s our home, sweetheart,” Loki said, resting his head on top of yours. “We’ll live there after the wedding, raise our children...”

“You’re still trying to get me to marry you?” you asked.

“We’ve been engaged for three years!” he scolded playfully. “Not even in your wildest dreams, I would not be trying to make you my wife.”

“What if I am your wife?”

“I’ll try to marry you again!” he laughed, kissing you sweetly. 

[waywardimpalawriter]

“Kissing me breaks the promise… remember?" with Javier and can I please have a happy ending, I know it's angst prompts but.... :D Thank you!

Crazy Love

Pairing: Javier Peña x Plus Size Female Reader

Characters: Javier Peña, Steve Murphy, mentions Connie Murphy

Setting: After season one episode 7 ‘You will cry tears of blood’, five months after the events in ‘Heels’,

Rating: M (Mature), E (Explicit), NSFW, 18+ only please

Warnings: mentions of gun violence, almost killing a child, self hatred, smut, unprotected sex, Angry Javier (yes he needs a warning), angst, slight fluff at the end,

Summary: One slip up, reacting too quickly he could’ve ended the life of one way too young to fight the wars of old men. Thoughts filled with darkness, what if’s and self degradation. Wanting to loose himself in the only way he knows. To find because of you he can brave the dawn and the coming war.

Word count: 5,985 (with lyrics)

Notes: Thank you so much for the request sweetie, @autumnleaves1991-blog I hope you enjoy. Prompt in bold. The song used is ‘Crazy Love’ written by Van Morrison and preformed by various artists. This also a sequel to “Heel’s part 1” written some months back.

Tag List:

Forever’s: @chickensarentcheap @jedi-mando

Knuckles white with the grip he’s got on the steer wheel, eyes darting between the thin packed streets and Murphy with the baby in his arms. “What about the kid? Any ideas where to take her?”

Missing the shrug, with his eyes back on the road, “For now I’ll take her with us.” Smirk twitching his dark blond mustache with the look Javier pins him with at a stop light. “Don’t worry Javi she ain’t gonna stay with you. Poor darlin can’t live on whiskey and cigarettes. Though the parade of women might slow with her at your apartment.”

“There’s no parade jackass,” trying to focus on the road ahead and off what almost occurred three hours ago.

Subtle tick to his jaw knowing something’s bothering his partner about what went down. More to the point of how it went to shit and letting two high ranking Sicario slip through their fingers. “Wanna spill what’s eaten at you?”

“No just take care of the kid don’t need you play shrink in my head,” pulling up to the embassy, Javier kills the engine turning fully to look at Steve. “Care to share your explanation to Noonan or will you wing it?”

Shrugging Steve glances down into her sleepy eyes trying to figure out just what he’ll say. More importantly what he’s going to tell Connie. “I’m not,” looking back over at Peña seeing a raised brow. “I’ll take her home to Connie, figure out this shit as we go.”

“I’m sure Y/N would babysit,” mentioning you name cut deeply as the last month he’s put distance between the two of you. Continuing the relationship based solely on your sexual needs instead of the feeling he keeps buried.

“Doubtful, she’s working on transferring out. Packing I’m sure takes her time up right now,” seeing the scowling confusion drawing his brows down. “You knew she asked for a transfer right?”

“When?” Curses fill his mind. Directed fully at himself for letting the situation spiral out of control to the point you’ve become that notch on his bed post. Telling himself he’s going to let you go but never finding the courage to actually cut the strings. “She never mentioned taking a transfer. ”

The nights spent together you never mentioned a transfer. But then words rarely left either of your lips that’s not in passionate pleas wanting more or demands for completion. Conversations the first to go in the crumbling relationship, embraces followed not long after and the final straw added a month and a half ago. No kisses on the mouth anyway a promise you made him invoke to separate the past pleasures from the present stalemate.

Revisiting those thoughts often, Javier understood why you made the decision. One he hated but respected. Wondering most nights why you still let him inside your soft plush body instead of putting up a wall between the two of you. Shoving him out of your life fully. But then the transfer you didn’t speak of talked louder than any uttered words could.

“Two weeks ago, something about returning back to the States. Damn shame Y/N’s a fucking amazing secretary even better person. Why’d you go fuck things up for us both?” Wanting to knock some sense into Javier but a part of Steve understood the other man’s reasons for pushing you away. “Just let her go man this job she’s not fit nor can put up with the stress. I know I pushed at first but whatever you did to shover her away it’s for the best.”

“She’s a lot stronger than you know,” said more to himself than Steve. Other mans words hitting deeper than Javier would say, his fingers tightening around the leather steering wheel. “You don’t know shit Murphy.”

“I know a month ago things changed between the two of you.” Switching the baby to his other arm cradling her close to his chest. “Whatever happened she become withdrawn, stopped smiling as much,” piercing him with a hard stare. “Reverting back to the woman I first met when coming Bogota.” Glancing out the windshield Steve drag a hand over his face exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “ piece of advice either fess up explain what’s eaten at you or let her go.”

Selfishness claws at his mind wanting to keep you from leaving. From getting away not only from Columbia it’s self but from him. The realistic half needing you safe a world removed from the war starting to build back up. This afternoon’s events flash through his mind of how he almost killed a kid. A fucking kid who tried to protect the Sicario scum he chased and cornered. Would’ve had him had the kid not pulled a gun on him. The decision not to pull the trigger an easy one this time. But what about the next? Making him no better than the men he chases if he decided to take the shot so easily. Affirming those thoughts to let you go for your greater good and health.

“Javi?” Snapping fingers to gain his attention. “Deep in thought or just swimming the shallow waters?”

Scowl taking up home over his features, “Don’t worry about it doesn’t concern you.”

“Fuck you say, she’s my friend to Javi.” Shaking his blond head wondering how much pushing it’ll take before Peña would break. “Besides I think Connie has a good chance at kicking your ass if you do anymore damaged. She’s wanted to get her hooks into you for a while now.”

Almost chuckling at those words though it’s mirthless and self deprecating. “She’s next in line,” tossing the words out while starting the Jeep. Silence reigns on the drive over to their apartment, pulling up to the curb and letting Steve out.

Who pauses in the open door, “Heading to Y/N’s? Or back to the Embassy?”

“Paperwork,” impatiently waiting for Steve to shut the door.

Eager for some peace and time to think. He sees you standing in the doorway arms crossed under your generous breasts. For once actually studying your features taking in the fact you look somber, dressed in well loved jeans and baggy T-shirt. No makeup, though Javi told you a thousand times how beautiful you look without all those cosmetics painted on your face. Heart kicking up at the way your staring at him. Barely seen with you so far away but he knows there’s a softness shining in your eyes. Emotions he’s never tried to decipher in other women till you. Thoughts now run into each other, fears chasing after wanting so much but feeling undeserving.

Soft chuckle echos around the Jeep’s cabin making Javi glance at Steve, “Time better served explaining than useless paperwork.” Looking over his shoulder to find you gone, “Before it’s to late and she’s gone.” Door slamming shut, Steve leans in through the open window with a meaningful expression on his handsome face. Patting the inside slight nod of his blond head before turning to go inside leaving Javier with to many thoughts.

Pulling away from the curb happening to glance back towards the apartments catching you standing at the window. Hand pressed to the glass unreadable look on your face one he’s sure shows signs of displeasure and anger. With a blink your silhouette disappears heart clenching at the thought he’s just imagined you standing there. Another curse flies from his lip, palm forcefully slamming down on the steering column doing nothing to temper the anger boiling inside his mind. Instead Javier guns the engine taking off at a high rate of speed receiving numerous honks in irritated warning.

*************************

Letting the curtain fall back in place wild thumping of your heart pulsing out a rhythm that aches with every pound. Partly hating yourself for getting involved with a man incapable of having any kind of relationship other than sexual. Asking yourself why you keep letting him back into your bed, into your heart knowing it’ll just break in the end. Only one answer comes to mind and you push it firmly back into the dark abyss. Focusing on what you needed to done. Having struggled for the last two months with the decision to finally put in for a transfer home, away from Columbia and Javier Peña. Never an easy choice especially when you’ve fallen in love with a man who would never love you back.

Heavy knocking makes you jump in spot leaning against the wall by the window. Hand coming to rest against the quickly beating organ threatening to thump right outta your chest. Taking a breath trying to calm down from the freight you take small steps to eat up the distance towards the door. Another round of pounding has a scowl appearing wondering who would beat your door down at this time of evening.

“Hold your horses I’m comin’ already,” raising you voice loud enough to at least pause the noise.

Grasping the doorknob right when, “Hermosa,” his voice pulls your hand back almost as if the knob burned you with that very endearment. “Open up you can’t hide I know your there.”

“Go away Javier I’m not in the mood,” arms crossed glaring at the door. Pivoting on bare feet to track towards the kitchen going back to sorting through what your keeping and leaving behind. Freezing in place the unmistakeable sound of a key sliding into lock. Cursing the fact you never asked for the spare back and giving him one in the first place. Try as you might to make your feet move instead there rooted in spot when the door opens. “I didn't invite you in Javi turn your ass around and leave.”

Breath escaping quickly, eyes narrowing after searching the apartment he’s spent the last months in. Catching sight of half filled boxes, newspaper scattered over the coffee table, before landing on your furious features. Hands gripping wide hips, soft chin jutted out in annoyance while eyes spit anger burying the true feelings deep. “It’s true?”

“Why do you care?” Countering his words biting the inside of your cheek to keep tears from sliding coldly down your cooling skin. “Leave Javier,” exasperated and tired just wanting to move on, putting the relationship in the past.

Not two steps away his warm gun callused hand incloses around your wrist tugging and turning your plush body around to face him. “Not till you answer me.”

“We don’t talk about feelings remember Peña, your rules,” yanking your wrist free glare firmly in place.

Flinching at the harsh tone eyes scorching him with there intensity, his own somber and filled with regret. Deserving of those very words no matter how much they hurt. He moves forward for you to take one back reaching to grasp both shoulders. Taking another step out of his reach slow two step pattern finds your back pressed against the bar counter. Reminiscent of the first time you made love all those months ago. Except this time you’d stand strong push him away and not fall prey to those warm russet eyes filled with so many indescribable emotions.

“Stupid rule I never should’ve put in our relationship,” three feet of space between the two of you. Both chests heaving breaths eyes locked and searching. His eyes close drawing in your familiar scent letting it wash all the days stress clean for a single moment in time. Ear’s picking up the quick beating of your heart wishing as his eyes open a smile would bloom over those kissably soft lips.

“But you did and there’s no taking it back now,” firm stance starting to crumble under the weight of emotions filtering through his dark eyes.

Half way to reaching out his hands drop back to fist at his sides, “I’m sorry hermosa I didn’t mean…” unsure how to fix what’s broken. Never good at speaking his feelings even when the need presents its self.

I can hear her heart beat for a thousand miles

And the heavens open every time she smiles

And when I come to her that's where I belong

Yet I'm running to her like a river's song

“What’d want from me Javier?” Pleading tone arms crossed to close your body off. Putting up a defense against the one man who’s managed to crumble every wall surround your heart. To starve off the bubbling emotions threatening to spill over and consume you.

Closing the small gap, callused hands cup both cheeks, fingers spread from apples to jawlines. Brushing his thumbs under your eyes his own pleading and soft ‘the puppy’ look you nicknamed it two weeks into the relationship. “To kiss you.”

Swallowing harshly, “Kissing me breaks the promise… remember?" Willing your body not to react, not to turn and place kisses to his palm. Nuzzling the warmth drawing peace from his comforting touch. “We made rules you know how I feel about kissing Javi.”

Almost two months ago things started to fall apart. Always asking yourself why you still let him into your bed and body. Part of you knowing the space carved Javier hole in your heart will never close. Not even denying the both of you those intimate kisses could change the fact he’s wormed his way through defenses long held too fall in love with your DEA agent.

“I know mi amor,” sliding one hand down from your face to wrap his arm around your thick waist. Pulling you flush into his embrace and against his body. Turning the both of you so it’s his back pressed into the counter. Savoring the softness wishing you’d hold him. Run your fingers through his hair and chase away the stress currently resurfacing with your tense posture. “I don’t want you to leave.” No truer words spoken ones that cut his very soul with the implications of what could happen if he didn’t take Steve’s advice.

Agony rips a new hole in your heart at his words, at the endearment dripping from those sinful lips. “You don’t mean that.” Eyes close to keep from staring into russet browns. Trying not to give in and foolishly hope he means what he speaks.

“I do hermosa,” eyes popping open at the barest brush of his chapped lips against yours, widen orbs find his shut, brow furrowed. “I don’t want to loose you.”

“Javier,” breathlessly whispering his name. The intensity of Javi’s declaration scares you not wanting to believe for a second his words ring true. Not when so many broken promises lay at your feet. Yet, if there’s one thing you know about Javier Peña he’s honest, never lying to you about what he wanted. Holding back sure, not letting you in those tightly held defenses of his own fuck yes, but lie to you never. Those thoughts make others chase after. Ones that scare you into thinking you’ve made a huge mistake by asking for the transfer. Could you leave his man who holds your heart? Walk away from a relationship that’s possibly just hitting a rough patch? So engrossed in those thoughts you don’t realize he’s tipping your chin up to angle your head in the prefect position to slot his mouth over yours.

Javier’s restraint having snapped with his name slipping from your bitten lips, wanting to meld the two of you together in the only way he knows how. Showing you with his body what his words couldn’t express. Javier captures your mouth in a bruising kiss filled with demands. Teeth biting at your lips, dragging plump bottom in to abuse with nibbles and soothing over with his tongue. Harsh gasp blown from your mouth giving him access to the warm cavern. Drinking from your well, tasting your flavor on his tongue always returning for more. Tangling together as his arm tightens around your soft waist.

Garnering a moan of need from deep within your chest. Attacking his mouth with your own, fingers coming into play by carding through those thick mahogany strands tugging harshly. Receiving a growl in return that vibrates down to your very core clit throbbing in response to his rough actions.

Mouths parting to gather air, “I need you hermosa please,” desperation coloring his tone foreheads resting together. The hand still cupping your cheek slides around to gently cup the back of your head. “I need…” swallowing hard, fighting to keep from taking you hard and fast right there. Burying the fear and pain, the anger and worry into your soft gentle body. Letting you sooth the demons threatening to consume his soul. But he couldn’t, promising to never show that side of himself to you.

Those thoughts in mind Javier moves in to kiss you only to chase your mouth till you place fingers over his searching lips. Seeing a spark of need in he eyes that’s closed away before fully blooming. Leading you to remember a conversation the two of you had at the on set of your relationship. Knowing what he needed and how, you step back watching his features fall with his arms to the side.

Only to have confusion replace the crestfallen expression as you tug the t-shirt up and off your body. Standing in just your panties and jeans, “I told you a long time ago Javier I’m not made of glass this body…” hands gliding up from your waist to soft tummy and generous breasts. “Won’t break if your rough with me.” Heat sparking in eyes that will him to listen, give in and take you. “If I’m staying and we work this out you’ll have to let me in.”

Each word hits him hard square in the heart, “I don’t want to hurt you cariño.”

“You already have Javier,” head dropping you go to tug your shirt back on. Only to have it ripped from your hand and tossed somewhere unseen. That soft gasp making his heart beat triple time. Strong arms wrap around your body to bring you back into his warmth. “Fix what you broke.”

There’s no gentleness to the possessive kiss Javier captures your mouth with. Large warm hands grip your plush ass to press into your tummy the thick ridge of his jeans covered erection. Low growl slipping passed parted gasping lips that angle for the right spot to draw those whimpers and moans he can never get enough of. Separating long enough to have you rip his tan button up open, little plastic disks pinging off the wall and tiled floor. Scoring your short nails over his soft tummy, toying with the button of his jeans.

“Fuck,” hissing through kiss swollen lips that attack your neck with bitting teeth. Wanting to mark each inch of you in reminder to himself of who you derive your pleasure from. “Do that again,” demanding cadence gets a soft smirk to spread over your bitten lips.

