#anyways I think everyone likes to take his coat sometimes p

[cptnwynnie]

Everyone wearing Collins’ coat… except for Collins himself

[fulloflambing]

࣪ . ִֶָ๋ CAPITANO: husband headcanons ♡

pairing: capitano x afab!reader/you warnings: reader is addressed as 'wife', canon and modern!au cho's note: the kinich one did rlly good, so now lets try it with our big boi hehe. happy reads everyone! lmk if u guys want an nsfw ver. of either/both characters ;3

this man is the definition of YEARNING.

he wasnt comfortable with the label of him being your boyfriend. with all his eternal affection and love for you? to just be a mere boyfriend? absolutely not. he just HAD to be your husband. proposed the moment he realized he loved you.

definitely proposed with a big stone :p

wears his ring 24/7 and kisses it whenever your not around and he misses you dearly.

he abuses the power of his mask and never misses the chance to stare and just admire your beauty. underneath his mask his eyes are full of love and admiration for you.

discreetly clingy. if your going out somewhere he wants to go with you 'to keep you safe' or he 'needed to pass by that area later anyway'.

hates taking off his helmet, but never stops you from sliding it off of his head to shower him with praise.

his nicknames for you are my love, dear, darling, prince/princess

his love language for you is physical touch, and words of affirmation

his favorite spots to kiss you on is your forehead, lips, the palm of your hands and your knuckles.

engraved your initials into his sword, and because of that he makes sure he takes good care of it always.

his kisses are always slow and intimate.

he is a quick-kisses or pecks HATER. he has to kiss you for atleast 10 seconds. he doesn't care if hes late, if theres someone right infront of you— he kisses you like its the last time, everytime.

more of a listener than a speaker

he likes to go on dates or do activities with you where you both have to talk to eachother a lot. like fine dining dates, late night walks or driving!

very touchy in private. he likes to snake his arm around your waist, pull your hair to the side and kiss the back of your neck.. hes just addicted to praising and carressing your body.

ever since he married you, he absolutely despises overtime. he gets bossier and meaner to his subordinates when he realizes he might have to stay a little later to supervise them. sometimes he even leaves his job or his expeditions early just to get home to you.

frequently brings you gifts. a bouquet of rare flowers, a jewelry set with special ore customized just for you, lavish wine.. you name it.

never wants to argue with you. the second you tell him he's wrong, he just immediately agrees with you, spewing "yes ma'am." "your absolutely right. i didn't think of it properly.. apologies my love."

ever since he married you, he likes to subtly flex he has you as his wife.

"Sorry, i must end this conversation early. My wife is waiting on my presence." and you can just HEAR how cocky he is to say that.

writes you longgggg letters when he has to get away from business for awhile.

regarding his letters, he made you scribble/draw a design which he got custom made to become his wax seal for said letters :) a very keen man

got you a coat matching his own!

when your crying, he likes to hug you in silence, just letting you soak him in your tears. when you've calmed down, he tells you hes there to listen if you want to talk about your feelings, and theres no problem of yours hes not willing to help you solve. in his mind, your pain is his own, and he'll always be there to support you through any troubles.

very possessive. he wants people to know your his, and hes yours.

princess treatment on TOP. carries you easily when your tired of walking, idly massages your hands or feet when your both lounging together, regularly brings you flowers

during misunderstandings, he likes to take a minute of silence to compose himself and his thoughts to make sure he doesnt say anything he doesnt mean

likes to properly sit down with you to talk out problems between the both of you, and keeps an open mind. he doesnt rush you or cut you off when your talking about your feelings, and lets you know hes present and he cares about how you feel

takes extra time and effort after an argument to remind you he loves you.

overall, capitano is a very romantic lover despite his cold resolve, and honors your wishes with his life.

[nhstadler]

3 9 7  P A G E S

Hey everyone! I realised it's been forever since I posted anything and since I'm not quite finished with the chapter, I thought I'd at least post a story snippet to let you know that I haven't fogotten about you and about HNTBAW. It's just been a little much lately and I've been struggling with writer's block (as always).

But anyway, this is a random scene from the post Hogwarts series (which I might title A Catalogue of Us). It's kind of a flashback memory sort of thing and maybe it's a little confusing and sad, but maybe some of you enjoy it. I hope you had wonderful holidays / Christmas if you celebrate it and I promise I'm still writing.

Let me know what you think if you feel like it... hearing from you guys always helps my motivation, honestly :)

When James fell, the world stood still. I stood still. 

Sometimes I still dream about it. His muddled form falling through the sky, the burst of levitation spells in the pouring rain, like perverse fireworks, missing him again and again and again. There was nothing anyone could have done and yet… 

And yet.

I take a sip of my coffee, trying to banish the scraps of the nightmare that still cling to my mind as I wrap the blanket tighter around my shoulders. The air is crisp, laced with salt and the subtle sweetness of the heather that grows along the cliffside, trembling in the breeze. I’ve been staring at the horizon for almost an hour, watching the darkness fade into that bluish glow that only exists in these few minutes before sunrise, when the world is in-between. Like the sky holds its breath for just a moment.

Like I held my breath when I was an ocean away, unpacking my old life into my new flat, barely paying attention to Ludo Bagman’s tinny commentary in the background. I didn’t even know why I had turned on the match in the first place. I should have stayed away, taken advantage of the physical distance, but there was comfort in the familiarity of it. In hearing his name chanted by thousands of voices. I missed him and I hated him a little for it. And then I heard the screams. 

I thought I had lost him before, but this was so much worse.

***

The room is bright, made of sun-drenched walls and filled with flowers and too many people. But I barely notice. James isn’t moving. There is a tangle of tubes, pumping healing potion from the IV bags into his system, mending his broken bones and his cuts and gashes as much as it can. But even magic can only do so much. 

Ginny sees me first. I’m lingering in the doorway like an intruder, not sure if I have a right to be here. I couldn’t not come. I don’t know what to say, though. My throat closes off when our gaze meets over the hospital bed. She’s clutching James’s hand in both of hers like she’s holding on for dear life, her eyes brimming with tears, and I’m crying too, biting my bottom lip to keep myself from sobbing.

“Seth!” Lily calls out, making both Harry and Al look up, but I still don’t know if I’m welcome. Not until Ginny lets go of her son and extends her hand towards me, the faintest of smiles curving her mouth as she summons me to his bedside.

I want to touch him, to feel that he is still here, warm and real and alive, but I don’t dare. There are too many IV lines and bandages and I’m afraid I might hurt him. “How - how is he?”

It’s a useless question, I know it, but there’s still the naive hope that the answer might have changed. That he’ll open his eyes and give me that infuriating half-smile, calling me Woodley and telling me that everything will be alright.

“I’m sorry,” someone says behind me and I turn around to look at the healer that has come into the room. “Only family is allowed in here.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” 

I make to get up, wiping away the tears with shaky fingers, but Ginny’s hand circles my wrist, her bloodshot gaze firmly on the woman in the lime green coat. “She is.”

***

I wanted to buy him some magazines, but half of the stock in the small St. Mungo’s kiosk is about brooms and Quidditch and the other half are gaudy newspapers that still seem to be in a competition over who can print the most disturbing pictures of James plummeting through the air. I was ready to give up and settle on the Kneazle Lover’s Digest when I saw the flashy book pyramid by the checkout. 

“I got you something.” I’m barely in the room when I hold up the shiny hardback with the gaudy cover and James raises an eyebrow at the shirtless guy that takes up most of the front.

“Holy Morgan, what is that, Woodley?” He lets his head fall to the side, smiling at me, even though he is too weak to move. Bruises and scratches still paint brutal patterns across his skin, covering his face and neck, his shoulders, his ribs, but they’re healing. 

Unlike his legs. 

“They had it in the hospital bookshop!” I can barely contain my excitement as I sit down in the chair next to his bed, thumbing through the pages, because this feels like a sign. A very dumb sign, but a sign nonetheless, and I’ll take anything I can get. “No way!” I press the open page against my mouth, my eyebrows arching at James over the edge of the book.

“What?” He’s frowning, amusement still tugging on the corners of his mouth. 

“It’s set in the 1800s.” 

He groans, though the grin on his face definitely dampens the effort. Rain is lashing against the windows, drowning out the steady drip of the IVs and, for a moment, it feels like it used to. Like Sunday mornings at his and Freddie’s flat, when he would refuse to get up and pull me back into bed with him.

“I’m so excited.”

“I bet.” He’s laughing, properly now, and my heart flutters behind my chest. It should know better. Especially because I saw her name flash across his phone screen last night before I left. “How long is that damn thing?”

I flip to the very back of the book, catching a few of the final words even though I try to not read them. “397 pages.”

***

“How many pages?”

He used to ask how many chapters. Then it turned to pages. Because he knows it too - that we only exist like the words on paper, between the pages. Until we reach the last one. The last sentence. 

“191.”

When the story ends, so do we. But ours is a tragedy. Maybe it was always meant to be.

I come back every day. I sit next to his bed and read A Witch’s Guide to Rakes and Romance, blushing fiercely at the spicy scenes but reading it all. James covers Lily’s ears when she’s cuddled up next to him and she complains loudly while Al and Freddie laugh and Harry and Ginny exchange soft, tired smiles.

Sometimes, the room is crowded. Sometimes, it’s just us - James and me and the steady whirring of the machines - and I read to him until he falls asleep. I read to him until twilight creeps into the room and we have to turn on the neon hospital lights. 

I read to him until he can feel his legs again. 

Until the IV lines become less.

Until he can sit up by himself.

“How many?” He says and I don’t look at him.

“16.”

It’s the last chapter. And, though I know that it’s time to go, that this semi-real version of us has an expiration date, I dread every page I turn.

“What if you stayed?” James says, quietly, and I feel like I might choke. I can barely breathe.

What if I stayed?

“I - I can’t.” My fingers are clenching the book in my lap, digging into the cover for something to hold on to. This feels awful, like a second break-up, and I wish I could just fold myself into his arms. 

But I can’t and he doesn’t argue. Because he knows me too well.

His lips are pressed together as he nods, a tear sliding down the side of his face into his pillow and I’m crying too. When he reaches out, I take his hand and weave my fingers through his, careful to not dislodge the catheter in the back of his hand.

“Do you want to hear the ending now?” I ask, wiping the tears from my cheeks, and his gaze slides from my face to the book in my lap, to our intertwined fingers.

“No.” I feel his hold on me loosen, his hand slipping out of my grasp a little. “I don’t want to know how it ends.”

[storiesundercandlelight]

The Upper Hand

Jonathan Reid x F!Reader

Summary: You are helping Jonathan in his mission to help the city and find his Maker. And you’ve grown rather fond of teasing the doctor, grabbing any chance to make the man blush. But tonight it’s Jonathan’s turn to surprise you.

Warnings: NSFW +18, sexual content, p in v, cunnilingus, Jonathan’s a tease, but we love him, also love that one dialogue option where Jonathan gets so embarrassed about vampire sex 🤣

The sound of yours and Jonathan’s footsteps on the dimly lit street were the only sounds you could hear, thankfully the screeching of Skals you’d grown used to recently was no where to be heard in this part of the West End.

You were growing tired of constantly fighting off frenzied Skals or ambitious guards, but helping Jonathan had become important to you, important enough to keep you motivated anyway.

“We’re here” you turned to look at Jonathan, then at the building you’d stopped at. The house before you was lit up gently, dimmed lights flickered behind pulled curtains. Jonathan made his way up the steps to the door, turning back to you when you did not follow.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“Are you sure? Your mother… she doesn’t know me…”

“My mothers health hasn’t been at its best, she’ll be resting I made sure of it, we can rest here until tomorrow night. It’ll give me a chance to replenish medications for us to carry”

You followed Jonathan into the house, your eyes scanning over the entryway, dark walls, paintings in gilded frames, lush Persian rugs. “Well…you’re home certainly speaks for itself”

“I’ll take that as a compliment”Jonathan lead you through a door that brought you into the living room, the remains of the fire dwindling but enough to cast a warm glow over the room. “It seems everyone has retired for the night”

“Where will we find the supplies we need?”

“There is a table in my room where I keep supplies”

“Dr.Reid was this all some elaborate attempt to get me into your bedroom?” You almost couldn’t hold back the devious smirk that pulled at your lips when Jonathan’s eyes widened at you.

“What?! No! I… that’s not…” your giggle silenced him.

“I’m playing with you Jonathan, lead the way” you couldn’t help imagining Jonathan here in this house as you made your way up the stairs, as a child, as a young man, well what you could imagine anyway. You didn’t know him before all of this, most of your thoughts were fiction.

Jonathan stood awkwardly by the door of what you assumed was his room, his eye flicking to you. You rolled your eyes at him playfully before letting yourself in.

It was a simple room. A desk by a door leading to the balcony, a bookcase tucked away in the corner, his bed in the other, the table of supplies pushed against another wall, a fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been lit in some time, an old armchair in front of it. Jonathan walked towards the supply table, draping his coat over the back of the armchair as he moved.

You did the same with your own coat, thankful to lose the weight of it, leaving you in a fitted jacket you wore beneath, and scandalously to some, fitted trousers tucked into your boots.

Jonathan was already getting to work on serums and cures when he heard the mattress behind him dipping beneath your weight.

“My goodness Doctor, your bed is more comfortable than I imagined”

“Do you imagine my bed often?” You chuckled at Jonathan’s comeback.

“Only sometimes…hmm… what would the upper class citizens say…Dr.Reid with a girl in his bed” Jonathan was no stranger now to your teasing but he knew if it were possible his face would be red at the thought.

“The scandal of the city Im sure” he humoured you always. In truth he was thankful that you were able to make fun and make him smile during these trying times. He turned to you now, looking over you as you lay across his bed.

“Enjoying the view doctor?” His eyes snapped back to yours. “Perhaps you are thinking back to earlier… you know I never imagined a doctor would blush so much when talking about erections” you didn’t hide your smile this time remember poor Jonathan stumbling over his words.

“I simply didn’t expect that sort of question”

“Of course… I believe you” you smirked and patted the side of the bed you weren’t lying on. it was Jonathan’s turn to roll his eyes, but he sat down on the bed anyway, he took off his suit jacket before laying down beside you, staring at the ceiling. “My god you are as stiff as a plank… are you so unused to having a woman in your bed?”

“Why do I feel like this won’t be a restful night with you by my side?”

“Is it ever nowadays?”

“I can usually appreciate the peace and quiet”

“You wound me” you sat up, fingers starting to undo the buttons of your jacket, you kicked off your boots as you did, letting them hit the floor at the end of the bed. Your blouse was thin, the first button low enough that when you laid back down Jonathan had a perfect view of your chest, the shadow of the tops of your breasts teasing his gaze.

He looked away quickly, clearing his throat as you moved around trying to get comfortable. Finally you sighed, leaning up on one arm facing Jonathan, your eyes scanning over him until he met your gaze briefly. “I bet you’ve wondered about it since that conversation”

“Wondered about what?”

“If vampires can indeed fuck” you saw Jonathan’s eyes close for a moment as he let out a deep sigh.

“Can’t say it’s been high on the list”

“But it’s on the list?” You smirked at him when he side eyed you, you let your other hand come up to play with the buttons of his waistcoat, his body tensed for only a split second but you noticed. “Perhaps you don’t care to find out…”

“Meaning?”

“Just that… you know… I understand if you weren’t good at it-“

“I was- am perfectly fine at the task I can assure you” you could see the tell tale signs of Jonathan becoming flustered, you smiled again before flopping back down onto the bed.

“Alright alright” Jonathan knew this was the reaction you wanted, you seemed to relish moments where he became embarrassed. Well not tonight. It was Jonathan’s turn now to lean up and over you, his movement fast, startling you as he hovered just above you.

“I think it’s you who’s thought about it, is it not?” He allow himself to feel smug upon seeing your surprised face. Jonathan lifted his hand, bringing his fingers up between you to dance along the skin of you chest, up to the start of your neck and back down, as low as your blouse would allow, his finger teasing the dip between your breasts.

It was you now who was flustered, and oh Jonathan could see now how you took such pleasure in teasing him. He leant down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered. “Shall we find out?” Your breath caught in your throat, unsure if he was being serious or not, Jonathan himself wasn’t fully sure either, his joke now backfiring as his arousal grew at the idea.

You took a deep breath before putting on a smile. “If you think you can manage it doctor, I’d hate for you to oversell yourself”

“The only thing I’ll be doing is wiping that smug little smile off your face my dear” before you could speak again Jonathan’s mouth was on yours, his kiss hungry, his hand now gripping at your blouse, pulling the buttons open, a few scattering to the floor. You bit his lip lightly, enough for him to pull back.

“I liked this shirt” you grumbled. But Jonathan didn’t let up. His lips simply moved down your neck, teasing the flesh there with his teeth. God it felt good, you realised a little too late that you’d arched yourself into him, his body now pushing between your legs. You tried to reach for his waistcoat but he moved his body away from you, moving down to kiss your newly exposed chest. His lips finding your nipple hardened again the cold of the room.

You tried to hold back the gasp that left your lips, wanting so badly to win whatever game you were playing, but as Jonathan moved over you, his hands were everywhere, pulling your trousers down and throwing them behind him as he finally lent up and took you in.

He couldn’t have averted his eyes even if he wanted to, you were a sight to behold. You didn’t speak, despite desperately wanting to tell Jonathan to do something, anything. But more than that you simply wanted to see what he would do next, your body felt like it was burning beneath his gaze, your tried to bring your legs together but Jonathan was still kneeling between them. At least the movement stirred him back into action.