Keeping your eyes lock, breath existing quickly because of the passionate kiss. Short nails rake up his chest and leave little red lines behind. Detouring to pinch his pebbled tight nipples receiving another low growl against the skin of your collarbone. Where his mouth sucks a purpling mark laving his tongue over the bruising skin. Enjoying the shutter he feels race down your spine.

Pushing the shirt from his shoulders Javier raises his head to stare into your desire darken eyes. “Fuck me Javier till I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Simple words ignite a passion and deep seated need inside his body to claim and wreak you. Clothing becomes nothing more than obstacles in the way of having naked skin against his own. The two of your fumbling with buttons and zippers. His parting on a sigh of relief as you push the fabric to pool around his ankles. Nimble fingers brushing through course little hairs. Leading your hand to wrap around his shaft. Thick girth barely covered by your hand that you pump along heated velvet skin.

Smirking at the groaning string of Spanish curses falling from his lips. Only replaced by the pout, when he brushes your hand away. Mouth still just inches from yours brushing taking another sip from your lips. Drowning in the taste of your mouth, the feel of your plump lips against his. Devouring the pout and only breaking to whisper, “Later princesa.” Toeing off boots and soak covered feet pressing out of jeans, naked as on his born day for your eyes to devour.

Becoming insnared with his beauty far too long for Javier’s liking. Lips licked slowly watching the bob of his jutting cock. Mouth watering in want of a taste. Quick breaths expanded his soft covered muscular chest your hands itch to dust over. His handsomeness distracting you to the point a squeal issues from the back of your throat when he pulls you by the belt loops towards the couch. Skilled fingers making quick work of getting your jeans undone warm palms sliding the fabric down your body.

Javier drops back into the couch bringing you between his spread knees and placing kisses to your tummy. Nuzzling the underside of your breasts. Looking up to ensnare your vision with his own desire filled gaze. Strong arms holding you in place while eyes close, nose rubbing into your soft scantly skin resting his head on your tummy. Hands coming up to card through his hair gently this time tugging the locks and wrapping his shoulders with your arms. Emotions clogging your throat burning with the need to release the tears of mixed feelings.

Moaning head tossing back when his warm tongue peeking out to teasing the taut nipples his hands tug your panties down. Becoming impatient and ripping the thin cotton from your body. Making you gasp and look down into those desire blacken eyes you choose happily to drown in. “You’ll…” swallowing your words on a moan as those thick skilled fingers draw through your folds. Tapping your clit several times and retreating to slide inside your clinching walls.

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She's got a fine sense of humor when I'm feeling low down

And when I come to her when the sun goes down

Take away my trouble, take away my grief

Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief

“I’ll buy you more cariño and go with you to help pick out certain ones,” giving you a cheeky wink. Groaning with the feel of slick coating his fingers, smirk in place when your hands brace on his shoulders to keep from tipping over into his arms. Pulling his fingers out to suck them clean making sure your watching his every move. The resounding whimper he draws out brings the same smug grin too tug at his lips. Gripping the back of your thick thighs to spread your stance and slot his own knees between.

Pulling you down against him knees on either side of his thighs. Hiss issued at the contact of your dripping folds coating his shaft trapped between your bodies. Rolling hips to tease your own hands gripping the back of the couch to brace yourself while raising up. Deep moan breaks from your chest when Javier draws the fat cock head through your folds. Circling your clit as your hips match the movements. Waiting till he’s notched himself at your entrance before slamming down against him.

Head tossing back at the stretch and burn of him splitting you open gasps of delight echo and play with the groans from Javier. Who grips your hips, holding you against him for a time face buried in your chest. Hot mouth searching out blindly latching onto your right nipple to bite down just hard enough to make your quivering channel squeeze him tightly.

“Fuck,” single word mumbled against your skin. When you start to move setting a quick pace that’s hard and demanding. Head dropping back between your gripping hands. String of curses and praise leave his lips. “Just like that hermosa, so fucking wet for me,” grunting into your mouth that came to fuss to his. Sharing breaths while you move against his body.

Taking possession of his pleasure with a kiss that’s deep and hungry. Devouring the sounds he makes with each quick roll of your hips. Pressing your generous breasts against the hard plains of his chest, nipples brushing his skin as his own hands grip your thick soft waist. Leaving behind bruises with how tightly he holds you. One hand gliding over sweat slicked skin to cup a full ass cheek giving a squeeze before landing a hard slap.

Movements falter with the stinging pleasure coursing through your veins, “Javi.” Kiss breaking breathlessly to catch his eyes. Seeing the indecision clearly written, you nod leaning to brushing your lips over his ear, “Again please.”

Mouth buries against the spot where shoulder and neck meet, planting his feet firmly to thrust into your welcoming cunt quicker. Letting a moment pass till he lands another smack to the other ass cheek. Soothing the pain with his warm palm, “Like that princesa?” Drawing his nose over the sweaty expanse of his throat tossed back on a gasp. Bearing your neck to his hungry gaze and mouth.

Taking advantage to bite and suck, thick mustache abrading your skin in the most delicious of ways. Sending tingles to dance across your skin making your clit throb with each hard pound of his cock deep inside your quivering walls. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders for leverage as your knees sink into the couch and you bounce on Javier’s cock. Thick thighs shaking as orgasm builds quicker than you thought possible.

“Yes,” whimpering out in answer. Both hands cup your ass helping you move against him. Sweat slicked shoulders make for a tough grip movements becoming choppy and sloppy. Low whine bubbles from the back of your throat needing more but unsure how to say.

Javier picks up on the destress, pulling out making the whine lengthen. “Lay back on the couch for me hermosa,” seeing the confusion in your gaze. Javi tugs you to sit in the corner of the couch, pulling till your almost flat and he crawls between those thick thighs he wants wrapped around his waist.

Sliding back inside of you on a groan, “Still so tight for me princesa I could stay buried in your pretty pussy forever never growing tired of having your surround me.”

“Javi,” heat flares across your body at his words, face buried in your palms. Only to have them pulled and placed on his chest. Shocked yet pleased with his sentiments, the way he growls out the words setting off tingles dancing down your spine.

Gasping when he pulls out resting just the tip before surging back angling to hit that little spot only he’s managed to discover inside you. Right leg draped over his hip left dangling off the couch as your hands scrap and grope at his shoulders. Strong arms press on either side of you holding himself up while rocking his hips into yours. Setting a fast and hard pace that has you gasping, moans of incoherent words tumble from your mouth that hangs open trying to gather breath.

Watching with hooded eyes, drinking in the way you look, the passion morphing your features never wanting to let you go. To always see you in the throws of pleasure he delivers to your body. Praying to whoever will listen that you’ll stay. Those thoughts creating a fire inside his body that moves quicker.

Wanting to show you his feelings by repeatedly burying his cock deep inside your throbbing cunt. Loving your soft thick body with his mouth latching onto a breast. Nipping skin and taunt nipples, curling his tongue before biting down and switching to the twin. Feeling your nails score his back and shoulders only driving on his own pleasure.

Needing you to cum first though, Javier slides one hand between your slick bodies to caress your clit with tight circles of pressure. Smirking into your flesh when you gasp and squirm under him. His name breathlessly spoken to the heavens your back arching off the couch. “That’s my girl cum for me amor soak my cock.”

“Javier,” fingers card through his hair pulling his mouth back to yours. Tender and sweet nothing like the previous kisses as you pour your heart out to the man pounding you into the couch. Foreheads rest together, moans dripping from your lips brushing against his trying to hold back to draw out the pleasure. Afraid of the final moment he finds completion and walks out of your life maybe for good this time. “I love you,” unable to stop those three words from tumbling out. Orgasm slamming through your body with the hard thrusts of Javier’s hips. Crying out his name, arching against him breath stuck along with tears in your throat.

Swearing he heard things, Javier’s pace stuttered but his heart pounds quicker. Hips having a mind of their own as his body rushes to completion. Cumming harder than he’s ever in his life, filling your clinching walls with hot stick seed. Strength evaporated from his arms collapsing into your embrace. Burying his face in your neck, hot moist breath fanning out over your skin. Small after shocks roll through both your bodies garnering whimpers and moans from both of you.

Time, unsure of how much passes while you card fingers through his sweat slicked hair. Enjoying this moment, basking in the after glow of your love making while praying it’s not the end.

“Don’t leave,” words whispered into your skin so low there barely caught. Wondering if you’ve heard things your fingers pause watching on stuttering breath as Javier raises his head to stare into your eyes. Wondering if you meant what you said or just caught up in the pleasurable sex and let it out. It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask when you beat him to the punch.

“I… I…” words lost in the jumble of your mind unsure what to say. Fearful your passionate declaration went unheard or worse ignored.

Cupping your cheek surprised to find tears tracking down your cheek, “Don’t leave me Y/N please.”

Searching his bright russet eyes confused till you see what he’s really saying. Realization blooming across your mind your own hand coming up to embrace his cheek. Thumb swiping over the apple, “I’ll speak to Noonan.” Bringing his mouth down to yours for a soft sweet kiss.

“Do you really love me?” Foreheads resting together breath held, his eyes closed tightly fearing the answer.

Shocked he’s asking. Remembering the times you tried to get him to talk about his feelings becoming shut down pushing the conversation away or distracting you with kisses and sex. With the lengthening silence Javier dares to open his eyes catching the soft expression in yours that cracks his frozen heart.

“I wouldn’t say those words if I didn’t mean them Javi you know that,” continuing to brush your fingers over his stubbled jaw. Up into his soft sweaty hair to gently scratch his scalp knowing how much he enjoys when you do. Rewarded with a low purr from the back of his throat. “What happened today baby?”

Fear keeps him quiet for a moment till, “I almost killed a kid.” Lowering his stare to map your skin with his eyes adding the marks he left behind to his memory. Fear returning now that you’ve heard how much of a monster he’s turning into.

“Did you shoot?” There’s no accusations or incrimination, voice softly seeking a way to help sooth the demons you saw when he first arrived.

Carefully pulling from your warm depths and embrace to sit on the edge of the couch face buried in his hands. Missing the whimper at loosing his touch. You grab for the blanket draped over the back to cover yourself in self consciousness. Moving carefully to sit up and lean against his shoulder. Fingers carding through his hair slowly while placing the other around his waist. Waiting till he’s ready to start speaking not wanting to push.

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

Yes I need her in the daytime

Yes I need her in the night

Yes I want to throw my arms around her

Kiss her hug her kiss her hug her tight

Welcoming warmth enveloping his body that cleaves into you. Baritone rough with emotions, “No I couldn’t pull the tigger, didn’t want to shoot some kid who’s stupidly following the orders of a man who doesn’t care about him.”

“Listen to me Javi you’re not Escobar you’ll never have that narcissistic attitude.” Turning his face to look at you, brushing the stubble with your fingertips. “Yes you’ve done some questionable things for good reasons to take down this asshole who would gladly see all of Columbia burn just to get and keep what he wants.” Leaning in to brush your nose against his, “I couldn’t love a man who killed people for kicks Javier. That’s not what you do. You save people, protect them as best you can.”

Unworthiness filtering through his thoughts never expecting to find someone who loved him faults and all. Intertwining his fingers with the hand previously on his cheek bring the back to his lips to place a kiss. “I don’t deserve you hermosa,” swallowing harshly letting your hand go to stand. Unconcerned with his nakedness Javier stretches popping his back then looking down at you.

Worry etched in those beloved eyes that stare unblinkingly at the spot he just vacated. “Leaving now?” Biting off the words tears clouding your vision mistaking his declaration as rejection pulling the blanket tighter around your plush body.

Forefinger and thumb pinching the end of your soft chin raising your gaze to meet his, “Why would I leave when everything I want and love rests with you.”

“Javier?” Voice wobbling with unshed tears.

Pulling the blanket from your body taking in the curves and dips, the softness he’s itching to get his hands back on. But right now Javier brings the nearest hand to his lips, brushing the knuckles with his mouth mustache tickling your skin. Keeping your eyes locked as he tugs you up into his arms. “I’m serious Y/N I don’t deserve you but without you I’m a shell of a man,” bringing his free hand up to cup your cheek deep russet eyes burning with love staring into yours.

“What are you saying?” Fear coating the words, afraid it’s all a dream and you’ll wake without Javier beside you.

Drawing your mouth closer, strong arm wrapping around your thick waist, “I’m saying I love you Y/N and if you’ll have me I’m yours till you kick me out for driving you crazy.”

“You already do that Javi,” watery giggles escaping your lips that brush his twice. Reaching up to card fingers through the soft strands at the back of his head tugging just a little harder than normal. “Say it again.”

Grunting at the tugs sliding a hand down to cup a generous bare ass cheek to give a squeeze. “Drive you crazy.”

Just barely holding in the squeak, “No,” eyes rolling at his cheek. “You know what I mean Javier Peña.”

“I do,” slotting his mouth against yours stealing the breath from your lungs as he kisses you with a passion never felt before. Barely breaking to mumble those three simple words into your lips, “I love you.” Getting lost in your kiss while silently vowing to never let you go or break your heart.

And when I'm returning from so far away

She gives me some sweet lovin' brighten up my day

Yes it makes me righteous, yes it makes me feel whole

Yes it makes me mellow down in to my soul

[the-lightning-strikes-again]

A Review of Voltron DDP Comic: A Legend Forged (2008)

I knew the old Devil’s Due Publishing (DDP) comics for Voltron were lit…but the sequel, A Legend Forged, really resonated with me! This 5-issue comic series is DDP’s interpretation of the history behind the Voltron robot itself, and it wraps this lore within an adventure plot featuring our main pilots (Allura, Keith, Hunk, Lance, Pidge) in an alliance with Lotor.

I’ve meant to write a review about A Legend Forged for a while because I know that older Voltron comics aren’t always accessible. I think this one deserves some attention because it does things that I find just really refreshing after watching the 2016 Legendary Defender show. It also has some fun details that could have been source material for the world building and events in the 2016 VLD show. 

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The basic summary of this comic is that Team Voltron and Lotor are accidentally transported 1,200 years in the past after some classified time travel tech destabilizes in the middle of a fight. Powerless from the blast, they crash-land on a nearby planet, and they’re soon captured by people on the planet who have exceptionally advanced technology. Lotor agrees to a truce with Team Voltron to help find a way out of their prison, and back to their own time.

In arriving through the wormhole, however, they catch the attention of a very powerful group who are missing an important piece to complete their special defense project (the Voltron robot). The robot is being built in part by King Altarus, Allura’s ancestor, to fight off the villain in that ancient past—Empress Jain IX, Lotor’s evil great great (10X) grandmother, who is a sorceress hellbent on intergalactic domination.

Ultimately, Team Voltron and Lotor get caught up in the efforts to stop Empress Jain and assist King Altarus’s Council…and they discover some interesting things about themselves and about Voltron along the way!

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I found A Legend Forged to be one entertaining, snarky shenanigan after another. Although it does source the 1984 character designs and backgrounds along with some references to Vehicle Voltron (which may be alienating to fans familiar only with VLD), I love that this comic deeply and openly explores what makes the Voltron franchise so identifiable and unique—its Arthurian legends/magic in the midst of an expansive space opera.

The comic is meant for slightly older audiences compared to VLD—it includes several instances of adult cursing, frightening images, some brief images of romance/non-graphic sensuality, and occasional graphic violence showing blood. I couldn’t find a publisher-recommended age for this comic on the book covers, but I think it might be T for ages 12 and older.

If you’re interested, a deeper overview of A Legend Forged is included under the cut!

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At a high level, there’s certain things that just really attracted me to this comic, even though I’m usually not much of a comic reader:

THE WORLD BUILDING

The whole timeline distortion that takes them back 1,200 years is a direct consequence of humans attempting to back-engineer the mysterious Voltron robot. Within that back-engineering, they’d stumbled into creating a time machine:

(Photo Description: The city of Toronto in the future. Someone asks, “Time travel?” Coran replies, “Devised using reverse engineered technology from Lion Voltron, no doubt.” An alliance official responds, “Come on now, how would that be possible?” A second official responses, “Coran’s right. The way that Lion Voltron summons energy and weaponry is a mystery. We learned how to mimic the ability with the vehicle units, without really understanding it.”)