His hands slid along your thighs and up to the last item of clothing you had on, the thin silk almost too delicate against his fingers as he dragged your underwear down your legs. Good god this man would be the death of you.

“Whenever you’re done being a tease doctor” you tried to even out your voice, to sound confident, but you sounded weak and flustered, your voice almost pathetic with arousal as you watched Jonathan look over you once more, now completely naked to his eyes. You felt suddenly shy under his gaze. You reached out a hand, trying to touch him but you couldn't reach, but his own hand swiftly came up to meet yours and your pulled him down to you, your lips meeting again.

Finally you were able to unbutton Jonathan's waistcoat and push it from his shoulders and to the floor. Your hands gripped at his shirt, Jonathan leant up, kneeling again as he started to pull off his tie and you started with the buttons. As soon as the last button came away you pressed your lips to his stomach, your hands gliding along the hard muscle there as you kissed, lips teasing the skin just above his trousers.

You took note of the breath Jonathan took when you reached for his belt, pulling his trousers open, you went to push them down but suddenly you were laying back against the bed. "I think not my dear"

Your eyes snapped to Jonathans, where to your annoyance a smug little grin of his own was forming. "Now you're just being cruel"

"Cruel?" His lips ghosted over the skin of your chest, between your breast, down your stomach, you felt heat rise to your face when you realized what Jonathan had in mind. His lips now making a light trail over your hipbones, his hands holding you in place as he moved further down, he was so close you could feel his breath against where you wanted him. He placed another kiss just above, to the side, evey where but your aching center.

"Jonathan..."

"Hmm?" His eyes flicked up to you, god you hated how much seeing him in this position turned you on. His eyebrow went up in mock question. "What is it my dear? Something to say?" If you weren't so worked up you would have pulled away from him, a nice too little too late Jonathan falling from your lips as you walked away. But you didn't, you didn't do anything but look at the man between your thighs, waiting.

The moan that fell from you when he finally let his tongue slide along you was almost pathetic. Your head falling back against his pillow as he lapped at you greedily, like a man starved. Ironic you thought briefly. His hands dug into you as he pulled you closer to him, his tongue teasing at your sensitive bud. Another moan fell from your lips.

"Hush my dear...we aren't alone in this house and I would prefer my mother not be woken up by our current activity" Your hand flew to your mouth when Jonathan continued but added a finger, pumping it slowly into you as his tongue continued it's assault. A second, your back arched as he flicked his fingers up, hitting that sweet spot over and over. You felt a knot form in you, pulling tighter and tighter, Jonathan never letting up, not for a second.

"Jonathan..." You whimpered, he groaned at the sound of his name, knowing you were close, you were so desperate to fall over the edge, you wanted nothing more...and it was close.

Jonathan pulled away from you, climbing quickly back up your body before you could scream bloody murder at him for stopping. His lips quickly pressed against yours to silence you, the hand he wasn't leaning on pushing down his trousers, freeing himself.

"I could kill you" You whispered, your own hands aiding in the removal of the offensive trousers.

"You should perhaps wait until we're done. otherwise you'll never get what you want" He pushed his lips back to yours as he entered you, slowly making you take all of him, you groaned against his lips, your fingers brushing against the shaved part of this head as you tried to pull him closer. He didn't move for a second, waiting you realized for you to tell him it was alright to move.

You found yourself trying to move against him, hips lifting to push against his. That was all he needed, Jonathan withdrew almost fully before snapping his hips back into you, setting an almost brutal pace but you couldn't get enough. Your kisses turned frenzied, both of you using each other to silence the moans that slipped from your lips as he moved. Your hands sliding down the back of his neck to his shoulders, digging your nails in when he hit an impossibly deep part of you that had you breaking away from his lips to gasp.

"Don't stop" you moaned softly. You felt the knot begin to form again, Jonathans head resting against your neck as he kept up his pace, soft moans of his own now filling the room as you both chased your highs. His hands gripped you impossibly tight as he continued to move, your mind beginning to block everything out except the feeling of Jonathan thrusting into you. When you felt his hand slip between you, finding and rubbing against your clit you had to bite into his shoulder to silence your moan.

“Fuck” he swore, his voice low and breathy as his hips began to falter, his thrusts hard and deep. You felt his lips on your neck, up the side of your jaw, ghosting over your own. Your orgasm hit you so fast you couldn’t stop the loud gaps that broke from you, your forehead pressed against Jonathan’s, your hand gripping the back of his head, keeping him close to you as he followed, his own release pulling a low groan from him.

The room felt suddenly too quiet, your bodies still pressed closely even after Jonathan pulled himself from you, falling beside you and pulling you to him. You let you head fall against him, his lips pressing a kiss on to your forehead one last time.

“I think this is the longest time I’ve ever experience you not speaking” For the first time in your entire existence you didn’t have any words for him, your body was still buzzing from your orgasm, you felt quite happy to stay there in silence.

But you looked up at Jonathan a small smile on your face as you spoke quietly. “I’m just thinking about the fact that you swore… I’ve never heard such filthy words leave your lips doctor” he returned your smirk pulling you closer.

“I apologise, I couldn’t help it” his nose brushed against yours gently, the movement so intimate to you, you couldn’t help the quick kiss you gave him. “Perhaps we should run out of supplies more often”

“Dr. Reid… I knew there were ulterior motives at play here”

“Don’t even try to pretend you didn’t enjoy that”

“I had no intentions of pretending anything… although you can wipe that smug look off of your face right now” Jonathan laughed quietly, leaning back so he was facing the ceiling.

“I think I’ll keep it, it’s not often I’m able to be the one with the upper hand”

“Hmm I’ll get you back don’t you worry”

“I’ll look forward to it my dear”

[shotorozu]

encountering a ‘pick me’ girl

character(s) : kirishima eijirou, todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki (bnha)

warning : PICK ME GIRL, misogyny (?) pick me girl makes an off handed comment about your body but it’s not detailed at all

PART TWO — PART THREE

legend : [Y/N = your name] afab! reader, but they/them pronouns used, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff, angst if you squint

note(s) : i made 2 versions of this post so,, if you’re reading this— then i probably decided that i liked this one more than the other one i made,, anyways, i used real life examples 💀

»»————-　♡　————-««

kirishima eijirou

i’d imagine that eijirou would have an idea of what a pick me girl is— i mean, there were probably 2 of those girls in middle school

but has he experienced it first hand? nahh.

though, eijirou didn’t think he’d encounter one when he was already in a healthy and committed relationship!

eijirou is practically friends with everyone— and yeah, even the most unexpected. so, he’s bound to accidentally befriend a pick me girl

him, being the nicest one out of all of the characters in this list, will still be nice to said pick me girl, despite wanting to snob them to the core

because really— you can’t really fight fire with fire in some cases

but, he can be everything but lenient when the pick me girl starts insulting you for doing certain things, and for absurd reasons too

like,, how you laugh, and how you take care of yourself (for example— if you wear makeup, or how you style your hair)

which is odd! everything about you is everything but the things the pick me girl has stated so.. he cannot stand by.

SCENARIO

the girl giggles to herself after that snide comment leaves her lip gloss coated lips. eijirou shifts uncomfortably— honestly taken aback by the anything but subtle insult that was thrown at you

“like.. seriously! it’s honestly quite superficial if you look at it like that. who the hell would put that much effort infront of your boyfriend? i’d assume they’d see everything AND everything but.. i guess not.”

you blink. superficial? now that’s a new one. the girl infront of you has been babbling insults sugarcoated in boasts the entire time, and you’re just wondering if it’s about time you guys leave but—

“well that’s unfair,” your boyfriend laughs, “i put the same amount of effort as this cutie right here,” eijirou pokes at your cheek, earning a quick laugh from you— which he can only thank the heavens for that

“but that’s different. it actually looks put together when you’re doing it, eiji.” the certain glint in her smile makes you want to wipe it right off with a dirty mop, “it’s impossible to look put together with expensive clothes, but being built like a—”

the sound of the sliding of a chair is quicker than your actions, and it easily cuts her off.

“i’m sorry, but we gotta go, it’s totally not cool of you to say those things about Y/N!”