So there’s a lot of undertow here about just what exactly all these different parties (Earth/Galaxy Alliance, space pirates, Lotor) were planning to do with a time machine to begin with before it gets blown up in a battle over it. But there’s also something interesting happening here involving Fate/Destiny and plasticity of time itself.

At the very heart of this comic is the concept that the Voltron robot could not have been completed 1,200 years ago if Team Voltron and Lotor were not accidentally tossed back in time to help complete the project. And idk, I think that’s just pretty cool. It ties these lives of these characters together in a way that I don’t think I’ve seen in any other Voltron iteration—that they were meant to pilot Voltron, because their presence helped to unlock the final missing piece to bring it to life.  

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In addition, we get a really interesting look into the ancient past of the Voltron universe, back to the beginning of the first space empire. The comic’s big bad, Empress Jain IX, is an incredibly powerful and heartless sorceress of Drule heritage, from the planet Doon:

(Photo description: Empress Jain standing before the leader of a world she’s conquered, declaring, “And thus, the mighty fall! The powerful kneel at my feet! Behold the grandeur of your empress, and witness what happens to those who stand in her way!”)

But there’s always been this larger question in the Voltron franchise around King Zarkon’s unique, fish-like features compared to other Drule characters like Jain, and this comic answers that.

This is what the OG Zarkon looked like:

Compared to the ancient people of Korrinoth, who have similar ears and coloring as he does:

(Description: Keith says to the team, “I think we may be witnessing the beginning of King Zarkon’s people’s assimilation into the Drule Empire.”)

The planet that our protagonists crash-land on 1,200 years in the past is called Korrinoth. The people here had been recently conquered by Jain and share many similarities with the visual features of Zarkon. So this comic establishes that Zarkon has both Drule and Korrinite heritage. Unfortunately for Lotor, the Korrinites of the planet don’t acknowledge his Korrinite blood because he looks too Drule in comparison. So this comic reaches back on the hints that Lotor struggles to fit in with his own people…and it helps to explain why he’s captured along with Team Voltron:

(Photo description: Team Voltron and Lotor stand together, having been captured in a purple energy field functioning like jail bars.)

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There’s also the concept that Voltron—just like the surrounding environment in Voltron franchise—is an amalgamation of science and magic. The comic’s big bad, Empress Jain, had discovered that her own dark sorcery arts could be challenged by the “lion gods,” who were demanding an increasing price be paid for her horrific conquering. In order to negate the lion gods’ power, Jain explicitly banned religious worship around them and any lion god iconography from her empire.

(Photo description: The dark entity Sarga says, “It is coming, and soon, that which may be your downfall. A twisted abomination of science and technology. The might of the Lion-Gods with the heart and mind of Man.” Jain says, “But I have banned worship of the Lions through the empire.”)

So the Voltron builders were reaching back to a very ancient, lost power that they were risking their lives to resurrect. The connection to a pantheon of lion gods helps to provide some logic around why the Voltron robot itself splits into lions—because it’s literally the symbol of these lost gods.

The visual design of Voltron is also reflected in the armor worn specifically by warriors fighting in the name of these banned gods:

(Photo description: A humanoid warrior wearing Voltron-based armor, coming to Team Voltron’s rescue at the command of the Council.)

So Voltron as a machine metaphorically stands as the Ultimate Warrior in humanoid form, supported by the individual lion gods.

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Within the comic, it hints at some pretty intense religious discrimination—that Empress Jain was willing to arrest and torment even her own daughter, Azakhi for becoming a Lion Priestess:

(Photo description: Jain’s daughter, Azahki, is revealed to be a dirtied prisoner captured by Jain’s forces. She tells Team Voltron, “Do not fear my Drule appearance. I am a devout follower of your ways.”)

This background battle supports why Team Voltron and Lotor are instantly targeted by Jain’s forces when they crash-land on Korrinoth, bearing the banner of the lion gods in the form of Voltron.

Later on in the comic, we also see that the colors themselves represented the various domains of these lion gods:

(Photo description: An image of Voltron as it’s being built, with King Altarus narrating in the background, ““Yellow for win, red for fire, green for earth, blue for water, and at the center…the might blackness of space which houses all of reality.”)

So we really see Voltron pick up a lot more backstory to explain the robot itself. 

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We do get a deeper look as well into King Altarus and his Council.

King Altarus, Princess Allura’s ancestor, is the leader of the group. But the work involved in building Voltron doesn’t just rest with him like it did with Alfor in VLD. His council is just as equally if not more powerful than him in other ways.

In this panel, King Altarus introduces his four other team members as the most powerful scientists or sorcerers of their respective planet:

(Photo description: An introduction of the five council members of Altarus: “Cybrus hails from a world of sentient machines…More than a computer, he is also sorcerer to rival any other. The striking beauty to my right is Heket. Born of a nomadic race who travels the galaxy bestowing gifts of knowledge to primitive worlds. She is also the most brilliant scientist of her people. Phelos is a brilliant sci-mage from the neighboring solar system. If you are truly who you say, you may already know legends of our final ally. From a primitive world, but master of the most advance wizardry in the galazy: Merlin.”)

The combination of Altarus, Cybrus, Heket, Phelos, and Merlin all echo the 2016 Legendary Defender’s backstory—in which leaders of various people united together for the greater good of their galaxy. Once again, we have five unique planets represented in the Voltron effort—but in this case, it even includes Earth. This helps to explain part of why Voltron’s original design had very medieval attributes.

Maybe some would think it’s a bit hokey that the OG builders included the actual Arthurian figure of Merlin, the wizard? Idk, I think it’s kind of a fun way to connect Voltron’s ancient, magical past to Earth as well, and it suggests that Merlin was preparing or called by the others to help prepare for a future of advanced warfare. I’ve always wondered why the OG Voltron looked so medieval with the crests and the swords and such—and actually, it being built in part by a medieval human wizard would help to explain that!

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We also see in the DDP comics a very heavy evolution to Allura’s character and to the world building within the Voltron franchise itself. She’s no longer just a princess who knows how to fight—she’s actively a Clairvoyant, with untapped power. King Altarus acknowledges, and the other Council members sense it, that Princess Allura has way more internal magic than she even knows about herself:

(Photo description: Council member Heket says to King Altarus, “I have a feeling about the girl [Allura]. Her aura is oddly similar to your own.”)

We also see that the dark entity Sarga recognizes this in her as well:

(Photo description: The dark entity Sarga says to Empress Jain, “The visitors…they each have a link to this monstrosity. However, the blood of only one of them pulses with the  magic of Arus. The one called Allura! She is the one! She must be—” Jain cuts in, “The host!” And Sarga confirms, “Yes, with Princess Allura, Sarga will live in this realm once more. With her, we can control Voltron.”)

I feel like this magic probably helped to set the tone for the Princess Allura we meet in the 2016 Legendary Defender reboot, who ultimately got the opportunity to grow into the powers that are hinted at here in this previous iteration.

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I do also like this comic because the protagonists (with the exception of Pidge who is 16) are adults, and they’re a little more mature in their decisions and interests.

Like, for example, the Lance in this comic has a much more extensive sensitivity to and interest in culture. Instead of it being Hunk bonding with aliens through food, we see Lance as the diplomat, bonding with Jain’s daughter Azahki, just by asking her questions:

(Photo description: Lance and Jain’s daughter, Azahki, sitting at a table and eating. Lance says, “That hit the sport. I was frickin’ starving.” Azahki says, “After being held prisoner for so long, I had forgotten what real food tastes like. So much time was wasted…so much life. Just sitting in a cell because of my beliefs. I…I’m sorry, Lance. This should be a nice evening, and I’m bringing the mood down.”)

(Photo description: Lance replies, “Actually, I’m fascinated to learn more about the followers of the Lions, and about you. Like, where you come from. You feel free to talk about whatever comes to mind.” Azahki responds then, “You’re too kind.”)

I think along with this, we see a more nuanced view into the Drule themselves. Azahki, as both a Drule and as Empress Jain’s daughter, has turned away from the evil deeds of the empire and has suffered dearly for trying to do the right thing. This falls in line with DDP’s dedication in the worldbuilding to show that not all Drule are bad.

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We also see some very interesting, Honervian backstory relating to Empress Jain’s dark powers. Like VLD Honerva, Jain is in part backed by an ancient spirit/power she likes to “talk” to. She calls on it as the “Mother of Power.” This creepy creature is named Sarga in the comics:

(Photo description: Jain summons Sarga: “Mother of Power, Great Spirit, I summon thee.” The dark entity Sarga manifests and says, “Yesss, sweet Jain! You know my name! Feel free to speak it. Have you found the Host?” Jain replies, “Not yet, great Sarga. But the search continues. To date, my body is the only one that could sustain you in our realm.” Sarga says, “Jain. Do not be so simple-minded. It’s only your mortal shell.” Jain retorts, “One that I rather like, thank you.”)

Sarga is pushing for Jain to give up her mortal body entirely so that Sarga can walk the mortal plane, but they don’t see eye to eye on this. Jain likes having her own body. Even so, Sarga knows that she has to protect her investment in Jain, and so she’s the one who plants a devious idea in Jain’s head—that she could potentially use the Voltron from the future to destroy the Voltron of the past, and therefore reestablish her supremacy over the lion gods and their legacy.

Tbh, I visually get a LOT of vibes from Jain relating to VLD’s Honerva character? Down to the long stringy hair and gold eyes…and she really does look like a female version of Lotor, tbh, lol.

(Photo description: Jain leaning in a circle of candles, exhausted from summoning Sarga, who has referred to Voltron. Jain murmurs to herself, “Pow..power. There is power in that name.”)

I think what I like about Jain as a big bad, though, is that she’s legit just an evil person. She doesn’t have an abuse backstory, like what so many content creators like to reference as the reason for someone going insane/evil. She’s clearly very talented and very powerful and very in control, and she’s using those abilities in all the wrong ways just because she can.

Given DDP’s contributions to the Voltron franchise with its female villains (Merla, Jain), I almost can’t believe that the 2016 VLD show didn’t carry these characters forward but instead raised up the all-new Honerva as “needed female villain rep.” But I can definitely see the echoes of Jain in the Honerva that we see throughout VLD.

I also really, really see similarities in how Jain is willing to use her own daughter, Azahki, as a pawn for her own aims. And by the end of the comic, Jain eventually accomplishes bringing Sarga into the mortal plane by sacrificing her own daughter’s body. This pretty hauntingly echoes the lack of maternal instinct seen in Honerva in VLD and Honerva’s malicious interest in and use of Lotor, even post-death in s8.

I feel like I relived Honerva’s interactions with Lotor in s8 when I saw how Jain acts with her own daughter, Azahki:

(Photo description: Azahki has been shot in the battle. Jain kneels down to her and cries, “Daughter. My only daughter.” Azahki says, “Mother...you…you’re crying? I…I’m sorry…you didn’t give me… a choice.” Jain pleads, “You can’t do this, Azahki, not now. After being gone for so long and now…” But then Jain has a complete switch of demeanor. She stands up and declares, “Now you’ve ruined everything! Everything!” Azahki, bewildered, says, “What?” And Jain yells, “I should have killed you in your crib!”)

Another association with Honerva is that Honerva/Haggar killed the original paladins. Likewise, it is Jain who takes down the Council one by one:

(Photo description: Jain breaks into the Council, hand glowing with power and fallen warriors around her, saying, “How could someone with such feeble defenses have eluded me for so long, Altarus? I give you credit for that, at least.”)

(Photo description: Jane is surrounded by the dead bodies of Merlin and Heket. She says, “Now, to finish this.”)

So I guess I’m just fascinated by Jain as a villain and find her similarities with Honerva interesting. In Jain’s case, however, there’s absolutely nothing to be sympathetic with her on, lol.

--

In terms of Lotor’s part:

I think this comic represents probably the most actively hopeful iteration of him that I’ve seen in the Voltron franchise? Like, Dynamite Comics had Lotor moving to ally with Team Voltron to bring down the rift creatures in a massive alliance, but those comics were canceled before we could see the whole story that Brandon Thomas intended. Here, we have a whole, complete story in which Lotor actively does good deeds and lives, wow.

(I didn’t think that was, like, allowed in this franchise, lol?)  

I do think it’s really interesting that here, Lotor comes face-to-face with just pure, unadulterated evil—and it scares him. Just like in VLD, this Lotor is forced to watch Jain decimate an entire planet and enslave its people. Despite being canonically “evil,” Lotor does not take this level of destruction very well:

(Photo description: Empress Jain speaking to an underling, saying, “For now, rid this planet of its luscious environment and warp home.”)

(Photo description: The planet is set ablaze by Jain’s forces. Lotor is looking on from a different ship. He is unsettled by Jain’s power and says, “My god.” His prisoner that he’s watching on Team Voltron’s request (the space pirate Captain Stride), teases, “Nothing like a little global decimation to build character, eh, Lotor?” And Lotor warns, “Stride,” with an upset look on this face.)

His motivations for helping out and connecting with both Team Voltron and King Altarus’s council do start with just wanting to save his own neck. But as the comic progresses, we see him taking larger and larger risks to help protect the team, and he responds more emotionally to the stakes being faced by other allies.  

Jain’s level of evil, and her later attempts to target Princess Allura as a host body for the dark entity Sarga, are what really push Lotor out of the antagonist/villain role into the position of antihero. And I like this exploration of him because Lotor is a really fascinating character in the franchise and usually always a wild card. Like, he has the capacity to play both sides and be unpredictable.

And it’s interesting too that this comic even opens up by acknowledging that. In the beginning, King Altarus and his council are watching Team Voltron and Lotor recalibrate from their crash-landing on Korrinoth. King Altarus notes that Lotor is evil, but that he’s capable of doing good…because of his love for Allura:

(Photo description: King Altarus judging the team: “The girl has a clairvoyance about her, but doesn’t even realize it. I sense something noble about all of them…save for the Drule who should not be trusted. Although his apparent fondness for the woman may cause him to fight his true evil nature at least for a while.”)

Later in the comic, it’s King Altarus himself who leans on Lotor when he thinks all hope is lost. And it’s Lotor who holds him up and tries to take down Jain:

(Photo description: King Altarus leans upon Lotor and mourns, “She’s…she’s done it, Lotor. She’s ruined our chances. Five generations…for nothing.” Lotor has raised a blaster and replies, “Not without going through me first.”)

So we really see this comic actively allow Lotor’s character to do things outside of the typical bounds of a villain. The very person who called him inherently evil is the one wailing to him and counting on him to save the day, lol.

We also see echoes of VLD Lotor’s pride in this comic. The DDP Lotor is also a man of mixed heritage and is very proud of who and what he is.

(Photo description: Lotor is on the battlefield, having slain an enemy who’d called them pathetic. Lotor responds, “Pathetic? My noble blood begs to differ.”)

So I liked that once again, Lotor is actually proud of who he is even though the world around him actively tries to devalue him. I think that’s been something meaningful about the Lotor character that a lot of people have connected to.

In his efforts to assist Team Voltron in reclaiming their own recharged Voltron lions (so that Jain can’t get them), Lotor is actually a very helpful ally as well, and a skilled warrior. So it was fun to see panels of Team Voltron and Lotor fighting together, side by side.

--

THE CLIMAX AND RESOLUTION

--

Ultimately, the evil Empress Jain tries to take over the Voltron from the future, in realizing that Allura has deep, spiritual connections to the machine. She agrees that this makes Allura the perfect host body for the dark entity Sarga, and as their way to control the robot. And so she enacts the rituals to possess Allura:

(Photo description: Allura’s features are mutating unnaturally as Sarga begins to posses her. In the background, Jain calls, “Don’t fight it, child. Don’t fight the honor of becoming a god.” Someone in the background, revealed later to be Lotor, calls out, “No! You can’t do this!”)

With Jain threatening Allura’s life, Lotor steps up to defend her, still holding up the battered King Altarus:  

(Photo description: Lotor yells, “No! Not Allura!” And he shoots Jain through the shoulder.)

(Photo description: Jain snaps, “Lotor! How dare you attack your own kind! I’ll smite my own daughter, let alone a pissant distant grandson!”)

Ultimately, Lotor’s decision to shoot his grandma (what is it with this franchise and matricide/patricide lol) results in Jain being distracted long enough for the combined spiritual/soul energies of Allura, the previous Council members, and Altarus to bring “life” to Voltron.