“what? but i mean.. it’s true, right? i’m looking out for them! they’re literally out here l—”

“bye!” eijirou waves her goodbye with your hand, dismissing the sour expression on her face— as he dashes off with you

you’d question how he’s just so nice to people like that, but when he turns around, you could see the distaste in his eyes

“so that’s what a pick me girl’s like,” shaking his head, his expression lights up with such a quick manner “i’ll never make friends that are like that again!”

safe to say, eijirou’s friend list has been a a person shorter ever since that incident

bakugou katsuki

oh, so that girl’s bold bold.

if she thinks she could get away with being a not so subtle pick me girl infront of bakugou katsuki, then she couldn’t be more wrong.

it’s absolutely revolting— i mean, he hasn’t displayed any romantic feelings towards ANYONE that isn’t you.

also, they’re quite gutsy if you ask me. so congrats for having guts??

i don’t think he’d be friends with a pick me girl. he’s very selective of who he’s befriending, so it’s probably your friend that’s the pick me girl in this case

he wouldn’t know what a pick me girl would be, but he’d probably know the description of one.

over some time, he’d grow some resistance to insults directed at him, but when someone insults his s/o

oh boy. that’s not good. remember when i said that katsuki was almost like your scary and intimidating dog

this is what i mean

knows he can’t make a scene, so his first option is to be dismissive asf— but if said pick me girl literally can’t get it, he won’t be afraid of shoving some explosions into her face

because his hands are rated e for everyone

SCENARIO

“so you wanna be picked or something, is that it?” he hates how you literally have the resistance of a rock— which is something he always liked, but in this case hated. if it weren’t for you— he would’ve blasted explosions into her sorry excuse of a face until it’s beyond recognition (that wouldn’t be hero like, is what you’ve said in the past, but he disagrees.)

but seriously? ugh. he just wants to leave this horrid place, and make some dinner with you in the comfort of his home. why are you even friends with her anyway? she’s not even trying to be slick at this point.

“p-picked? i’m not understanding, katsu.”

“it’s bakugou.”

“right,” her laughter is like nails on chalkboard, “i’m just watching out for Y/N, y’know? there’s no point in wearing all of that.. on their face.” and she’s obviously referring to your obviously very well done makeup

“it’ll make your skin terrible in the long run! and really— i couldn’t really understand on why someone would wear that much, when you could survive with i dunno.. lip gloss at most?”

you would’ve actually said something as a rebuttal, but your boyfriend is quicker, and a lot more direct than anyone else in the area.

“just say you can’t do makeup and fucking scram,” katsuki’s ice cold glare finally breaks out of the act he’s been trying to hold together for you

“their makeup is fucking bomb as hell, compared to your ridiculous spider lashes, lady. come back when you’ve watched james charles’ entire fucking channel.” he harshly states in similar bakugou fashion, despite the lack of screaming.

and if you squinted hard enough, you could see tears welling up in her eyes. but katsuki tugs your hand before anything else could be said

“let’s fucking go, you need better friends.”

he makes you cut ties with all of them, and he practically scolds your terrible choice of friends— but he goes quiet when you tell him that you’ve been friends with her since middle school

“good fucking riddance. next time, i’ll punch them as soon as they say something outta line, got that?” and next time (hopefully, there won’t be a next time) you’ll actually lash out— or maybe,, you’ll let him loose for once.

todoroki shouto

now shouto might be,, socially unaware sometimes. but he can tell whenever someone’s trying to insult his s/o

like,, right away.

now— you both run into this person after a pleasant date, and she eagerly presented herself as your friend

so, her attitude catches him off guard because who’d have anything rude to say about you and towards shouto’s face? especially when it’s about something normal.

like,, wasn’t she your friend?? why is she even like this?

his hostility is very well known, so they should be scared.

he gets detached from the conversation, and he’ll immediately go cold— and shouto would probably go as far as walking away with your hand in his

doesn’t matter if he properly says goodbye or not— if a girl’s being rude to his s/o, they obviously don’t deserve his usually polite attitude. nope, that’s a luxury.

oh— and what more when they’re seeking for his validation. newsflash! said pick me girl won’t be get any from him.

SCENARIO

shouto couldn’t stop the bitterness bleeding into his mouth, when the girl in front of him continued to babble and take up the valuable time he had left with his s/o

initially, she presented herself as your friend from middle school— but as of now? she seems to be more interested in him more than you, despite knowing you first.

she’d ask him a string of obvious questions with very obvious answers, like ‘is she treating you well?’ ‘is she acting correctly?’ and questions of the sort

“oh, sorry! i’d hate to cut this conversation short, but—” you finally decide that it was about time to leave, while shouto looks pretty,, deadpanned right now, you could tell that he was gradually starting to get irritated by your friend’s words.

“wait. thats.. kind of controlling, don’t you think? do you ever let shou make decisions?”

“uh.. controlling? since when??” you question at the accusation. this girl knows nothing about your relationship dynamic, and she’s already jumping the gun and making conclusions.

your gaze snaps back to shouto, who looks just as surprised as he could possibly be.

“yeah! it clearly looks like he still wants to talk” which is an obvious lie, shouto just wants it out of here “i wonder how you managed to snag such a guy like him,” she comments with a smile that looked anything above suspicion (yet, it makes your stomach churn)

you could see the way her hand gets gradually closer to him— and frankly, you’re not sure about what she was planning to do next, “you wouldn’t need to dress all expensive and fancy, if you’re with a girl with an already classy appear—”

“i think this conversation is over,” shouto grip is firm on the wrist that was attempting to grab his shoulder, shouto makes no attempt to even look at the girl infront of him “i don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not humorous. at all.”

“what?” she stammers, drawing her hand back “i-it’s obvious they don’t know how to take a joke! this is why there are barely any good w—”

shouto’s next actions knocks her speechless, his hand rests at the small of your back, before gently guiding you forward— “love, what movie are we watching later?” he says, making an effort to press a quick, yet intense kiss on your lips

“oh,” you breathe out, surprised by this action. “don’t be so tense, love.” shouto comments on how tense your shoulders have looked, ever since she started running her mouth, “now.. what movie do you want to watch tonight? comedy? thriller?”

“you pick,” you laugh at the quick shift of topic. and when you look behind you, you could see shame and defeat welling up on her face. shouto finally feels like he could smile again, the bitterness dissipating from his mouth

after shouto questions you if that was what a pick me girl was, he makes sure that you guys won’t ever encounter such thing again

“you.. don’t have more friends like that, right? if you do— we could always do another friend list cleansing.” this statement makes you laugh but shouto is anything but joking

but being reminded of his reaction to that ‘pick me’ girl does puts a smile on your face.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[littlelioncub43]

Does he deserve anything good in life based on canon? Not really. However, they made the decision to put Chris Evans in a cable knit sweater, so it's time for *cracks knuckles* soft Ransom Drysdale content.

We usually baby-boy-ify everyone here, but this man definitely wants to feel like he's the big boss, the man, the king of his household, and sometimes it feels nice to indulge in it. Because of that, when one day he feels particularly frustrated and out of it after several hours of unsuccessful meetings, you make sure to welcome him home in one of those stereotypical houswife style with a quiet "Welcome home, Mr Drysdale." as you take his coat off.

Of course, we can go the route where he gets his frustration out on you sexy-style immediately, not opposed to that, but-

What if you just spend the evening doing whatever he asks of you until he feels good again... Dinner? Already waiting for him. His tie is annoying him? He obviously needs you to take it off, along with his shirt, and help him change in one of the sweaters. His head hurts? Of course you are more than happy to give him a head massage while he complains about "the new piece of shit writer" he's being forced to work with.

- P!R

See I'm a sucker for manipulation. Giving someone something so you can get what you want, it butters my muffins (and I mean that in the least toxic way possible 😹). Anyway, reader manipulates Ransom into feeling better by babying him without babying him. It veers off into housewife kink territory.

See he needs to be babied, but there are some days where the regular routine just doesn't cut it. Today was one of those days. That's how you found yourself picking out Ransom's favorite lounging clothes, his towel in the dryer so it'll be all toasty for him when he gets out of the shower, and his favorite meal cooling off on the counter.

"Welcome home, Mr. Drysdale," you coo in a calm voice, pecking his lips while you take his coat from him. He's not in a talking mood, and also a little confused but the smell of dinner catches his attention. Before he could say anything else, you're petting his chin with your thumb, "why don't you go wash up for dinner? I'll get everything ready."

He's fumbling with his tie in your shared bedroom when he feels a gentle tap on his shoulder. You chuckle when you see the knotted mess of a tie, the sound making him smile ever so softly. You undo it within seconds and take his dirty clothes to the laundry room.

Once he's in the shower, Ransom finally starts to relax a little. A hot shower can do wonders. He shuts off the water and hears the door open and shut. Wiping the steam from the glass, Ransom looks to find his favorite towel neatly folded and waiting for him. When he wraps it around him, the warmth of it has him sighing with relief. Oh yeah, this is what he needed.

He finds you in the kitchen, setting the table while you hum a soft tune. You feel his arms wrap around your waist slowly, trapping you against him. He tucks his head into your neck as he eases into the hug. Ransom wasn't very big on hugging, he did it once in a while so every time he did hold you it made it that much more special. You lay your head against his and fold your hands over his.

"Hey," you say smoothly, "good shower?"

"Mmhmm," he mumbles into your skin with a nod. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," you were practically melting at how sweet he was being. You try to move from his grasp but he tightens his hold. "I gotta get dinner on the table, honey," you chuckle.

"Fine," he huffs but kisses your cheek as he lets you go, "but you're going to sit in my lap while we watch TV after."

"Where else would I sit?" You tease gently, making him grin.

He sits at the head of the table as you bring over the dishes of food. The food looks absolutely delicious, you had perfected his favorite meals over the years of being together and knew when to bust them out. As you make your plates, Ransom can't help but stare at you. Thinking to himself that he's got it, everything a man could ask for right there, wearing the diamond ring he picked out, sitting next to him at the dinner table like it's where you belong.

Hell, he's thinking that it's where he belongs, right there with you.

I no longer have a taglist! If you want to be up-to-date with when I post, follow @littlelioncub-library 💖

Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

[kingdaddydaichi]

NSFW Alphabet || Katsuki Bakugou

I had so much fun with this! Vodka may or may not have been involved in the making of this little ditty. 🍸 I hope you shameless hussies enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. 😩

*Exhibit A:

(Source)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I feel like he gets clingy asf, but plays it off like it's something he's doing for your sake. He'll probably never admit that he feels so vulnerable after sex, but he does. If it was a rough session - which it usually is with him - he'll ask if you're okay, if you're hurt anywhere, kiss any marks he left on you - he's such a protective hero boi.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: he's not gonna lie, he's fully aware of how well-endowed he is. He really is proud of his cock, the way it makes you sing when he works it - and he knows how to work it okay? Favorite non-sexual body part - his arms. He works hard to keep them cut (as in lifting, not cutting). 😬

Yours: listen, Katsuki is an ass man through and through. Go ahead and tell me I'm wrong, I'm 👏🏼 not 👏🏼 listening 👏🏼. He loves to watch the subtle ripples he sends through your ass cheeks when he's driving into you from behind. Also, our big scary boomboom man appreciates a nice, thicc pair of thighs. Bonus points if they're muscular/toned - he loves the way it feels when your thighs have such a strong grip around him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Let's just say our boy's orgasms are explosive. He cums hard and loud, shooting long ropes of his hot seed. Consistency is about average, not too thick, not to thin, but there's a lot of it. He doesn't taste too bad - salty, but not too bitter. You're more likely to gag from the sheer volume and force of his cum hitting the back of your throat than the flavor.

His precum gets honorable mention here. It's fucking delicious. That is all.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It took him no less than 2 years into your relationship to tell you this, and if you ever tell anyone he might actually kill you, or at the very least make your ass bleed. He hasn't gotten to the point that he's ready to try it yet, but he's not entirely opposed to the idea of you pegging him. Someday. It kinda does make his balls tingle a little just thinking about it tbh. He hasn't yet, but he thinks he might be ready to try working up to it and is really close to asking you to stick a finger in his ass and stroke his prostate. He's heard how good it feels and he's super curious to find out for himself.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced, actually. He's only had 1 or 2 lovers before you, BUT he's determined to be #1 at everything. Couple that with how perceptive he is and you've got yourself a winner of a loverboy. He's going to make damn sure that, even if things don't work out between you two, he will always ALWAYS be the best you've ever had. No other man will outdo him, E-V-E-R.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggystyle all the way, baby. As stated before, he loves watching your booty jiggle every time he slams his hips against it. He gets off on spreading your ass cheeks to watch his slick-coated cock slide in and out of you. God he just loves hitting it from behind, makes his dick so fucking hard.

Bonus 2nd Favorite Position (couldn't help myself): you on your back with your ankles on his shoulders, your ass lifted off the bed, him on his knees and hugging those thick thighs of yours, keeping them closed as he reams into you. (Slight variation of this one: he leans over you, nearly folding you in half, putting you back on your shoulders with his hands pressing into the mattress beside you, angling you such that his prominent corona rubs over your g-spot as he drills down into you. 10/10 you're gonna scream his name when (not if) your liquid gushes all over him.)

Tell me the truth, am I a disgusting human being? Here are all the fucks I give:

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Bakugou is serious asf about his sex game. This is not the time to joke around or poke fun at him, understand me? If you do he will get pissed and either fuck the silly out of you, or if he's feeling particularly ruthless he'll just stop altogether and let you ache for him as punishment until you beg him for release.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He takes care of his body, paying a lot of attention to his hygiene, which includes manscaping to keep his pubic hair trimmed and kempt. The carpet's just a shade darker than the drapes, like a honey blond. If he lets it grow out, it sticks straight out just like his head hair. It's actually kind of funny and he hates it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

*sigh* Let's be honest. Katsuki is not the super romantic type, at least not outwardly. However, if he realizes something he's doing is hurting you - physically or emotionally - he's going to stop dead in his tracks and hold you close, push his fingers through your hair, and tell you how much he loves you and how safe you are. He can be rough and he can be an asshole, but if he thinks he's genuinely hurt you at all, he's all over you, doing everything he can to make you understand that he will never let anyone hurt you, especially not himself. Got that?

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't jack off very often. You two share a very active sex life so he doesn't see the need to. If you have to be apart for more than a day or two, he'll rub one out. Or if the need hits him particularly hard and you're not available or in the mood, he's not above closing his eyes and reaching into his pants to wrap his thick fingers around his cock and start tugging.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lord Baby Jesus, where do I even begin? Kinky, kinky Katsuki. This man should come with warning signs and disclaimers.

First of all, he dom asf okay? Even if he lets you play with his ass someday, he's gonna be bratty about it. He's going to top from the bottom, hashtag facts. And trust that he WILL own you afterwards to securely reestablish his dominance.

Giving and Receiving: Hair pulling. DIRTY TALK - you think he's got a potty mouth in the streets? His mouth is downright filthy between the sheets. Loves it when you dirty talk right back to him. "You love taking my fat cock, don't you princess?" "Mm yessss, fuck me, Katsuki! Your cock feels so fucking good babyyy!" He eats that shit up.

Giving Only: Degradation. Praise. Spanking. Cockwarming. Dom/sub/power play. Shibari/ropework (he tried it bc you wanted to and he fucking loved it). Creampies. Begging. Discipline. Ravishment.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Literally anywhere inside your home/homes - bed, bathroom/kitchen countertops, kitchen/dining table, office desk/chair, any piece furniture is fair game really, up against a wall, washer/dryer, the fucking floor, ugh just all the places to fuck. Not one square foot is sacred tbh.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Wear something that showcases the curve of your butt. Doesn't have to be revealing per se, matter of fact he'll get possessive as fuck if you're showing too much skin in public. At home/privately though? He can't help himself. Dat ass tho...he is going to smack it hard enough that it stings and that's final, understand?

Tease him. You can't be obvious about it though. If he senses that you're doing it on purpose, it'll just backfire. But if you just so happen to brush against his crotch when you squeeze past him, it'll drive him crazy. Go commando in short shorts/skirt and cross your legs just so, his dick will twitch. Even better if you do shit like this in public where you know he won't act on it. But when you get home you best believe he's going to dick you down so hard, won't even bother to take said shorts or skirt off.

His ears and neck are his most sensitive erogenous zones. Whisper in his ear or kiss his neck and he's going to grit his teeth in an effort to fight back the shudder that threatens to rattle his bones.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Let's get one thing straight. Katsuki Bakugou does not share. This is non-negotiable. He will not agree to anything involving additional people - cuckolding, threesomes, orgies, exhibitionism, voyeurism (unless it's him watching you pleasure yourself - that he will gladly do, and probably start palming himself in the process).

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves giving and receiving. Giving puts him in full control of your pleasure, receiving makes him feel like you're worshipping his cock, which you probably are. Have you seen this man's cock? Of course you have. Gatdamn.

Y'all, Katsuki's so good at eating pussy. Like how does one get that good at eating pussy? I don't even know, but god the way he flicks his hot tongue over your precious, tiny bud before wearing it down like a fucking feed bag? It's unnatural. Like it could be his backup quirk if blowing shit up doesn't work out. You've seen the way he licks his lips when he gets excited, everyone has.* He doesn't even bother swallowing while he's feeding on you so you just be dripping in slick and saliva and he's just slurping away. It's lewd.