This completes Voltron as a spiritual being as well—that it’s sentient and not just a robot, but imbued with the hopes and impulses for a defender against the evil attacking them.

(Photo description: Voltron awakens as a sentient robot and stands to move against Jain.)

Realizing that she has lost, Jain flees in a poof of magic—with her daughter, Azahki, oddly disappearing too. The comic ends for them on an unsettling note that Sarga has in fact slipped through to the mortal realm…by choosing Azahki instead of Allura as her host body:

(Photo description: Jain kneels and cries, “Oh mighty Sarga, I humbly beseech thee. Forgive my failures. Forgive my ability to bring you into our world. I beg you to be given a second chance! I vow to you we will see this through.” From behind, someone says, “Don’t be so harsh, mother.” Jain turns around and asks, “Who dares?” A woman in a cloak appears and says, “You may have failed to give me Voltron’s power, my child. But do not fear.” The woman is revealed to be the possessed body of Azahki, Jain’s daughter. Through her body, Sarga says, “I found a body that will do just fine for now.”)

However, we don’t see this thread explored any further. Shortly after the battle, the Galaxy Alliance manages to rebuild a temporal manipulation device to lock in on the missing Team Voltron and Lotor, and pull them back through time.

(Photo description: A strange flying machine appears. Someone asks, “What…what is it?” Allura echoes, “What’s it doing?” Lotor peers at it curiously and says, “I believe it’s scanning us.” The comic panels show the device scanning and identifying people to send back to modern times.)

And so, eventually, this wayward team makes it back home, with the final panels suggesting the  Garrison had to complete a couple of temporal jumps to do it.

FUN LITTLE PIECES ALONG THE WAY

The comic itself had some interesting and funny scenes in it, including the following:

Please enjoy this image of a boi having tamed a dinosaur in the middle of an active battle:  

(Photo description: Prince Lotor sitting atop a large, dinosaur-like creature that he’s tamed, calling joyfully to the paladins, “You can put your toy away, Pidge. I know where to find the lions.”)

Pidge jokes about Hunk and Lance:

(Photo description: Hunk had saved Lance from a shot. In running past them, Pidge calls, “Keep moving, guys! There’ll be time for spooning later.”)

Some time-traveling paradox humor:

  (Photo description: Lotor shooting an ancient Drule, “Hope you’re not one of my forefathers.”)

Some Keith and Lance badgering:

(Photo description: Lance complains, “Keith Kogane seriously isn’t going to lecture me about battlefield romance, is he?”)

Did VLD get the name Kaltor from this comic??? Because Kalthor sounds pretty darn similar to Kaltor from VLD:

(Photo description: Jain calling out for an underling, “Kalthor! Sigh. Kalthor, this effort is beneath me. Extract the information I seek.”)

ALSO BLESS, THIS COMIC LETS ALLURA CUSS:

(Photo description: Princess Allura raises a blaster to use, but it doesn’t work. She says, “What the--? Damn! Now is not the time for you to malfunction! And I do not know how to fix a 1,200-year-old—”)

This comic probably is also the singular place in the DDP comics that offers any evidence whatsoever that Lotor and Allura actually did have positive childhood experiences together prior to his father decimating Arus, helping to explain Lotor’s curious loyalty to Allura throughout:

(Photo description: Lotor standing before Allura and saying, “I knew you’d pull through, Allura. Speaking of treehouses, do you remember climbing the Arusion orchids in the royal gardens when we were children?” Allura responds, “Yes…of course I do. I…”)

And finally, this comic has no issues whatsoever with making fun of itself or the concept of robotic lions:

(Photo description: A space pirate complains to Lotor, “Think about it! How you think this place ends up looking like it does in our time? Looking like Planet Doom?! Meanwhile, the Kitty Cat Club up there gets out without a scratch!”)

VOLTRON IS THE KITTY CAT CLUB, 2008 CONFIRMED

-

CONCLUSION

-

The 5-part comic A Legend Forged (2008) adds an incredible amount of history and lore to the Voltron franchise. It gave me some things that I personally was really craving out of this franchise—including some logic behind the lion imagery, a legit alliance between previously warring groups that doesn’t just end in catastrophe, some adult snark and some good-old fashioned silliness, some deeper exploration into dark entities/spirits, and also just a really powerful villainess that you can love to hate.  

I think the comic ultimately took on the theme of Strength in Unity and fulfilled the concept that people really can work together. Even if the Team Voltron and Lotor and Council alliance was all just temporary, it was still nice to see that alliance come through for the greater good of the universe, instead of leading to more mass insanity like it did in VLD….

I liked that in this iteration, Voltron stood as a collective effort on the part of various worlds who were oppressed by Empress Jain. That helps to tone down the savior complex inherent in the franchise, that at least here, Voltron wasn’t one nation’s attempt to play police for all other people.

From a critical perspective, if you read carefully, there are some instances where you can tell that various alien races are prejudiced against each other and discriminate on the basis of appearance and religion, and even Team Voltron feeds into this at times in their initial assumption that Korrinites are a barbarian race when in fact they’re very intelligent and advanced. These aspects are just not fully reflected on within this comic, but they definitely feed into the conflict as we experience it 1,200 years in the past. Interestingly enough, the comic also makes fun of Team Voltron members who are from Earth as being “primitive” too. So I guess the DDP world does function in a “problematic” state where all of these alien races are struggling with how to interact well with one another. I’m not sure if that baseline would be a potential trigger for someone just entering this series, so I wanted to call it out here.

I do also occasionally find comics hard to read because of the all-caps print and because comics will switch back and forth between past and present, with only small visual markers to warn you. So I don’t think these comics are designed in the most accessible way. But that could just be me.

---

Overall, I think A Legend Forged ranks as one of my more favorite comic iterations of Voltron. It definitely has some differences from both the 1984 and 2016 shows, but it pulls on enough shared content to remain accessible. And while it was a quick read, it felt pretty tightly constructed. I would have liked to see more aftermath and epilogue, but I feel thankful that the story got an ending and that both Team Voltron and Lotor are shown being transported back home. The comic’s similarities and differences compared to VLD made it fun to read and analyze as well.

So yeah, if you get the chance to try reading it yourself, I recommend it! And if you’ve made it to the end of this very long post, thank you for reading!

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Big Secret

Pairing: Kirishima x reader, but also . . . pining!Bakugou

Warnings: Mentions of/implied sex, but nothing actually graphically happening. Gay/Bi/Poly fun stuffs. Bakugou doesn’t like the color pink. Also language from YoU kNoW wHo

Author’s Note:

*sips tea*

So.

Technically, no one asked for this, but I wanted to write it anyway. Then someone requested a sequel, so I made this prequel first (because I had a clearer idea, nothing against them). It doesn’t matter if you read Little Secret or Big Secret first, so do whatever if you’re new. 

Little Secret did surprisingly well, so I was more than happy to jump back into the mini AU. This takes place about a month before the events of Little Secret. I could not pick whether this is angst or crack, so I made it both. Both is good.

This is my first crack at angst (haha, see what I did there? I’m so smart and funny). If it’s bad, then it’s kind of just practice for me. If it’s good and you decide you like it . . . hooray! I did something right for once.

Anyway, I’ll shut up now. Enjoy!

-Sugar

⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙

⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙

Bakugou stood in front of your door, scowling as usual.

Ever since you and Kirishima had started dating, it felt like the red-haired hard boy was impossible to be reached, constantly spending all his time with you. Bakugou had expected as much when the two of you had announced to him that you were a couple, but this was starting to get ridiculous. He was starting to feel a little too left out, getting angry at how much he found himself missing your presences as you had once hung out interchangeably in all three of your rooms. But that was before, when you were all just friends.

Just friends.

Bakugou shook his head before rapping impatiently at your door. "Oi, (N/N), have you seen Kirishima?"

"I'm in here."

Katsuki immediately recognized the sound of the redhead's voice on the other side of your door, causing him to frown. Of course. Just as he'd anticipated.

"It's open," you called.

And you were in there too. Gods, he hoped he didn't just catch you two doing something disgusting, like kissing or worse. He was almost to the point of praying that the two of you were at least decently clothed when he opened the door.

What he most certainly didn't expect was the sight before him, immediately smacking him in the face the moment he walked in.

Kirishima had just gotten up from laying belly down on the floor, clad only in a pair of loose black sweatpants, defined muscles clearly out for anyone to see. You were right next to him, sitting in your cute pajamas. Bakugou had tried telling you off for copying him by wearing that black tank top like he did, but you had insisted that it had been as much your idea as it had been his. His gaze wandered to your bare legs, accentuated by a pair of short (F/C) shorts.

The most shocking thing however, was the fact that both your faces were slathered in some sort of mint-green paste, hair tied up and pushed back with fuzzy animal-themed headbands.

"Need something, Bakubro?" Kirishima asked, yanking him out of his thoughts before he could get too far down a rabbit hole that would be painfully embarrassing to climb himself back out of.

"You have my notes. I need them."

It was true, Kirishima had asked to borrow Katsuki's lesson notes, like he always did at the end of the week. Upon finding the boy absent from his room, Bakugou could have easily let himself in and taken them off his desk, right where they always were. But for some reason, he'd been driven to go out and find the redhead. He didn't know why. Maybe it was to torture himself. He never knew why he even still bothered being around you two.

There was a new feeling ever since you'd become official; a sickness churning in the pit of Katsuki's stomach. Oddly, he vaguely recognized it from when that damned Deku would constantly show him up, but this one was always much stronger, somehow even more painful.

Why did he wince every time you went to grab Eijirou's hand? Why did he find himself with the urge to go be sick when he'd first seen Eijirou lean over to give you a peck on the cheek? It had been because it was gross couple stuff, right? Bakugou wasn't here for all that nasty touchy-feely stuff. He'd seen his parents do it, and it disgusted him. And now his best friends were doing it with each other; sometimes right in front of him, sometimes when you thought he couldn't see.

But he saw, and he knew. He'd heard you, late that night after training. Heard the two of you noisily entering Kirishima's room, clicking the lock on the door as you'd stumbled to the opposite wall. He'd listened to everything: the telltale sounds of skin meeting skin and coming together. He'd heard both your sweet, pretty voices, desperately trying to keep quiet as foreign waves of feelings coursed through your bodies on the other side of the wall. The thin wall, where every sound was as plain as if the barrier hadn't been there at all.

He should have stopped himself then. He should have given up all hope, closed down all his feelings. He'd laid awake the whole night, thinking about how his two best friends were now seeing each other in this way. You were third years, and having relationships within the class was to be expected. But his best friends? Together? And now it was just him. The sideliner. The outcast. The third wheel. Alone.

He'd been forced to listen. It hadn't been his choice. It was even less his choice when the two of you had approached him the next day, listening one last torturous time to you as Kirishima sheepishly explained that the two of you had become an item. Bakugou pretended like he didn't already know.

He should have stopped hanging out with you, distancing himself as the two of you grew closer. But this had all happened almost four months ago, and he hadn't been able to force himself away from either of you. He couldn't tell if he resented you both or genuinely enjoyed your company.

What did it matter? It was only his stupid emotions, stupid feelings bleeding through his enforced walls. He had other things to focus on, better things. Like being a hero. Training to be at the top of the class, climbing ever higher to surpass All Might and be the number one hero. That was his goal. That was his purpose. It had nothing to do with his idiot, overly supportive best friends—if he could even call you that anymore.

"Your notes?" Eijirou's voice questioned.

"Yeah," Bakugou said. "Where are they?"

"My desk," Eijirou said. "Like always. My door should be open, you could have just taken them."

Bakugou scowled. "Oh," was all he said.

"Hey, we're having a spa night," you piped up.

"I noticed," Bakugou deadpanned.

"Ooh, you should totally join us, Bakubro!" Kirishima's green-caked face slipped into a grin with ease, flashing his ridiculously cute sharp teeth.

"Yeah!" It was your turn to beam, face lighting up in your smile. "Spa night for three!"

Just the three of you. That sounded wonderful. And also absolutely terrible.

Bakugou scoffed. "You're not going to get me to do your childish nonsense. I need to go study. And then sleep."

"The gren-nerd returns," you said, rolling your eyes. "Come on, Blasty, there is such a thing as too much sleep."

"Yeah," Kirishima agreed. "Besides, it's a Friday night. You have all weekend to do whatever. Have some fun with us and lighten up for a change!"

Katsuki glared at you, hovering inside the door frame. You smirked and began pumping your fists in front of you, maintaining eye contact with him.

"Spa night, spa night, spa night—" Your voice took on a low, stage whispered chant, and soon Kirishima joined in next to you.

"Spa night! Spa night! Spa night—!"

"Fucking dammit," Bakugou finally said, slamming the door shut behind him and stomping over to where you were sitting in the middle of your floor. He hurled himself down into a sitting position, trying to make every possible inch of his body language convey that he didn't want to be here. "You're just a pair of idiots and losers."

"I refuse to be cast down by your simplistic labels and insults," you said dramatically, placing a hand on your chest. "Gimme your face. Now."

Bakugou jerked his head back from you, even though you technically hadn't even reached for him yet. "What are you going to do?" he asked suspiciously.

"We must start with the face mask. Eiji, go get him a headband."

"A what?! I am not—"

"Yes, you are," you said firmly. "Unless you want to go take another shower to get it all out of your hairline, because, trust me, it gets everywhere."

Kirishima came back and flopped back down beside you, handing over a fuzzy, pink and white fabric headband with small bear ears stitched onto the side. Bakugou looked from it to the ones you were wearing. You donned a sparkly pink unicorn themed one, decorated with a horn, ears and a fluffy puff of a mane. Kirishima wore one that was very similar to the headband you were now holding, except his was black and white, clearly panda themed.

Katsuki pointed at Eijirou's head. "I want his."

The redhead blinked. "What?"

"Yours is cooler and not pink. I want that one."

You sighed. "Katsuki, it doesn't matter."

"I'm not wearing pink!"

"What's wrong with pink?" Eijirou asked.

"It's too girly!"

"Hey, pink can be a manly color," Kirishima argued. You nodded your head in agreement.

"Then why aren't you wearing it?" Bakugou shot back.

Eijirou blinked. "I, uh—um—"

"See, you don't want to wear it either!"

"That's not—!"

Bakugou lunged towards Kirishima, grabbing at the item keeping his red bangs pushed off his forehead.

"AAH—hey! It's gonna smear—!"

The boys took a moment to scuffle, Eijirou desperately trying to hold back Katsuki's arms as they grabbed at him. You took a moment to look into an invisible camera like you were on The Office, heaving a sigh.

"Alright, that's enough." You pulled Katsuki off your boyfriend by the back of his shirt collar, shoving the pink headband into his hand. "You can either wear the headband, or you can let it get in your hair. Eijirou was here first, so that one's his. Got it?"

Bakugou donned his 'I just bit into a lemon' face, spitting out a "tch" before reluctantly putting it on his head, pulling it up so his forehead was on display.

You noticed the ears were a bit off kilter, leaning a little too far to the left. It set off a tic in your face, making you reach over and straighten it out. You couldn't help but notice how Bakugou froze when your hands and face came nearer to his own, breaths stuttering and slowing to a stop. You sheepishly finished adjusting it, sitting back when you were satisfied.

In all honesty, you'd tried to ignore Bakugou's shift in behavior around you. He was as abrasive and irritable as ever, but there was something in the way you'd noticed him looking at Kirishima. You'd gotten briefly jealous until you realized he often acted the same around you. You told yourself to pay no heed to it, and now certainly wasn't the time to be sorting out and guessing at the feelings of your emotionally closed-off best friend.

"If either one of you takes my picture like this," Bakugou said. "I'm gonna fucking kill the both of you."

"Sure."

You glanced over and made eye contact with Eijirou. One of you had to do just that without him noticing by the end of the night. He was simply too cute not to; the pink matching his ash blond hair just right.

You tore your gaze away from Katsuki. I have a boyfriend right here, who I love very very much, you reminded yourself.

That much was true. Maybe you weren't allowed to order off the menu anymore, but it couldn't hurt to take another glance.