*See Exhibit A above.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

You already know this, but I'll say it anyway. His go-to fucking style is fast and rough, dominant and relentless, hard and dirty. But every once in a while he'll want to take you slow and deep and passionate. He'll hold you so tight in his arms and chest, you'll have to tap his shoulder sometimes to let you breathe. And he'll just roll his hips so fucking thoroughly both of you will feel every last inch, his pubic bone rubbing your clit so hard. You've told him so many times how much you love it when he makes love to you like this, but he maybe makes it a rare treat on purpose. 😈 Little shit.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are difficult for our boy. It's not that he's against them, it's just that he savors every drop of sensuality, he has a tendency to draw the pleasure out as long as possible. He can’t help it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

The idea of having public sex turns him on, but he's only done it with you a couple of times when he was 10000% sure you wouldn't be caught. He can't risk doing anything that would tarnish his reputation and goal of becoming the #1 Hero. He might be freaky as hell, but he needs a sex scandal like an Alaskan needs a refrigerator.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He loves you long time. He's a Taurus for fuck's sake (well, Aries/Taurus cuspie, but that just sweetens the deal). Great stamina. Grinds you down like a whetstone. Can last as long as he needs to to ensure you cum for him as many times as it takes for you to beg him to stop. If he feels himself getting too close while you're blowing him, he'll stop you and go down on you instead. If he's inside of you, he'll pull out and start kissing all over your body, sucking, nipping, licking until his urge to cum passes, then he pushes it right back in and keeps going.

If on the off-chance he does cum before you, he'll be ready to go again in about 20-30 mins. Just give him some motivation, he deserves it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He didn't own any toys when you first got together, but you did. He hated the idea of you using them though, especially when he's right there with you. You've since assured him that you don't want to use them to replace him, but to enhance the pleasure. So now you do use them from time to time.

The first time you managed to coax him into using a toy together, it was a small wireless bullet with a remote. When you brought it out and showed it to him, there was a wild glint in his eye. He carefully inserted the vibrator into you, his cock slowly following suit. He loved the fact that he had complete control over this thing, but later complained because the sensation of it against the head of his cock made him cum too fast. He still wants to use it sometimes though. ���

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he can be so unfair. He loves teasing you until you're begging him to put his cock inside you. He's not so much into orgasm denial per se; he just loves to hear you beg him for shit - to let you cum, to suck his dick, to stop fucking you when you're overstimmed, etc.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lol he's fucking LOUD! And he's going to make you cum so hard that you're screaming his fucking name. There was a time when one or both of you lived in an apartment and the neighbors would bang on the wall behind your headboard.

Shit, what sounds does he NOT make? He growls, moans, grunts, groans, yells, swears, fucks you so hard you can hear the wet sound of slapping skin, hell even the bed protests. Another reason he doesn't fuck in public - he can't stay quiet enough to be discreet about it.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Okay, as much of a wild sex beast as he is behind closed doors, he gets embarrassed so easily when your sex life is so much as hinted at around others. It's legit funny how flustered he gets about it.

If he goes into work real tired and Kirishima says, "Hey Bakubro, you look like shit this morning. You and (y/n) stay up too late?" while doing the finger in the hole gesture, Katsuki will just "Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair, or I'll blast your ass right through that fucking wall!"

Or if you two go out together with friends and the girls are talking about sex-related stuff, Katsuki will just roll his eyes and try to ignore it. But if one of them is all "So, (y/n), does Bakugou ever like accidentally let off explosions while you're doing it?" and you wink and say, "Only when he's especially *cough* frustrated *cough*". Katsuki will go red from his neck up to his hairline and start stuttering, sparks flying from his palms. "H-hey, d-don't tell them sh-shit like that! I-it's none of their god-goddamn b-business, (y/n), what th-the f-fuck?!" Meanwhile, you and the girls are in stitches while he stomps away, just mortified, bless his heart. When you catch your breath from laughing you'll follow it up with, "Looks like tonight's gonna be one of those nights", and you all lose it again.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

As has been mentioned, Bakugou's well-endowed. I figure he's packing about 7.5-8" in length x just under 2" wide. He takes some getting used to, that's for damn sure. Oh, and he's more of a shower than a grower. Like around 6" long x 1.5" wide when flaccid. Katsuki + sweatpants/basketball shorts = swinging dick print, alright sis? Take notes, this motherfucker visibly jumps when he does, class dismissed.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Eh, he's surprisingly not ridiculously horny. Maybe a little above average sex drive? A lot of times hero work just takes it out of him and he comes home utterly exhausted and just needs a soft place to land, and you provide him with all the love and nurturing in your heart. ❤

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends, really, on the time of day and what type of day it's been. If it's late (like past 9pm lol) and he fought more villains than usual that day, he's probs gonna pass out pretty soon after. If it's earlier in the day - especially first thing in the morning - it gets him pumped and almost comically genki.

[anika-ann]

Walk Me Home Tonight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, songfic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 4700

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

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

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

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

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

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, poor guy. No tips for him tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dammit, Steve.

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

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

“I guess…”

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

“…and?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh? He… knew?

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

“Why?”

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

Why did Steve feel like you needed a chaperone?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-huh.”

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

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

“…are you? Okay?”

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

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

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

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

“What about it-?“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you know?”

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

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

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

And you were alright with that. More than alright.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, so am I.”

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

“Wasn’t it? If I was faster, if I-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight, you… you needed serenity and comfort.

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

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

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

“Always.”

You settled back to the comfortable silence after that.

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

 You reached the Tower hand in hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not a dog to be praised, Steve…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve!”

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

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

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

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

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

“See you in ten then.”

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

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

*✧･ Bonus *✧･

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

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

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

Probably.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

S.R. masterlist

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

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

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

Thank you for reading!

[midnightlee25]

Yandere ABC: Wakatoshi Ushijima

A Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Early on it will be little things (he had to get advice from his team) flowers, candy, somewhat romantic love letters but as times goes he will get the hang of “romance”.  Being more physical (kisses, cuddles things like this) he can be very soft with you.   

B Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

If he is enraged enough then they will be nothing but a stain. it will still get messy but at least they will still have a chance of living….at least sometimes.

C Cruelty : How would they treat their darling 

He is only cruel if he knows you've been bad (being cold towards you, leaving you in the dark ect.) other than that he will just be very strict.

D Delusional : How aware are they?

Not very, he believes that if he can make you sure he can be a good partner then you'll love him. He just sees all the other ‘bad parts’  are just him showing you the best way to be. He wants the best for you is all. 

E Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Slowly, it's not if he doesn't trust you (as long as you behave)he just doesn't think everything should be shown all at once. 

F Fight : How would they feel if their darling fought back?

It's not like you could ever win against him anyways so he just finds it a bit tiring and annoyting at times.

H Hell :What would be their darling’s worst experience?

When he snaps it happens very rarely but it's a nightmare when it happens. He’ll place his hand around your neck (not tight, it's just a warning after all) and pushes you against the wall as you lock eyes. Yours whole of fear trying to figure out what he will do next while he's just...blank..no emotion whatsoever. Then for what feels like hours he puts his hand down, walks out of the room and locks the door leaving you in the dark. 

I Ideals : What is their plan for the future?

Him being one of the best aces around with you by his side with a little one of course.( he doesn't want too many just one or two at the most if you want more than you’ll have to have  a deep talk with him.)

 J Jealousy : How jealous are they when it comes to their darling?

Surprisingly it's a mix of jealousy and protecting, it's more wanting to protect you than anything else. 

K Knowledgeable : How much would they try to learn about their darling?

The ‘normal’ things like, dislikes ,schedules.  Basically if he sees it as useful he will learn it but if not then he wouldn't.  

L Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

I believe he would do things every old fashioned way, offering to walk you when it's dark( or to the dorm), leaving flowers or candy at your desk or locker, letting you use his coat when it's cold ect. (if he sees you are feeling the same then he will hand you the flowers or candies in person)

M Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

No he would basically be the same except he will show more emotions when you're alone. (he would also be more controlling and overbearing) 

N Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Isolation and intimidation. For the most part his intimidation is what keeps you in line but if you step out of line then he will do things that will scare you back. ( like what he did in darling’s worst experience, anticipation it's what he uses.)

O Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

His not taking away your rights pre say its just trying to show you the right and wrong things.

P Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He will be fairly patient. He does understand that not everything can be done in a short time some things just take time.

Q Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

He would be numb, he would just….stop feeling.. Anything, everything would just be dark and unfeeling.

R Regret : Would they feel guilty? Would they let go?

No, he doesn't really see anything wrong with what he's doing. 

S Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

It's just how he is plus with how his parents' relationship ended he wouldn't want that for himself (who would?) so he would do whatever he can to make sure that doesn't happen. 

T Tears : How do they feel about their darling crying, screaming, and/or throwing a tantrum

Same as tendo if you're going to act like a child then you'll be treated like one. But if you really are sad then he will hold you close.  

U Unique : Does anything make them different from the classic yandere?

The poker face he keeps (metaphorically and not) he keeps calm in a high stress situation so if the police ever came to talk to him he could do as if you were not in the basement at that moment. 

V Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Truth be told…. Nothing. You would basically have to either knock him out (which is near impossible) or lock him in a room and hope you can find the keys in time. 

W Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

He may break you down metanlly but not physically although he may make it seem like he would. 

X Xoanon : How much would they worship their darling?