"Alright," you announced. "I'm getting the face mask back out." You got up and walked to your felt storage container of toiletries, grabbing the same green tube and package of face wipes you'd used only minutes prior.

"So why the fuck do you have three of these?" Bakugou asked, referring to his newly acquired pink ears.

"Sleepovers, duh. Also there was a sale and they're really cute and cheap, so there."

Bakugou let out another tch as you sat back down in front of him. You pulled out a wipe and began to work at his face, removing any oils that might have gotten on there throughout the day.

"Relax your face," you ordered, and Bakugou surprisingly complied. "You'll get wrinkles if you keep doing that. You know, the whole frowny thing."

"You sound like my mother, dumbass," he commented, keeping his lips turned down in a frown.

"Well, your mother is right."

"Feh."

You ignored his dismissive noise. "You have really nice skin, you know," you commented, moving back to your seated position and tossing the wipe in the general direction of your trash bin. "Do you have a routine? I found out today that Eijirou doesn't so that's what got us started."

The redhead shrugged behind you, having taken out his phone while you tended to Bakugou.

"Um, I wash it sometimes," Bakugou admitted. "My mom said something about how our sweat helps keep it clear, but she still sends me stuff every now and then."

"Neat." You sighed. "Wish my sweat actually helped my skin. Other than, you know, keeping it cool and whatever."

You took the tube from the floor next to you, popping the cap open and squeezing some onto your fingers.

"What is that stuff?"

"Avocado oatmeal clay mask," you said, glancing at the label. "Purifying."

"Huh."

You leaned forward again on your knees in front of him, beginning to spread the green paste over his cheeks and forehead like you'd done to Kirishima.

"I'm not a baby, you know," he protested. "I can do it myself."

"Oh, come on," you countered. "It's fun having your friends take care of you. Just let me do this."

Bakugou sighed through his nose. He had to admit, there was a teeny tiny part of him that liked how close you were, the way your fingers glided over his cheeks and forehead.

But you had a boyfriend. A very sweet, loving, cheerful boyfriend. He was yours and you were his, and Bakugou was . . . unavailable. He'd stay yours and Kirishima's friend, and he'd just have to accept it.

You finished fixing up his face, going back to your criss-crossed sitting position and wiping your fingers off with a tissue.

"Now what?" Bakugou asked.

"We can wash it off in about ten minutes, we just have to wait for it to dry."

Bakugou sat back, assessing the sensation of the mask on his face. It was cold and sticky, but he had to admit it smelled good. He'd never done anything like this before, and the tiniest part of him actually didn't hate it.

You started talking about a meme you'd seen on Instagram, and you laughed with Kirishima. You both were cute in your face masks and headbands. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but maybe Katsuki would be willing to sit through something like this again if it meant seeing you both like this.

You sat back and seemed to go into thought for a moment, as if trying to decide what to do next. "Eijirou, let me see your nails." He presented them to you, his face questioning. You studied his cuticles, clicking your tongue. "Imma get you some nail oil. We could probably all use some."

You got up again and grabbed the little bottle, twisting off the cap and beginning to brush the liquid onto your boyfriend's nails.

"What does that do, exactly?" he asked, watching you concentrate.

"Strengthens your nails," you explained. "Keeps them hydrated so they won't crack and break off so easily."

"Look at that Bakugou!" Kirishima proudly proclaimed. "I’m gonna have strong, manly nails!"

You giggled, beginning to blow on them so the solution would soak in and dry faster.

"Babe, I just realized something," Kirishima said.

"Yeah?"

"We look like Shrek."

You looked up at him, his face caked in the solid green mask, then turned your gaze to Bakugou. "You know, I wasn't going to say anything, but, yeah, we totally do."

You both started cracking up again, and Eijirou laid down on the floor as he laughed. He had the sweetest laugh, the absolute best. You provided hefty competition, however; your slightly higher voice adding to your own pretty sound.

"No hate on my mans Shrek, though," Kirishima said, sitting back up as his audible joy died down a bit.

"Shrek is love, Shrek is life," you said, nodding your head solemnly.

"I thought I was love. For you." Kirishima's expression changed to puppy eyes, pretending to be more hurt than he was.

"Uh, yes. But I've known Shrek longer than you, so he represents life."

"What the fuck, guys."

You both ignored Bakugou's comment, proceeding to bicker.

"But he doesn't love you like I do," Kirishima argued.

"He's shrekxy."

"I—" Kirishima blinked, shaking his head a little in bewilderment.

"Fite me, it's a scientific fact."

Instead, Kirishima turned his gaze to the blond, who was watching the full affair with barely concealed intrigue. "Bakubro, I'm getting jealous of a fictional 2-D green swamp ogre. I think my girlfriend is going to leave me for him."

"Actually he's 3-D," you corrected.

"See?" Kirishima exaggeratedly gestured at you in mock offense. "She doesn't appreciate me anymore for who I am. I'm going to rebound to you, Katsu."

Bakugou stiffened at the proposal. He knew it was just a joke, but now he couldn't get the thought out of his head of actually being with Kirishima. Allowing his hand to grasp his. Placing a kiss on the boy's cheek. Waking up next to him in the morning. Was that his problem? He wanted what you had with Shitty Hair? Or did he want what Kirishima had with you?

"Like I'd ever date you!" Bakugou finally spat, after maybe a bit too long of a pause. "You're a dumbass idiot, just like your girlfriend. You two are perfect for each other!"

Both you and Kirishima blinked at Katsuki's outburst, turning to make eye contact.

"Thank . . . you?" you said, unsure if you should take it as a compliment.

You were both used to Bakugou being brash and loud, often yelling insults he probably didn't mean. But this was a bit unusual, even for him.

What is going on with you, Katsuki?

You sat back and made a little "pthbb" sound with your lips, taking the cuticle oil and starting to apply it to your own nails.

"So when are you going to go back to rubbing my back?" Eijirou asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Or is that only for Shrek?"

You snorted. "I love you, Eiji. I'd give you a kiss on the cheek to prove it, but you've got some artificial avocado there."

Bakugou's frown shifted a bit. At least the masks were good for one more thing.

"Where?" Eijirou teased, feeling at his face as though it wasn't slathered in a thick layer of green paste.

"Ha ha," you said dryly. "I'll go back to personal masseuse-ing after we wash these off."

"When's that?"

You leaned over and tapped at Bakugou's face, finding his still a little moist. "Five minutes," you wagered.

Eijirou started a conversation about training, lightheartedly arguing with Bakugou over one of his techniques.

You watched the nuances of how the two interacted. They'd been friends for so long, they just sort of flowed together and bounced off each other perfectly. Kirishima was clearly more physical, wrapping an arm around Bakugou's shoulders or touching him on his arm or his back. Bakugou never yelled about this like he would with probably anyone else, instead choosing to silently glower while Eijirou finished his thought.

Finally it was time for the masks to be washed off, the three of you crowding around the sink in your cramped bathroom. Eijirou helped you wipe yours away first with some damp paper towels, delighting in being so close to you and your beautiful face. Bakugou opted to simply wash his own off in the sink, splashing cold water over his cheeks. He watched the little green flakes and chunks swirl down into the drain, some of them catching stubbornly on the porcelain surface.

He straightened and looked at his newly washed face in the mirror. He didn't look or feel any different, sans the fuzzy pink bear ears that still wrapped around his forehead. Bakugou tugged them off, stepping away from the sink so Kirishima could take his own turn in washing.

The blond watched the both of you finish up, Eijirou rubbing gently at his face while you patted toner into yours. There was something so mundane about it, even in your tight closet of a toilet space. He liked the little smile you took on as you gently slapped liquid onto your cheeks, and how Eijirou squeezed his eyes shut and gave little shakes of his head to escape from the rivulets of water streaming over his features.

Kirishima stood back up, taking a look at himself in the mirror much like Bakugou had done moments before. "Wait a minute—I still have acne!" He leaned in and closer examined a small cluster of raised bumps.

"Of course you do, ya goof," you said, snickering and setting down your bottle of toner. "It's just a clay mask. If you want magic, use calamine lotion overnight. That should do the trick."

"Why didn't we do that instead?"

"Because these are more fun. And a lot shorter."

Eijirou shrugged and pulled his own headband off, soft red bangs falling over his eyes. Katsuki took a second to admire it. What would it feel like under his fingertips? He wondered for a brief moment how soft it truly was before he ripped his eyes away again. No. No. NO.

"So are you going to rub my back again?" Eijirou asked, puppy-dog eyes shining at you hopefully.

"Maybe later," you said, sliding your headband over your head and undoing your hair. "Right now it's Katsuki's turn. And mine, if it's not too much trouble."

Kirishima sighed tragically, slumping forward. You grinned and went up behind him, rolling the pads of your thumbs into his shoulder blades. He tilted his head back, sighing and closing his eyes at the feeling.

"Babyyy," he said, drawing out the last syllable. "Don't tease me like that."

You giggled and kissed his shoulder. "I'll get back to you soon enough, just be patient."

Bakugou watched the two of you yet again. He had a strange feeling like this was more complicated for him than it should be. Why couldn't he just pick one of you to hate more than the other and move on? Why couldn't he decide which one of you he would rather be in your situation?

"Yo, Katsu," you said to him, bringing him out of his own head. "Get over here." You had sat yourself back down on the floor in the middle of your room, and Kirishima was stationed behind you.

Bakugou walked over and flopped down in front of you, unsure of what to expect.

"Lay down perpendicular to me," you said, tapping his shoulder.

"What? Why?"

"You'll relax more. Do it."

The blond grumbled a bit more before turning himself and laying down on his stomach. "Happy, dumbass?"

"Indeed." You began to work at his shoulders through the barrier of his shirt. Behind you, your boyfriend did the same, running his large hands over the muscles on your back. "How often do you get this done?" you asked the boy under you.

"What? A massage?" Bakugou was really trying to ignore how good your fingers felt on him, pushing and applying pressure in places he didn't even know he needed.

"Yeah."

"Never," he admitted.

"Wait, what?" Eijirou said from behind you.

"Yeah, how?" you asked, stilling your hands. Bakugou resisted the temptation to squirm under you to get you to resume what you had been doing. "That can't be good what with all the training you do."

"I have those foam rollers," he said. "They work just fine."

"Aw, come on," Kirishima said. Bakugou was glad his face was more or less planted on the floor so he wouldn't have to look up at him. "It feels so much better when you have someone else do it for you."

"Tch."

"Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki," you tsked, going back to your motions on him.

The blond quietly sighed through his nose, allowing himself for a moment to sink into the feeling of your fingers dancing over his muscles. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, it felt really nice. He was surprised at how skilled you were, alternating between your thumbs and your knuckles to provide the most pressure, working out tension as you went along. Your hands, which were so small compared to his and his friend's.

Maybe he was starting to like this a little too much.

You and Eijirou had picked up another conversation about nothing. Bakugou was more than content to zone in and out of it, picking up on your even voices. He listened to the little breathy sighs you'd let escape as the redhead pushed into your back much like you were doing to Katsuki. They were almost too cute, and the more he was left in his own mind, the less comfortable he became.

He began to shuffle under you, a part of him wanting to get up and leave, another willing himself to stay.

"You comfortable, Bakugou?" you asked him. "Want a pillow or something?"

The way you'd said his family name; Bakugou. He was an outsider. He shouldn't be here. He pushed himself up from the floor and out from under your hands.

"Woah," Kirishima said. "Where you going, man?"

"I need to leave." Bakugou rammed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and turned to your door.

"Wait, are you okay?" you asked, moving to get up too. "Did I do something wrong?"

Bakugou ignored you, adjusting his black t-shirt as he flung your door open and shut behind him.

You slumped back into Eijirou in defeat. "What is going on with him?" you lamented, eyes glued to the closed door.

Your boyfriend rested his chin on the top of your head, pondering as you pressed into him. "I have no idea. He's been acting weird for a while . . . . Could it be something going on at home?"

Your eyebrows scrunched a bit in thought. "I don't know about that. Do you think it could be us?"

Kiri shifted himself so he could lean in and look at your face inquisitively. "What do you mean by that?"

"I don't know," you shrugged. "It's just that . . . you and I are together and he's . . . alone. I mean, we're still friends, but he might feel . . . left out."

"Ohhh." Kirishima sat back again, pulling you further into his chest. "What should we do?"

You sighed, curling up against his bare skin. "I don't know."

...

Bakugou sat, finally alone in his room. What was happening? What was going on? What was wrong with him?

He hated this, these new feelings. The jealousy he felt whenever you and Kirishima were close and he was left to the side. He wanted to join you, feeling your arms wrapped around him and Eijirou's kiss on his cheek.

But he would never be able to.

Surely, you both would hate him if he said anything. You'd think he was just being sad and greedy, maybe even a creep. It would completely destroy your relationship with him, and he'd lose the two best friends he'd ever had.

Katsuki's bed dipped beneath him as he sat down onto it, placing his head in his hands. Infinite loops of yes and no spiraled forever around in his brain, willing him to just do something.

But he couldn't. There was nothing he could do. He'd have to choose either parting ways with you both or just feeling this way . . . forever, keeping it to himself. He was tired of it already. He wanted the feelings to go away. He wanted to stop hurting like this and being so confused. His rational mind told him to just turn and leave. It made sense. He'd be able to focus fully on his ambitions and become the best hero ever. And yet a tiny, stubborn little part of him knew, just knew that he wouldn't be able to go. There was something between the three of you, and even the tsundere-lord Bakugou Katsuki couldn't ignore it.

He laid back on his bed, closing his eyes. In the dark, he listened. But this time there was no sound. His mind wouldn't rest however, racing and screaming and hurting. It would be hard, but Bakugou would have to do it.

This would all just have to be his big secret.

⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙

[Little Secret]

[Disclosed]

Author’s Note:

No happy ending?? Well guess what, this is a three-parter. The epilogue/sequel/part three will be purely Kiribaku(+you) fluff, so get ready for that. I know I am!! Also remember Little Secret exists. CUDDLES!! and TICKLES!! YES!

Thanks for reading,

-Sugar

Taglist: @basicaegyo​ @iiminibattlehero​ @katsugay​​ @nabo39​​ @pyrofanatic​​ @sendhelpimstupid​ @sokkasangel​​ @xoxopam4​​

[thosewickedlovelies]

AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: Pasteles de Gloria (part 3)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: T for mature themes (mentions of sex and violence)

Summary: Javier thanks you...appropriately, this time. Connie and Javier have a chat <3

Tags: Mention of blood. Reader starts to have Thots (same, girl)

Word count: 3,740

A/N: So their POVs in this chapter overlap a little bit...sorry if that throws anyone off, I’m still getting used to writing reader insert fics. The dessert and the Spanish are explained at the end :) Enjoy!

Masterlist

--

You hadn’t seen Javier in over a week. The first few days after that conversation had been a whirlwind of emotions- worry over whether you’d said the right things, hope that he might feel the same (plus fear that he wouldn’t), and eventually anger at his total lack of response. Until Connie told you that he and Steve had been sent on some mission.

“Nothing dangerous, but they’ll be gone for a few days. Javi must not have gotten the chance to say goodbye.” Uttered without a second’s hesitation, like it was unthinkable that Javier wouldn’t have explained himself to you if he could.

Maybe Connie knew something you didn’t.

So another several days had passed, with worry becoming the dominant theme; all your other initial feelings faded into the background as you wondered how ‘not dangerous’ DEA work could really be.

You’re settling in for another restless evening when there’s a rap on the door. Your nerves leap and jangle- you aren’t supposed to being seeing Connie again until tomorrow, so who…?

You peer through the cracked door before wrenching it open the rest of the way, your heart roaring in your ears. Javier Peña stands before you. He holds a bottle in one hand and a paper bag in the other, and looks uncharacteristically nervous. You forget you’re theoretically supposed to be upset with him as you stare at each other, wide-eyed.

He clears his throat. “Hey. Uh, sorry I disappeared on you. Boss sent me and Steve on a mission, I had to leave from work.” So Connie had been right on both accounts. He hadn’t had time to call you, and he would have if he could.