Not as god/goddess as most of the other yanderes would but  he treats you differently than most people.

Y Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He would wait a few months( mostly to make sure the feelings would stay) before starting to leave little gifts and such. 

Z Zeal : How passionate would they be? Would they be passionate enough to break their darling?

He would try to be passionate and romantic although with how he is it may come off a bit...plain. So passion wouldn't be the thing that breaks you.  

[yong-bokk]

all in²

pairing: special agent ! lee felix x medical examiner ! reader

genre: f for fluff and felix

warnings: mentions of dead bodies and a ghost.. or a murderer... or a ghost murderer

welcome back to skz criminal investigation division !!

today

i’d like to introduce you to special agent lee felix yongbok ( ⁎ᵕᴗᵕ⁎ ）

he’s one of the two agents with the prettiest long blond hair in the division in the whole wide world

also has the prettiest !! freckles !! that looks like stardust sprinkled all over his cheeks

to conclude: felix looks like a tiny ball of sunshine,

especially when he smiles ,,

BUT he can kick ass real hard ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

very good with weapons and combat in general

he also has the deepest voice which comes in handy during interrogations

“stand up and show your skills you know the drill”

+12983742 points for intimidation >:

don’t u worry though

bc he’s nothing but a cuddle bug and the sweetest ball of fluff to his loved ones ‧⁺✧(⁙´ワ`⁙)⁺

and that will include u

ESPECIALLY u

but first ! u’ll have to meet him

so u, my precious reader, are the new medical examiner in the office yay!!!

it has only been a week since u started ur new job and u’re still trying to adjust

but thankfully u have seungmin, the senior medical examiner and also ur new partner, who has been so so helpful and friendly

u’ve been so busy during ur first week with work and all the transfer administrations that u haven’t got the chance to formally meet everyone

so far u’ve only met, well, seungmin

and the unit chief, bang chan, who is very friendly too

but one day !!

an unfamiliar face showed up at the medical examiner’s office |ω・)

GUESS WHO

i’m going to give u a clue

long blond hair, prettiest freckles, and a BLINDING smile

YES

FELIX (♡ > ◡ < )

he came to ur office to fetch a report from seungmin

and that’s when he saw u for the first time

u were bagging up a few articles of clothing to send to forensics

felix never thought anyone could make a lab coat look so pretty

but THERE U WERE LOOKING LIKE AN ANGEL

u: exist

felix’s lovestruck braincells: (⸝⸝⸝ᵒ̴̶̷ ｡ ᵒ̴̶̷⸝⸝⸝)(⸝⸝⸝ᵒ̴̶̷ ｡ ᵒ̴̶̷⸝⸝⸝)(⸝⸝⸝ᵒ̴̶̷ ｡ ᵒ̴̶̷⸝⸝⸝)

cue: felix embarrassing himself in front of u

“hi, i’m here to r-report”

?????????

u are ??????(・ ・ ? confused

bc the most beautiful person u’ve ever seen just popped out of nowhere and says he’s here to report?

what does he even have to reportksljflkasdf

“hi! uhm i’m sorry, report what?”

“the medical report….?”

????????????????what????????

“OHH u mean u’re here for the medical report? hold on”

……

out of his entire lifetime

his brain choses to be dysfunctional right there in front of u

felix, deep down inside: i want to. (」｡≧□≦)」 D I S SIPATE. (」｡≧□≦)」

“oh right y-yeah, for the burn victim”

u hand him a copy of the report u had prepared and walked him through some of the findings

“we found something in the victim’s ear but i think we haven’t heard back from the lab-“

“hey yn they ran out of the cookies u wanted- oh! (｡･o･｡)ﾉ hey felix!”

“h-hi seungmin”

seungmin looks at him weirdly bc ??? what was that

who is this and what have they done with felix, his giggly cuddlebug of a friend

ANYWAYS

after u finished going through everything, felix said thank u and bolted out of ur office so quick

chan: “u okay there, buddy? u look.. uh”

“……that’s exactly how i feel too”

since then on

he never stops thinking about u

also keeps reminding himself of how embarrassing he was and gets sad over it again • ʖ̯ • )

not that he knows but !! u keep thinking of him too

u’re a little sad that all u know about him is that his name is felix (he didn’t even tell u himself :c ) and that he’s one of the special agents in chan’s division

but u two don’t see each other again after that for awhile

the next time u saw him was when u got back to ur office after lunch break

felix was fetching another report from seungmin

and he was all smiley and giggly (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* with seungmin but the moment u walked into the room

he just smiles awkwardly at u and rushes out

u figured that he’s uncomfortable whenever u’re around

:(

and it was like that for a very long time

he’d come in with chan sometimes for the reports

and he’d be like buddy-buddy with seungmin but whenever u’re there he’s just hhshdfhshfgotta go

u wanted to be his friend too because he looks so lovely to be around :(

little did u know that he’s just shy because he likes u like A LOT and his brain just short circuits whenever u’re within his eyesight :(

u got felix going dumb da da dumb (sorry)

but stop being sad bc

here comes !! the twist to the plot !! (｡✧ᴗ✧｡)

one day

u were working late and we’re talking like LATE late because

(1) seungmin was out of office for a hearing, and

(2) suddenly 4 new bodies came into the office in a span of 2 hours?!@?!?!@# and u were currently in the brink of breaking down ；—；

but seungmin didn’t raise no quitter

with the power of coffee and anime by ur side, u started working through the bodies one by one

it’s a little past midnight now and u were quite sure the last light outside ur office turned off a couple hours ago and

u see

u could just leave and have seungmin work at it in the morning

but the caffeine in ur bloodstream said u wouldn’t be able to sleep once u get home anyway so

(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و back to work (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و

u were scraping something from the last victim’s nails when suddenly ??? the lights went off

ok let’s be real

u are ⁿᵒᵗ afraid

u work with dead bodies every. day. but it’s god knows what o’clock in the morning AND NOW it’s pitch black and u just hhhhSHDFHS

ur hand went into ur pocket to fish out ur phone but then u remembered that u left it to charge on ur table AT THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM

reader u dummy

u didn’t know how long u froze in that same spot bc ???u’re kinda afraid and u couldn’t see anything

but suddenly u heard the sound of glass shattering and someone’s groan and u thought

this is it this is ur END

seungmin is going to walk into this office tomorrow and find 5 bodies instead of 4

u crouched as a horrible attempt to hide from the ghost……….. or potential murderer…………. honestly u don’t know which one’s better (maybe bc the answer is NOT BOTH??!)

u were internally cursing about how u could’ve had a scalpel in hand for self protection but instead all u had with u was a goddamn TOOTHPICK when u felt something? or someone?touch ur shoulder

“hey-“

“p leasedon’t kill me i’m new here i really don’t know anything pleaseiwon’t sayanything to anyone”

“YN IT’S ME”

“THEY EVEN KNOW MY NAME ALREADYSDKFJSK I REALLY DON’T WANT TO D-“ Σ(ﾟДﾟ；≡；ﾟдﾟ)

“i’m not here to kill usdfskdfjs it’s me!! felix”

,,,,,,,,

felix? (･Θ･)

well

that was

,,,,,,,,embarrassing

“w-what are u doing here?”

“the electricity got cut off and i heard hyunjin say u’re working late and probably still down here so… (´ . .̫ . `) i came here to check on u”

u could barely make out his face in the dark but he was close enough u could see him smiling at u

the two of u just stayed there crouching on the ground and u were just about to say something when suddenly the lights flickered on again

( 〃．．) ohsldkfjs he’s so close and if he keeps smiling that lovely u swear u’ll combust

“are u gonna go home yet?”

“i-i’m not done yet”

“oh ! i’ll wait for u”

“WHAT no it’s late go home”

!!!!

“exactly! it’s late!! i’m not letting u go home at 3 in the morning by urself”

so u quickly finish and when u’re done u found felix nearly dozing off on ur table </3

how can a person be so CUTE ◕︿◕

he walked u home and offered u his jacket along the way

(wouldn’t take no for an answer)

it was a little awkward bc the two of u are just very very Shy

but u enjoyed his company

when u finally arrived at ur apartment,

the two of u just stood there for a little while, u fiddling with ur bag and him with his earring

“i-“ “hey-“

“sorry, u go first”

“i apologize for scaring u earlier…. whenever we meet i just always embarrass myself”

he mumbled the second half of his sentence and ur sleep-deprived brain couldn’t make out what he said but !! he looked so disappointed (っ◞‸◟c)

so u gave him a tiny hug

“no, thank you for checking up on me earlier and for walking me home”

:o

felix was bright red

shy shy felix shy

“no worries..” ⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄ ⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ “i guess.. i uh- i’ll get going, yeah? see u tomorrow?”