When you wait, he continues. “I thought, since I interrupted your evening the last time I was here, I could make it up to you.” He holds up the bottle, which you’re surprised to recall is indeed the same wine that you had opened the night he came to your place after reopening his wound.

You look at him in wonder, but he’s not finished. “Also, well...I can’t bake for shit, but I know somewhere that can. You ever had a pastel de gloria?”  He lifts the paper bag, cracks a small, still-nervous grin.

“I haven’t,” you confirm, an answering smile growing on your face, touched by the sweetness of his gesture and the implications it holds.

“Well, you can try them tonight, because-” his confidence apparently bolstered by your response, he holds the bottle out to you, brow quirking in request. You take it, bemused at the prospect of there still being more to his plan, and he digs something out of his back pocket with an air of presentation. “-I found the sequel to a certain movie while at a market recently. I was going to bring it to Steve and Connie’s but...now seemed like a better time to watch it.”

You almost laugh out loud as you take in the cover of the tape in his hand. It’s the sequel to that movie night travesty, all right. That Javier would do all of this...you hardly know what to say.

You hope whatever expression is on your face is saying it for you, though, as you look up at him. “Thank you, Javier. This is...amazing.” And it is, much more so than would have been necessary to thank you for helping with his leg, or to make up for his unplanned disappearance after you turned down his proposition.

He chuckles, looking down in embarrassment. “You don’t actually have to watch this shit movie if you don’t want to. That part was just a joke.” You could swear he’s blushing, the faintest tinge of color in his cheeks beneath the white hallway lights. “But you should try these pastries, because they are something else.” He offers you the bag, his body shifting sideways slightly, as if he intends to hand off his gifts and then disappear. As if his wide, guileless, puppy dog eyes and the unconscious pout to his lips weren’t begging otherwise.

Well. “Of course I want to watch this shit movie, Javi. As long as you watch it with me.” You give him a teasing grin. “It was much more fun with a spoilsport.”

Relief spills over his features, washing the tension from his shoulders and the breath from his lungs. Turning away toward the kitchen, you miss the true extent of it, leaving the door open for him as you head back inside. “Bring those to the couch, I’ll get us some plates,” you call over your shoulder.

Javier follows more slowly, collecting himself. By the time you join him in the living room, carrying, plates, wine glasses, and napkins, he’s fiddling with your VCR. You pour the wine while he sets it up, although you find yourself distracted by the shifting valleys of muscle in his back beneath his tight-fitting shirt, the bottle in your hands suspended uselessly above a glass. You curse as you almost spill.

“Everything okay?” Javi joins you on the couch, a careful, hesitant distance away.

“Of course!” You’re quick to assure him. “Now, tell me about these pastries,” you urge, eyes sparkling. He unloads them onto a plate, stacking rounded pastries into a rough pyramid, each one golden brown, sprinkled with sugar, and the size of a small fist. His voice softens as he tells you about the bakery and the older woman who runs it, who insists everyone call her ‘abuela’, even grown men and gringos like him. How he discovered it entirely by accident one day, following his nose.

“The filling is usually pasta de guayaba- guava paste- but they can also have arequipe, or cheese, or all three. She gave me a some extras, so I’m not sure which ones are which here,” he says, suddenly brusque. He gestures for you to take one first, a look on his face you can’t quite identify.

You’re definitely at risk of drooling as you pick up a pastel, Javier watching you intently. Puff pastry flakes over your plate as you take a bite.

And close your eyes in relish. A trio of flavors oozes over your tongue, each complementing the other, all of them ensconced in a sheath of sugary, flakey pastry. The creamy, neutral tang of the cheese mellowing the tart-sweet burst of fruity guava, both flavors coated in the thick, sticky-sweet burnt sugar taste of dulce de leche.

Swallowing, your eyes pop wide to look at Javier again. It’s a near-physical reaction he has to your sudden attention, an almost-flinch away from it as he awaits your verdict.

“Javier.” Your voice is serious. With slow deliberance, you lean toward him intently, reaching out to rest your hand on his forearm. You let the anticipation s t r e t c h.

“You have got to tell me how to make these.”

The breath leaves him in a rush, a huff of relief and and laughter at your dramatics. He’s hyper-aware of your hand on his skin- the casual touch reverberates through him in a way he should probably be more concerned about. It’s the first time you’ve touched him for non-medical reasons, but it heals him all the same; he feels warm, something inside him yielding in your presence.

He clears his throat. “Like I said, I can’t bake for shit. But...I can ask the abuela.” His free hand rubs at his neck, slipping beneath the collar of his shirt. The movement draws your attention, and your gaze continues lower, to the two buttons he seems to perpetually leave undone. The smooth, flushed skin beneath. Was it warm in here?

You stand abruptly. “Is it warm in here? I’ll flip the fan on. You want to press play?” You throw him a quick smile as you cross the room to the wall switch. You flip off the overhead light while you’re there, leaving just the tall floor lamp casting a bright but cozy glow.

Javi obliges, the space dimming briefly as the opening sequence begins. You plop back down on the sofa, deliberately settling slightly closer to him- friends distance away. Handing him a wine glass, you raise yours expectantly. “¡Salud!” you beam.

Despite your cheer, you feel a trickle of nervous anticipation. What shape would your relationship take with only the two of you to guide it? You’d never been alone alone together for the express purpose of just hanging out.

Javier clinks his glass with yours. “Salud,” he murmurs, his eyes crinkling upward slightly.

You order yourself to stop getting in your head. Humming around a mouthful of plum-purple wine, you set down the glass in favor of your plate, loading it with several more pastels. Blissful satisfaction fills you as a second bite confirms their perfection, and you lick sugar off your lips with a happy sigh. Beside you, Javi’s empty fingers twitch. He takes a large gulp of wine.

The movie rapidly proves to be of the same ‘quality’ as its parent. Just as quickly, you realize you didn’t need to worry about getting on with Javier. You end up having great fun at the film’s expense, frequently pausing it so Javi can explain in more detail why this or that would never happen in real life. It’s fascinating hearing him speak with such confidence, observing the minute ripples of his face as it contorts in thought. Despite his superior knowledge, he’s never condescending toward you, listening patiently to your questions and trying to answer in ways you can relate to. He sneers freely at the characters onscreen though, and you can completely picture him sitting at a one of those government conference tables, telling some poor bastard how bad his ideas are with his trademark dismissive, deadpan attitude.

There are other fascinating things about him, too. Like the way his short shirtsleeves to stretch over his arm muscles, subtle but visible, highlighted by the room’s long shadows. Like the tempting cords of his neck when he tips his head back to drink. Like more of his self-conscious glances, when he bites into a pastel and crumbs and sugar cling to his mustache. He hurriedly swipes his palm down the hairs, but you’ve caught him from the corner of your eye. You press your lips together to smother a giggle, but when he glides his tongue over his lip to catch any stray bits, your smile fades as your stomach swoops. You can sense him regarding you again as you fix your gaze on the tv. You wish you knew what was going on in his head.

Too soon the movie ends. The credits roll, but Javier shows no signs of leaving, leisurely taking out a pack of cigarettes and tapping it against his hand. “Do you mind?” he checks.

You wrinkle your nose but allow it. “As long as you do it at the window.” You stand, leaving Javi still seated, and spread your arms in a stretch, attempting to blink away some of the sleepy wine haze. “Be right back,” you tell him, taking the opportunity for a bathroom break.

After, however, before crossing the kitchen to rejoin him, you pause on the threshold of the hall. Your head tilts as you run your gaze over his unguarded stature. Javier leans against the window’s edge, his head and torso turned to exhale smoke out into the night. It doesn’t all escape immediately, gray twisting in the air around his profile, and you lose yourself in the brooding picture he paints. He believes he’s alone, but doesn’t look like he’s enjoying a peaceful smoke break- more like he’s weighed down by his thoughts, his eyes sweeping over the street without taking it in. Doesn’t he have anyone to share his burdens with?

You shuffle your feet loudly before you turn the corner, revealing your presence so he can react accordingly. As you approach, he stubs out his cigarette on the narrow sill and turns to face you, his shoulders relaxing.

“I thought of something else about that last scene,” he greets, and you’re happy to let him go on about the film, savoring the rich timbre of his voice. You talk for a little while longer, lounging by the window. He asks you more about yourself now, and you haltingly tell him about your background, how you came to arrive in Columbia. He drinks in every word, and you get the feeling he’s storing this all away, ready to reference later. As if he intends for there to be a later.

Finally it comes up. Your last interaction. “Look, I’m sorry about last time,” Javier begins. “When I, you know-” he nods jerkily in lieu of saying “tried to seduce you” out loud. “I, uh. I don’t know what I was thinking.” His gaze drops the same way it did when he was withholding how he got the cut on his leg.

You thought you had understood some of his thought process, but maybe there was more to it. “I think you do,” you disagree wryly. One shoulder lifts in a shrug. “But it’s okay, Javier. I just...didn’t want you to sleep with me just because you felt like you owed me.”

It’s a struggle to hold his gaze, yours ranging over his face and chest, searching for a reaction to what you’ve left unspoken. That you may well want him to sleep with you, but only because he actually wants to, wants you, specifically. Javier is smart, and clearly experienced with women- there’s no way he’ll miss the implication.

The longer you hold his gaze, the more clearly you see his thoughts churning, turning over everything that’s occurred between you and what it might mean, with all the analytical precision his career requires. That’s who you’ve been seeing, you realize, every time his provocative persona misses its mark with you- Agent Peña, the man who puts up a shield of derisive disdain so no one gets too close, so no one wants to. Until someone comes along who says fuck that, for whatever reasons of their own- like Steve, who demanded that Javi let him in as much as he could stand to because they’re partners, damn it, for better or for worse. Like Connie, who informed him that your well-being is important to my husband’s, so by god, you’re going to let me care about you. Like you- his neighbor and wallmate who, despite being faced with Agent Peña's rakish side, could see that there was more under the surface than just blood oozing from a knife wound.

As if realizing the window this moment is giving you, Javier shakes himself free of it, pushing off the wall. “Well, I won’t keep you up any longer,” he says gruffly. “Thanks for...this.” He gestures to the coffee table behind the couch you’re leaning on, the silent tv static jittering on the wine and pastries.

You stand too, unhurried. “Thank you, Javier. For the company, as well,” you say with sincerity.

He nods, seeming torn, perpetually caught in some internal struggle around you. Finally, he says a single word in farewell, his voice a low caress: “Vecinita.”

He starts for the door without waiting for a reply. Blinking in surprise, you spin in place. “Buenas noches, Javi,” you call, hoping your understanding reaches him.

You think it does, because he pauses for a second with his hand on the doorknob; before, with a last glance, exiting, leaving the hope kindling in your chest as the only proof it really happened.

--

Javier has a hard time focusing at work the next day. He and Steve have a lot of paperwork to get through, mostly material from their recent mission, but every time he shifts in his shitty desk chair he remembers how comfortable your couch was. How at ease you seemed sitting next to him on it. How badly he wanted to reach out to you, see if you felt as soft as you looked in that setting.

“Fuck,” he swears. The paper in his hand is the same one he’s been staring at for the past ten minutes.

Huffing, he shoves his work aside, snatches up his jacket, and heads home early. But his apartment offers even fewer distractions, so with a growl of frustration, he downs a whiskey and stalks back to the door.

Only to be stopped in his tracks by Connie, standing on his stoop with a coffee pot in hand. She looks startled by his sudden appearance, her fist still raised to knock.

“Hi, Javi. I heard you get back a little while ago, and I haven’t seen you since you and Steve returned. I thought we could catch up.” She speaks tentatively, clearly wary of his black scowl and riled energy.

“Did she send you?” he asks, eyes narrowing, jutting his chin to indicate your door.

Connie frowns in confusion. “No, I won’t be seeing her for a a day or three. She’s got an intensive-care patient at the hospital who needs around-the-clock attention.” Her own eyes narrow. “Should she have sent me? Did you do something?”

“No,” Javier retorts curtly. “Just- didn’t know if this was brought on by some of your gossip, is all.” Resigned to his interrogation, he steps back, opening the door for her.

Connie continues to glare suspiciously as she passes, but heads into his kitchen nonetheless, getting out sugar and mugs in a familiar ritual. She knew better than to bother checking the fridge for milk.

Once seated in the dining room, however, she doesn’t pry any further about you, or what he may have done, only continuing a previous line of conversation from their last chat. It helps, but as she gets caught up telling some work story, Javier’s attention drifts again.

He inhales from the cigarette between his fingers, remembering the taste of the one last night, filtering through the flavors of cherry-dark wine and sugar-encrusted pastry. He had tried to keep some figurative distance between the two of you, but you didn’t seem to want it, closing the gaps with questions, always looking so damn interested when the answers pertained to him or his life. Were you that fascinated by all your ‘friends’?

Javi doesn’t notice that Connie is scrutinizing him again, just like he hadn’t noticed that she’s been silent for the past minute.

“What’s she doing up there?” Connie asks loudly.

Javier chokes mid-drag, and a wicked smirk overtakes her face.

“What,” he croaks, trying desperately not to look guilty.

“Your neighbor,” Connie clarifies. “That’s what you’re thinking about, right?” She looks far too smug with herself.

“Hah,” Javier scoffs, trying to ignore the shivery goosebumps at someone calling you ‘his’. Buying time, he takes another long drag, letting it numb the sting from his cough.

Sometimes he wondered why he let himself get sucked into these coffee chats. They so rarely seemed to go well for him.

“Come on, Javier,” Connie coaxes. “I know there’s something between you two. Do you wanna talk about it?” A genuine offer, not just merciless teasing. She’s managed to wipe most of the mirth from her face, leaving a sympathetic expression behind.

He rubs his thumb along his mustache as he sighs a long stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know what’s between us,” he finally says. “I’m not- I don’t do relationships.”

He isn’t sure he remembers how to. Nothing about his life here is suited to them- it’s intense, harsh, dangerous. Not to mention his network of CIs, who he pays for sex as well as information.

“Why not?” Connie asks simply.

A glance at her face tells Javier that it’s a serious question. He snorts. Lounging back in his chair, he raises a contemptuous eyebrow at her. “You can’t honestly tell me the DEA lifestyle is helping your marriage.”

Her face tightens, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he resolutely pushes it away- Connie knows who he is, she asked for this conversation- “My marriage isn’t up for discussion here,” she says evenly. “And besides, don’t you think that’s something for her to decide? She knows what you do, she sees you almost every day. She told me she was helping you with something- do you think she’d let herself get close to you if she was scared of your ‘lifestyle’?”

He doesn’t let it show how deeply her word affects him; but like ink dropping into water, he feels a ripple of shock. The change of color as his thoughts cloud, churn with sudden optimism. Because Connie was right, you had helped him- with a fucking secret stab wound, for christ’s sake. You’d already seen the blood and the secrets, understood that his life came with risks- and helped him without further explanation.

Javier brings the cigarette to his lips again without tasting it, unseeing gaze fixed ahead. Possible though it is that you’re not put off by the danger which hounds him, it still doesn’t mean you want to be more than friends. That was what you’d said, right? ‘Friends are a thing people have.’

But there was also what you hadn’t said last night. That- as long as it was for reasons other than feeling like he owed you- he was allowed to want to sleep with you.

Suddenly he slumps forward onto his elbows, sighing. The wrinkles on his forehead ache as he smooths his thumb over them. “I don’t know how close she wants to get,” Javi mumbles. He might be experienced at sex with women, but forming conections based on what was beneath the skin...well, not only was he rusty, but it required a frankly terrifying amount of vulnerability that he wasn’t sure he was up for.

Connie softens. “Listen, Javi, I saw the way she was looking at you during movie night. She’s interested in you, no matter how much you think she does or doesn’t know. Just- see what happens, or…ask her.” With her last words she shrugs matter-of-factly, content to drop the subject now that she’s delivered her thoughts.

His lips twist, the only begrudging acknowledgement he gives as he reflects on this. He picks up his mug and swirls the dregs of the coffee his friend had poured for him- black, like he usually takes it. He takes a sip.

For the first time, he thinks it could use a little sugar.

--

A/N: Get it, because he needs some of READER’S sugar AYOOOO...I’ll leave now lmao.

Spanish note for the less linguistically inclined: ‘Vecinita’ is the word ‘Vecina’ (Neighbor) plus the suffix ‘-ita’, which is attached to words as a way of describing them as ‘small’. So literally translated it says ‘little (feminine) neighbor’, but! This suffix is also used to say things in an affectionate way, so you could put it on the end of someone’s name (ie Pedrito <3), or on the end of another noun to indicate a nickname. (Disclaimer, I only speak Italian, but it has this same concept, so I think I did it right. Someone pls tell me if I did not). It’s used very casually, so it’s not really as deep as it sounded in Reader and Javi’s moment, but it was deep for Javi okay!!!

The dessert this chapter is named after translates to ‘Gloria pastries’, which according to Google, is a popular Columbian pastry. I have not actually ever encountered one of these personally, but I’ve had all the ingredients individually, so I cannot imagine them not being DELICIOUS all together. Here is a recipe I fully intend to try (it uses mozzarella cheese, but other sources say you can use any plain/white/farmer’s cheese). Guava paste is a really yummy, thick puree (think jam, but thick enough to stay in slab form at room temp) of guava fruit (obvs), which I’ve used in recipes before! I found it in a regular Weis market in central Pennsylvania lmao so I would guess it to be a thing you can find across the US. Arequipe is just another name for dulce de leche. I gotta get me and my sweet tooth to Columbia!!

Fic Taglist: @din-damn-djarin, @thirstworldproblemss, @remembertoreadthese

[veeranger]

So you want to watch Precure!

Version 1.3

(Google Docs Vers & Changelog)

Maybe you follow people who like it, maybe you just love magical girls and never got into Precure, but there are over a dozen seasons and you don’t know how to jump in. Never fear, this masterpost is here to give you a rundown of Precure, and hopefully by the end you’ll have an idea of where you want to start. 

What Is Precure?

Precure (short for Pretty Cure) is a Toei Animation franchise started in 2004 and has been on the air nonstop since then. It’s a magical girl franchise, y’know like sailor moon or ojamajo doremi or other such shows. The main demographic is children so you don’t have to worry about any weird “fanservice” or panty shots or anything nasty like that, it’s very G rated. 

What Are The Shows About?

In a general sense, Precure is about a team of 2-6 middle school age magical girls fighting bad guys and giant monsters and saving the world on a weekly basis with pretty outfits and big flashy finishers and the power of love and friendship. Each season follows a pretty standard formula (toku fans should be pretty familiar with it for the most part), and each season is around 48-50 episodes long. 

In keeping with this toku-esque formula, most seasons will feature mid season additions to the cast, in the form of new precure heroes. For the sake of not spoiling these shows, these mid season cures will not be mentioned in our plot overviews unless they appear extremely early or something like that. Just know that almost every season will feature an additional cure joining the team later in the show. 

Additionally, every season has at least one movie, these days there’s usually two per season. Usually you’ll find the movies are a standalone self-contained romp, and a crossover movie with the preceding seasons, with a focus on the most recent 2-3 teams. These movies might as well exist in a continuity of their own, and have absolutely no bearing on the plot whatsoever, save for one except which I’ll mention when we get to that season. 

Why Should I Watch Precure?

Because it’s good. It’s a really stellar franchise with a ton of content and genuinely engaging characters and stories. Also this isn’t your mom’s magical girl show, these girls throw punches, and kicks, and big lasers. Precure is pretty well known for being extremely hands on with its combat compared to other magical girl shows, though don’t expect the same kind of fights you’d find in kamen rider or anything. Also a main draw for a lot of people is the amount of gay subtext in, frankly, every season. While there’s only one season with an explicitly confirmed gay relationship between two cures, every season has varying levels of subtext between cures, it’s pretty cool. We won’t discuss the subtext in every season overview but trust us, it’s in there. 

What Show Should I Start With?

It doesn’t actually matter which season you watch, every season is a new setting and with new characters and set in a new world (except for two sequel seasons i’ll explain later), so you’re free to watch whatever you want in any order! We’re going to spend the rest of this post talking about each season to give you, the beloved reader, a glimpse at what each season has to uniquely offer. Don’t worry, there’s no spoilers down there. 

Futari Wa Precure (We Are Pretty Cure) & Futari Wa Precure Max Heart

The original precure show that aired in 2004, and even received an english dub. Misumi Nagisa is a star lacrosse player living a normal life until one day a shooting star she wishes on turns out to be a fairy that careens right into her room, or rather, smacks her right in the face. The fairy, named Mepple, explains he comes from the Garden of Light, another world that’s been taken over by the evil Dark King and his Dark Zone in order to capture the Prism Stones, a number of heart shaped crystals that, if collected, could give Dark King the power to destroy not only the Garden of Light but also the Garden of Rainbows, Earth itself. Meanwhile, Yukishiro Honoka finds a box in her grandmother’s shed containing an item just like the one that smacked Nagisa in the face, and inside is the fairy Mipple, who explains the situation to Honoka. The two fairies, seeking to be reunited, drag Nagisa and Honoka along and the four of them end up meeting up, but are attacked by an emissary of the Dark Zone. Mepple and Mipple grant the confused duo the power to transform into the warriors of legend, Precure. As Cure Black and Cure White, Nagisa and Honoka manage to fight off their attacker and protect their new fairy partners. The girls are then more or less dragged into the battle against the Dark Zone, as the only hope for both Gardens, they fulfill their duty as legendary warriors despite their hesitations and desires to go back to being normal teenagers.

Futari Wa doesn’t exactly have any major themes to speak of, it’s just your standard magical girl vs evil bad guys kind of thing, forgive it for being the first season. What it does have to offer is the relationship between Nagisa and Honoka, as well as the action in fight scenes. The girls don’t start the season as best friends, in fact they barely even know each other’s names when they’re first flung together. It takes a few episodes and a major fight between the girls for them to really start opening up to each other, but soon enough they become inseparable and support each other in everything they do. It’s clear, especially near the end, that the girls cling to each other for support and strength in the face of the increasingly overwhelming odds they face as the Dark Zone gains strength. It’s very compelling to see their relationship deepen in the early season and see how deep their bonds truly go near the end. 

Futari Wa received a sequel show, Futari Wa Precure Max Heart, picking up the story where it left off in the first season’s finale. Honoka and Nagisa are still the main characters, and they’re still fighting the Dark Zone, but this time they’re joined by a mysterious girl named Hikari, who can transform into Shiny Luminous, not a precure but precure-ish. This time the girls are trying to recover the heart and soul of the Queen of the Garden of Light, before the Dark Zone can recover and destroy the queen in her weakened state. Also their precure costumes have changed slightly. 

The first season (that is to say, not max heart) is currently one of the few seasons available with official english subtitles on the streaming platform Crunchyroll

Futari Wa Precure Splash Star

Hyuuga Saki (Cure Bloom), a tomboy who loves playing softball, and Mishou Mai (Cure Egret), a quiet transfer student and aspiring artist, meet each other by chance one day under the Sky Tree, where they discover two creatures from the Land of Fountains named Flappy and Choppy. The two girls transform into the legendary Precure and are tasked with restoring Princess Filia and the Seven Holy Fountains, which were sapped of their power by the evil forces of Dark Fall.

Splash Star's main theme is the appreciation of nature. The main focus is on the girls rediscovering their relationships with their town and the nature and people in it. You get to meet a whole cast of characters in their community, who have a lot of heart and charm behind their writing and the show does a good job of getting you genuinely invested in their stories.

Unfortunately the romance in Splash Star isn’t much better than Futari Wa's (sorry to any Fujimura/Kazuya fans), but the main girls themselves are so engaging that it's easy to ignore. The villains are pretty goofy, but entertaining if you can accept that the show doesn’t take itself very seriously. There are two villains in the latter half of the season that really stand out, though. Without spoiling too much, I can promise you their character arcs will tear at your heartstrings in the best way.

If you've watched Futari wa Precure, Splash Star will probably feel familiar. Although it's the first "reboot" series in the franchise with completely new characters, Toei overall played it safe and Saki and Mai in many ways still feel like "Nagisa and Honoka 2.0". Splash Star is different in enough other ways to make the show stand on its own merits, but if you watch it immediately after Futari wa you might find yourself feeling some deja vu. Personally, I think it's interesting to see what Splash Star builds on and explores when compared to Futari wa, since it has many of the same themes and character archetypes but they play out quite differently.

Yes! Precure 5 & Yes! Precure 5 GoGo!

Nozomi is a cheerful, carefree girl, but she doesn’t have a dream. One day she meets a hot guy and finds a mysterious item called the Dream Collet, capable of granting any wish once all the fairies known as Pinkies are gathered inside it, in the school library. She discovers that the hot guy is actually a tanuki from Palmier Kingdom named Coco, and that the Kingdom has been destroyed by the Nightmare. Coco’s dream is to restore his kingdom using the Dream Collet, and Nozomi decides to make it hers as well. 

She’s joined by her jock friend Rin, Urara, an aspiring actress, Komachi, a writer, and the rich student council president Karen. Together they form Yes Sentai Fiveranger Yes Precure 5 and work together to prevent Nightmare from obtaining the Dream Collet before they can gather all the Pinkies. They also save Coco’s “”””””friend””””””” and fellow hot guy squirrel, Nuts, and he joins them as the second mascot/handsome love interest.

The theme of Yes is dreams and heterosexual furry romance. It pulls off the dreams part very nicely. The het furry romance is bad, mostly because Coco is Nozomi’s teacher at school and also her love interest. However, Coco and Nuts are fairly gay and if you look past the romance part they have very good dadly relationships with the rest of the team. 

Yespre, like Futari Wa, received a sequel show, Yes! Precure 5 GoGo!. After the defeat of Nightmare some time ago, a new faction called Eternal rises up and starts stealing treasures from various dimensions. When Eternal targets the Rose Pact belonging to the Cure Rose Garden, the precure are called back into action to fight against Eternal, with new cure outfits, a new fairy named Syrup, and a new cure-like teammate named Milky Rose.

Fresh Precure!

Fresh is sort of the defining series for modern Precure, introducing a lot of plot and thematic elements to the franchise that would be used repeatedly later on. 

A concert Momozono Love attends is attacked by a monster called a Nakewameke. When Love stands up to it, she is nearly killed, but is saved when she is chosen by a mysterious power to become Cure Peach. She is joined by Inori and Miki as Cure Pine and Cure Berry, and, together with the talking ferret from the Kingdom of Sweets, Tarte, they have to prevent Labyrinth, a grey world led by Mobius, from taking over the Parallel Worlds and transforming them into identical, machine-like dictatorships, and also figure out the secret behind the Magic Baby, Chiffon, that Tarte is entrusted with. 

Fresh’s themes are happiness and nature/technology and donuts. The donuts are important. Labyrinth operates by gathering misery; the Nakewameke are created from it and their function is to create more of it and fill the Sorrow Gauge. All the girls (and the mascot) have love interests and their familial relationships are explored a lot to bring out the general stakes and emphasise what they’re fighting for.

While Fresh is very strong in characters, plot, and thematics, its lack of budget is very apparent. It looks terrible. Fortunately, it isn’t that difficult to get used to the bad animation once you get into the show, although the lack of means tends to show up at inopportune moments, like new powerups.

Heartcatch Precure!

Featuring character designs and art direction from Ojamajo Doremi’s character designer Umakoshi Yoshihiko, and written by Ojamajo Doremi and Onegai My Melody writer Yamada Takashi, Heartcatch should look and feel familiar to fans of either franchise, especially Doremi.

After having a reoccurring dream about someone called Cure Moonlight being defeated trying to defend the “Great Heart Tree”, the shy and reserved Hanasaki Tsubomi moves in with her grandmother and ends up inheriting the will of Cure Moonlight and becomes the newest precure, Cure Blossom. Finding out her grandmother used to be the legendary Cure Flower, Tsubomi vows to protect the world as a precure and learn to change herself for the better. She’s joined by her new friend and the first person she saved as a precure, Kurumi Erika, a loud girl with a big heart who means well, but doesn’t hesitate to speak her mind. Erika becomes Cure Marine and the two become Heartcatch Precure, the newest precure in the long legacy of those who have stood up to the evil Dune, a mysterious invader who destroys planets and turns them into lifeless deserts. Heartcatch Precure fights against Dune’s minions: the mask wearing Professor Sabaku, his Desert Apostles, and the mysterious Dark Precure. Along the way they meet the former Cure Moonlight, now stripped of her power, and try to help her cope with her defeat.

Heartcatch Precure’s main theme is flowers and flower language. Everyone has a “heart flower” that the Desert Apostles take and use to create their monsters every week. As an interesting result of this, the monster of the week will be the main character in the plot of the week and often their big monster form will vent about their issues which will usually lead to a resolution when the precure return them to their regular bodies. Heartcatch also has a very nice backstory and lore to it. Unlike most iterations of precure, the Heartcatch girls are not the first precure to exist in their world, there are dozens maybe hundreds of precure that came before them, fighting against Dune and his forces for hundreds of years. It adds a lot to the narrative in small ways, especially later on in the season. Also the fight scenes are extremely excellent, especially when Moonlight is involved. 

Suite Precure♪

The musical paradise of Major Land falls under siege by the forces of Minor Land, led by King Mephisto. His goal is to steal the living notes of the “Melody of Happiness” and remake them into the “Melody of Sorrow”, throwing the world into a permanent depressive state. As a last resort, Queen Aphrodite scatters the notes into the human world and tasks Hummy, the cat-like fairy, and the Fairy Tones, to find the notes before the forces of Minor Lands can capture them. In the human world, Hummy meets Hojo Hibiki and Minamino Kanade, two girls who were best friends as children, but drifted apart as teenagers because of their tendency to bicker with each other. The two find themselves thrown together again by fate and transform into Cure Melody and Cure Rhythm to protect the things they hold dear. Not long after, the two rekindle their relationship and become closer than before, despite their bickering. Soon the girls run into the mysterious Cure Muse, a girl who appears to be a precure like them, but hides her face with a mask and refuses to join in their fight, claiming to be neither friend nor enemy. Melody and Rhythm battle against Minor Land and the giant Negatones they create from the notes they gather, as well as Siren, another cat-like fairy who used to be Hummy’s best friend before turning to evil and joining Minor Land. 

Suite Precure’s main theme is music, and it is a very encompassing theme. Hibiki and Kanade bond over their piano practice, the town they live in celebrates music frequently and is aesthetically music themed, and their powers take the form of musical instruments. Harmony is also a large theme for the two girls. Their precure power increases as they harmonize with each other, and the early season is very much about them learning to harmonize with each other. Suite also features several extremely well done mystery arcs, about the identity of Cure Muse, and various other things that I can’t very well talk about without risking spoiling things myself. If you manage to go into Suite not knowing anything consider yourself extremely lucky and be super sure not to get spoiled. The show staff went to great lengths to hide certain things, including leaking fake cure designs, and creating a second version of the second dance ending to further mask the identity of Cure Muse until her true reveal. 

Also something to note, usually precure movies have nothing to do with the plot of the show itself and can be watched whenever but the Suite movie is best enjoyed right after the arc revealing Cure Muse’s identity is concluded, it has a nice resolution to plot elements in that arc and sets the stage for the last few arcs of the show, so be sure to watch it then.

Smile Precure!

Written by Kamen Rider Kabuto head writer Yonemura Shoji, Smile Precure is the second season to feature a 5 girl team after Yes! Precure 5 Gogo!. Running late to her first day of school, resident happy-go-lucky klutz Hoshizora Miyuki runs face first into a small creature called Candy, a fairy from a place called Märchenland. The two are attacked by an anthropomorphic wolf named Wolfrun, and Miyuki transforms into Cure Happy to fight against Wolfrun and the big clown faced monster he summons called an Akanbe. After Candy explains that the legends say there are five precure, Miyuki recruits four new friends: the hot blooded Akane (Cure Sunny), shy artist Yayoi (Cure Peace), responsible older sister Nao (Cure March), and refined student council vice-president Reika (Cure Beauty). The five of them become Smile Precure and fight against Wolfrun and his allies in the Bad End Kingdom, who attempt to revive the slumbering Pierrot by trying to put the world in a “Bad End”. 

Smile Precure’s main theme is fairy tales, in a general sense. The Bad End trio are based off of the big bad wolf (Wolfrun), the oni from Momotaro (Akaoni), and the witch from Snow White (Majorina), and Miyuki herself is utterly captivated by fairy tales. The secondary theme is happiness, and the happy go lucky tone of the series often turns on its head during serious arcs to deliver extremely powerful emotional moments. Smile Precure is light on plot, and most episodes are an ultra happy experience, but the show knows how to get serious when it needs to and Smile is exceedingly competent at pulling off drama when the time comes. Smile knows how to get you invested in its characters and use that to pull on your heartstrings during the big moments. The last 10 episodes of the show are the absolute pinnacle of the show’s emotional drama, and each cure gets her own episode for closure before the finale sets in and emotionally destroys you. Also you get to play rock paper scissors with Cure Peace during her roll call so that’s always fun.

Doki Doki! Precure

Doki opens with Trump Kingdom’s destruction by the Selfishness as Cure Sword looks on, helpless. Switching to our world and brighter topics, we meet Aida Mana, Student Council President of Oogai Middle School, whose dream is to become the Prime Minister of Japan. Whenever Mana sees someone in trouble, she’ll help them out, so when a monster attacks the city, Mana does the obvious and tries to stop it. And when, chosen by the fairy Charuru (Charles? Cheryle? Cherry?) to become a Precure and defend the world, she meets Cure Sword, she has to befriend her and help her restore Trump Kingdom and find her happiness. 

Mana (Cure Heart) is joined by Rikka (Cure Diamond), her studious companion and supporter, and also the immeasurably powerful and rich (in that order) Alice (Cure Rosetta). Together they have to unravel the mystery of the man who gave them their transformation items, the missing princess of Trump Kingdom, the strange, evil girl called Regina, and Ai, the chaotic neutral baby who hatches out of an egg. 

Dokipre’s theme is love and selflessness. It also has Deep Lore, a lot of which is established in extra-series material. The show does try to explore concepts like past cures and manages a very nice repeating pattern effect with the plot, in terms of past and future happenings. There’s a lot of foreshadowing. Compared to most Precure seasons it’s very plot-heavy and even the filler usually ends up being plot-relevant. 

Happiness Charge Precure!

The 10th anniversary of Precure! The Phantom Empire is spreading across the world, and Precure are rising up all over the globe to fight them off. In Japan there are two active cures, Cure Fortune, strong and capable, and Cure Princess, scared and unsure of herself. As Cure Princess, Shirayuki Hime, struggles desperately to do her duty as precure, Cure Fortune refuses to work with her for reasons Hime doesn’t fully understand. Realizing her only hope is to find a partner to work with, Hime bumps into Aino Megumi, a super friendly girl who has a tendency to drop everything and help others any time she sees someone in need. Megumi becomes Cure Lovely, and bolstering Hime’s confidence, the two of them become Happiness Charge Precure, tasked with protecting Japan from Queen Mirage and her Phantom Empire. The two are joined by Cure Honey, and eventually Cure Fortune, and the four of them receive support from Blue, the God of Planet Earth. As the girls continue to fight and defend Japan, they are assaulted by Phantom, the ruthless Precure Hunter who has defeated and trapped countless Precure in his Precure Graveyard, and the Oresky Trio, the Phantom Empire generals who oversee the invasion of Japan. 

Happiness Charge Precure’s themes are romance and happiness. There are several arcs dedicated to the budding romances of the cures, and the backstory of the show is heavily tied to romance. Happiness might as well be Megumi’s middle name, she makes it her business to spread happiness to as many people as she can, and takes every chance she can to help others. Happiness Charge is also the first season to have form changes for the precure, each cure has a small selection of forms they can change to for different big attacks, and this concept would later be expanded and used as a core concept in Maho Girls Precure. Like Heartcatch before it, Happiness Charge exists in a world where multiple precure exist, but unlike Heartcatch all those precure exist at the same time in the present day. Other precure teams make cameos every so often and the concept creates a great world in which the whole planet is being protected by teenage girls with superpowers, creating a wonderful sense of scale that really makes the big victories of Happiness Charge Precure feel even bigger. 

Go! Princess Precure

The first precure series to take place at a boarding school! Years ago, a young girl named Haruno Haruka meets a very royal looking person named Kanata who gives her a Dress-Up Key, a big key shaped like a dress. A teenager now, Haruka starts attending Noble Academy, a prestigious boarding school, all the while holding tight to her dream of becoming a true princess, in a quasi-literal sense. Not long after starting the school year, Haruka meets Pafu and Aroma, two fairies from the Hope Kingdom desperate to revive the legendary precure to fight back against Dyspear and her minions who steal dreams to create their giant Zetsuborgs. Realizing what her Dress-Up Key is meant for, Haruka uses it and the Princess Perfume to become Cure Flora. Together with student council president Kaido Minami (Cure Mermaid), and Amanogawa Kirara (Cure Twinkle) a fashion model with huge aspirations, they become the new Princess Precure, tasked with learning to become true princesses along with protecting the Dress-Up Keys from Dyspear’s forces. 

Go! Princess Precure’s main themes are princesses (duh) and dreams. Dreams are a driving force behind all of the cures, and most of the plot of the week characters. Dyspear steals dreams to make monsters, and the precure fight to return those dreams. Characters follow their dreams with conviction, pride, and full commitment. This is also where the princess theme intersects, since it’s Haruka’s dream to become a true princess. One should note that princess is used sort of liberally in this series, it’s not that Haruka wants to somehow become someone of noble birth or have political power, she just wants to be strong, kind, and beautiful, the traits of a true princess in Princess Precure’s own terms. Also she wants to wear pretty dresses and such but who can blame her really. 

Mahou Tsukai Precure! (Maho Girls Precure!)

Quite literally putting the magic in magical girls for the first time in the franchise, Mahou Tsukai Precure was the first season to have its cures be actual magicians. Izumi Riko lives in the magical world, a world where magic is real and she attends a magical academy to hone her craft. She leaves the magical world to travel to the “non-magic” world, to search for a legendary item called the Linkle Stone Emerald. In the non-magic world she ends up catching the attention of another girl, Asahina Mirai, who sees her using magic. After trying to show off some magic and messing it up, Riko is attacked by Batty, a servant of the dark wizard Dokurokushe, who is seeking the Linkle Stone Emerald as well. As fate would have it, both Mirai and Riko carry stones that turn out to be the Linkle Stones Diamond, and the two of them use them to become Cure Miracle and Cure Magical, the legendary Mahou Tsukai Precure. Additionally, the power of the Linkle Stones grants life to Mirai’s lifelong companion, a teddy bear named Mofurun. Having discovered the world of magic and become a precure, Mirai is invited to spend time in the magical world learning magic alongside Riko, before the two, joined by Mofurun and a baby fairy named Ha, return to the non-magical world to search for the Emerald and protect it from Dokurokushe and his minions.

Mahou Tsukai Precure’s main themes are bonds and separation. It’s strengths lie in how it shows the relationship between Mirai and Riko. The show takes its time building their relationship in the first dozen or so episodes of their adventures in the magic world, highlighting their similarities and differences as they grow closer and learn to live with each other and fight as precure together. Well before the halfway mark it’s clear how strong their bond is and how deeply they care for each other, and the lengths they would go to for one another. Mahou Tsukai is an emotional ride in so many ways, every emotional moment hits its mark and the more you get attached to the characters the more the show will hit harder and harder with its moments, both sad and happy. Even side characters get satisfying and emotional conclusions to their storylines outside of the episodes they’re introduced in, it’s all wonderfully crafted.

KiraKira☆Precure A La Mode

Another return to the five cure format, Kirapre is also the second season to feature a sixth team member after Yes! Precure 5 Gogo!, as well as the second season to feature high school age precure after Heartcatch Precure. Usami Ichika is in her second year of middle school and loves sweets, especially making sweets. One day a hungry fairy named Pekorin finds her way into Ichika’s kitchen, and after being fed teaches Ichika about Kirakiraru, an energy source that exists in all sweets, and something that can be stolen and used for evil, leaving the sweets gray and tasteless. Utilizing the power of kirakraru in the shortcake she baked for her mother, Ichika becomes Cure Whip, one of the legendary patissiers, Precure. One by one other precure appear, the smart but shy Arisugawa Himari (Cure Custard), the rock band headliner Tategami Aoi (Cure Gelato), the fickle catlike Kotozume Yukari (Cure Macaron), and the responsible and helpful Kenjou Akira (Cure Chocolat). The five of them fight against the evils of Noir and those he has influenced: Julio, the mysterious masked boy who runs “experiments'' using kirakiraru, and Bibury, a mean spirited girl who uses her talking doll to steal kirakiraru and create monsters.

Kirapre’s main motifs are sweets and animals, and it has a pretty general togetherness and happiness theme going on, the standard precure stuff, mostly viewed through the lense of sweets and sweets-making. All the precure work as patissiers for one reason or another and it’s the main way the team bonds early on. The team, as well as the people of their small town, love sweets as a part of their culture and sweets maintain an important role as the emotional tie that binds most things together in the story. Overall Kirapre is a wonderful show with a great cast on both sides of the conflict, and a lot of care has been put into the show to make sure characters have their moments to interact with each other as well as have their own stories , even on a team of six every precure gets more than enough time to shine on her own. Kirapre is at it’s best when it takes two girls and puts them together for an episode, letting each unique dynamic play out in a fun and satisfying way. Kirapre is also noteworthy for the almost inarguably canonical relationship between two of the cures. It's not exactly explicit and it does leave something to be desired, since this is a Toei children's show, but there’s not really any other way to read the evolution of their relationship or their duet song, so I’m more than satisfied calling it canon.

This season is currently one of the few seasons available with official english subtitles on the streaming platform Crunchyroll 

HUGtto! Precure

Precure’s 15th anniversary! This season is in many ways a celebration of all things Precure, bringing together a lot of familiar elements from past shows into one. Hugtto! is another five cure season whose main themes are destiny and future. Nono Hana (Cure Yell) is a thirteen-year-old girl whose dream is to be a "cool and stylish woman," although she worries that others see her as childish. One day, a hamster named Harryham Harry and a magical baby named Hugtan fall out of the sky into Hana's house. They're being chased from the future by an evil organization called Criasu Corporation, who are trying to use Hugtan's power to freeze time forever. Hana makes friends with two of her classmates: the responsible class representative Yakushiji Saaya (Cure Ange) and the reclusive ex-figure skater Kagayaki Homare (Cure Etoile), and together they fight Criasu while taking care of Hugtan and figuring out the many mysteries surrounding her. Expect some light sc-fi elements and an emphasis on modern technology/social media.

Hugtto! explores its themes primarily through the lenses of childcare and the workplace, giving us a look at how each girl comes to terms with the transition from childhood to adulthood. This season does a good job of letting each member of the team shine; you spend several episodes with each girl (or duo of girls) and there's a real sense of a complete character arc for all of them. The romance aspect is, unfortunately, pretty bad: there’s a return of hetero furry romance between Harry and Homare, and Hana’s love interest exhibits some really creepy behavior towards her. There’s uncomfortable age gaps in both of these relationships too so it’s a just a bit…. Yikes. Thankfully, it’s fairly easy to ignore like past seasons, but a warning for it nonetheless.

Something that makes this season stand out is its LGBT subtext; there's a TON of it even compared to the normal amount that Precure is known for. Without giving away too much, two of the cures this season are heavily coded as lesbians (though not with each other per se), and there's a subplot concerning a side character who is pretty explicitly (well, as explicit as Toei dares to be) a gender non-conforming man/nonbinary person in love with another man, and it's all very wholesome and presented in a positive light. Again, this is Toei, so don't expect anything too radical, but I have to admit I was pleasantly surprised with how Hugpre handles it.

Finally I'll just say that while Hugpre is a fantastic season on its own, I would personally recommend waiting to watch it after you've seen some other seasons (notably Futari wa). It's not required, but since Hugpre is an anniversary season, there are a few episodes (especially near the end) that will really hit different if you have an emotional connection to the franchise already. Ultimately though this is a fairly minor part of the show, so watching this season first won’t ruin it or anything like that, it’s just something to keep in mind.

Star☆Twinkle Precure

Precure… in space! Our protagonist, Hoshina Hikaru (Cure Star) loves space and cryptids, to the point of drawing her own constellations. One of her constellations is an adorable alien puffball, who warps into Hikaru’s room almost immediately after she draws it. The puffball quickly befriends Hikaru, who names her Fuwa. They are later joined by Prunce, the team dad friend/alien mascot, and Lala (Cure Milky), a humanoid alien who is an adult in her own culture. After our initial duo gets off to a bit of a rocky start, they are joined by the student council president, Kaguya Madoka  (Cure Selene) and a biracial upperclassman who is considered to be the “sun” of the school, Amamiya Elena (Cure Soleil). Together, they explore the universe and befriend all sorts of aliens, while also defending them from the Notraiders, who want to rid the universe of all imagination. On top of that, the universe is dying and the cures need to find the 12 astrologically themed Star Pens to save it and the 12 Star Princesses. This series is notable for attempting to break the “monster of the week” format, instead making it a “fight of the week”.

The major themes of Star Twinkle are space, imagination, and maturity. The cures have to explore the universe to find the Star Pens, and in doing so, visit a bunch of different planets. About half the series is spent on Earth, but the world still feels developed! Honestly speaking, the theme of imagination is forgotten pretty quickly and I’d refer to it more as free will. The theme of maturity is where Star Twinkle really shines. All of the cures have had to grow up too fast in some way, and the series is partially about just allowing them to goof off. Lala is considered an adult on her planet, and this plot point is treated realistically. Well, as realistically as it can be. This is one series I’d recommend avoiding spoilers like the plague for, because part of the fun is in how the plot twists are pulled off. Also Star Twinkle is notable for featuring the first ever dark skinned precure, as Elena is half-hispanic. 

Healin’ Good Precure

The currently airing Precure season, as of this writing. The Byogens seek to revive their king by inflicting viruses on Earth, the Healing Garden sends three medical interns to combat them. These interns, fairies named Rabirin, Pegitan, and Nyatoran, along with a baby fairy princess named Latte, journey to Earth to find partners to become Precure. They end up meeting Hanadera Nodoka, a kindhearted girl who was hospitalized for most of her young childhood. After Nodoka risks her life to protect Latte, Rabirin chooses her to become Cure Grace. Joined by older sister type Sawaizumi Chiyu (Cure Fontaine) and the outgoing Hiramitsu Hinata (Cure Sparkle), they form Healin’ Good Precure, and defend their friends and the Earth from the Byogen’s newest wave of attacks. 

This season is currently one of the few seasons available with official english subtitles on the streaming platform Crunchyroll.

Where To Watch Precure Online

Unfortunately for us, Precure isn’t really a thing in the west. There was a dub of Futari Wa back in the early 2000’s and Smile and Doki both got “adapted” into Glitter Force over on netflix (I don’t really recommend checking those out), but really Precure just doesn’t exist over here.

However, as mentioned above, there are currently three seasons avalible for streaming on crunchyroll. The original Futari Wa Precure, Kira Kira Precure A La Mode, and the current season, Healin’ Good Precure.

Beyond these isolated examples of official releases, you can really only watch precure online on streaming sites or through torrents. You can find precure pretty much on any major anime streaming site, kissanime, gogoanime, the works. You can also try your luck torrenting the seasons, i’ve found that pretty much every season has a working torrent you can find on sites like nyaa.si or the like. For more recent seasons you should have little difficulty getting torrents, and last time i checked every season was on one of the aforementioned streaming sites. What I’m saying really is there’s no single place to find precure, but it’s not impossible to find for sure.

Thanks for reading this post, I hope you decide to check out precure and I really hope you end up loving it.Thanks to my wonderful friend @meltorights​ for writing the sections on Yespre, Fresh, and Dokipre, to @wonderlilane​ for writing the sections on Splash Star and Huggto, and @cure-cosmo​ for writing the segment on Starpre. 

If you have questions feel free to drop me an ask I’d be happy to help. I will literally go out of my way to help you if it means getting someone new into precure so please do not hesitate by any means.