“see u tomorrow, be safe”

felix waited until u went inside and then let out a giggle

u hugged him

this is the BEST day of his life

it doesn't even matter if his house is on the other side of the city

he’d walk u home every day if it means u would hug him again

bonus:

“thanks for walking me home again” (⌒⌣⌒ )

lix looked like he was about to ask u something

but all he could say is his usual “no worries”

u see

felix has been meaning to ask u for ur number for a WEEK now but he just couldn’t seem to get the words out of his head >:

he was just about to chicken out once again when u fished out ur phone and gave it to him

“u know… i’d say text me when u get home but i don’t have ur number”

smooth reader very smooth (＾⌒＾*)

he thanked the heavens he didn’t drop ur phone when typing in his number because boy was he SHAKING

the two of u stayed up all night texting and neither could stop smiling that day

[thran-duils]

Use All of Me (P.2)

Title: Use All Of Me (Part Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Steve Rogers. The Avengers are heroes saving the world but in this AU, they are also permitted by the powers in charge to have less than favorable business underneath their guise of mere superheroes. Steve and Tony are at the helm, keeping their empire’s wealth in check, both devious and perilous if crossed. Steve takes a liking to the reader at a party and it may be her undoing to her autonomy choosing to go home with him. Words: 2,384 Warnings: Dark AF, angst, emotional/mental abuse, smut, breeding, death Author’s Notes: This relationship is going to go ~downhill~ from healthy really quick. Please do not read if that is going to offend you.

Part One || Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

You woke up a few hours later to Steve still sleeping soundly. You were feeling closer to sober than not, which was good news considering you would most likely not have a hangover. Carefully, you crawled out of bed to not disturb him. Slipping your underwear and bra on, you kept quiet. Checking your phone, it was four in the morning. There were a couple missed texts from people. The one that mattered was sending one to Natalie to let her know you were okay; she had texted almost two hours ago and was probably sleeping now – albeit anxiously – and still you sent a quick text. It would put her at ease when she woke up. Everyone else would be asleep and could wait, you merely just read the handful of them.

Clicking on your uber app, you guessed that the prices be higher than normal considering the time of day, but you needed to get home. It was going to take them fourteen minutes to get there. You would have to move quickly to get dressed and get back outside.

Your finger was hovering over confirm when Steve sounded from behind you, “What are you doing?”

Craning your head over your shoulder, you saw he was still lying in bed, blanket still over him. It seemed he had been watching you with your back turned; for how long, you were unsure.

“Sorry, I tried to not wake you,” you apologized. You held up your phone weakly and said, “Just ordering an Uber.”

“I wasn’t sleeping all that much anyway. Don’t need much,” he told you and you rose your eyebrows. “Perks of being me. If you want, I can drive you home.”

“Oh. I mean, that’s not necessary. I can just order this Uber.”

“I’m not drunk if that’s what you’re worrying about,” Steve assured you and added with a small smirk, “A downside of being me. I can’t.”

“Wow,” was the first thing that came to mind.

“Yeah, wow.”

“That… kind of sucks.”

Steve chuckled, “Yeah, sometimes it does.” He threw the blankets back, nude as the day as he was born still. “But it does erase possibilities of me doing foolish things drunk and regretting them in the morning. Or being caught off guard.” He tossed a glance your way at that last statement.

“Good thing you can see the silver lining,” you said, closing the Uber app. You watched him for a few moments dressing himself, eyes tracing the movement of his muscles before reaching down to pick up your dress.

You were pondering what other things were different about him than the average person. You had thought him being a superhero was all about his strength, but it seemed there were far more things beneath the surface.

Steve reached for something in the bedside table, pulling out a handgun. He caught your watchful gaze, “What’s wrong? Guns make you uncomfortable?”

You had not seen him slip that into the drawer when you had come up to the room. Granted, you had gone to the bathroom. Was it all that odd that someone like him had a concealed weapon? You were sure Natasha Romanoff had been armed to the teeth.

Calmly, you joked, “No. But are we in danger?”

“Not when you’re with me, doll face,” Steve said, holstering it into the waistband of his dark jeans. “I’ll always keep you protected.”

Cocking an eyebrow, you teased, “’Always’? It’s just a car ride home.”

Steve merely hummed in acknowledgment as he threw his black jacket over his shoulders, slipping his arms in. He gestured to the door, “After you.”

<> <> <>

How is your day going?

Fine, just doing laundry with Natalie. One of my friends from the party. You?

“He’s texting me again.”

You were sitting on top of one of the washing machines in your laundry room as you and Natalie did your laundry a few days after Steve had brought you home. He had commented that the building looked secure and you found the comment odd. But he seemed pleased with that fact, for your safety, so you assured him it was. There were a couple of tables in the laundry room, so instead of traveling back up the stairs, the two of you brought work or something else to keep yourselves occupied.

“I told you it was a bad idea,” Natalie intoned, looking up from where she was scribbling ideas away for her next presentation at work. “And stringing him along is an even worse one.”

“It’s not serious. He’s probably just bored. We just had a one-night stand. And if I recall, you were quite enthralled with another ‘dangerous’ person as well. So, are you really in a position to be chastising me?”

“I didn’t go home with her. I just had conversation.”

“She didn’t ask?”

“She insinuated. I may have said that I was seeing someone.”

A laugh escaped, amused. “So, you lied to her?”

“For good reason.” She then added, “You could have done the same, you know. You would have obliged his request for your company and still been able to escape it.”

“I didn’t want to escape ‘it’. He was good in bed.”

“I know,” Natalie returned, rolling her eyes. “That’s what frightens me about you, Y/N. You like danger too much.”

“He also added me on snapchat. Thinking about sending him some nudes.”

“Why? So he can revenge porn you?”

“You’re so damn cynical, Natalie.”

Your phone lit up, interrupting the conversation.

Working. On a small break. It is going to be a long week.

You meant to respond but you saw he was texting again, so you waited.

It would be nice to see you again after it. How about you come out with just me?

It sounds like you are asking me out on a date. Or am I being too bold in assuming that?

“What are you smirking at?”

“He wants to go on a date.”

“Christ almighty. Seems like he’s wanting more than a one-night stand if he’s still texting you asking you out on dates.”

You shrugged, reading the new message from him.

Not bold. That is exactly what I was doing. What do you like to eat?

Can’t beat a steaming bowl of banh canh tom cua.

You smirked, guessing he was going to have to google that unless he was a fan of the cuisine. It gave you a couple minutes to put your phone down to talk to Natalie.

Shrugging you said, “What’s the harm in going on a couple dates? He seems nice enough.”

“He’s a mob boss, Y/N.”

Waving her off, you said, “Those are just rumors.”

“I don’t think so. You know there’s some deep-seated corruption and you can’t have me believing that just because they save people, it’s strictly out of the goodness of their hearts. Seems they only care when it’s about aliens, not regular day problems. Or protecting their assets. You think all of Stark Industries is above water? His technology is all over the place I would bet especially since they work with the government.”

“Well, aliens are a catastrophe, which you would think would require someone like, I don’t know, superheroes? And if you think Stark Industries is so invasive, you probably shouldn’t talk about him in that tone. He might hear you.”

Natalie threw a pencil at you and you laughed. “Stop teasing me!”

“You’re making it really easy. Did I mention you were cynical yet?” you retorted as you noticed your phone light up again.

Looks like there’s a few places in Brooklyn. I could pick you up. Saturday, 7pm?

That sounds good.

“Looks like I’ve got a date with a hot guy and some really good soup on Saturday night. And I won’t have to pay for it!,” you chirped. Natalie just told you that you were hopeless.

<> <> <>

“You just fucking go around doing whatever the fuck you want! You would be nothing without…” a man, bound to a chair, to spit out but trailed off, knowing he was digging himself a hole with the man in front of him.

He had been caught trying to steal a shipment of drugs between one of Tony’s and Steve’s distributors, along with a handful of other men. The others had been disposed of, leaving him. The lucky one Steve – someone they had not expected to be there tonight, along with Natasha, and it had been happenchance he had stopped by. A tragic turn of events for the attempted robbery – had chosen to beat information out of. So far, he had not been helpful and Steve’s patience was wearing thin.

Steve flipped the chair across from the man around, sitting down in it, resting his arms on the back of the chair. His smile was cold, a few moments of tense silence building between them. The man was bleeding from his nose, abrasions on his cheeks from the beating. His blood was coating Steve’s gloves.

“No, no. Finish what you were going to say. You were so jazzed. Let’s see where that gets us,” Steve encouraged, a cruel glint in his eyes. “In fact, it’s the most talking you’ve done all damn night.”

The man was quiet again, spitting out some blood on the ground next to him.

Steve gestured impatiently for the man to continue.

“One day you’re going to get what you deserve, Captain America. You’re a fucking farce. You’re just as every bit dirty as the cops on Stark’s payroll.” He laughed darkly. “In fact, you might be the dirtiest of all. You act so damn pious out in the open, but down here? You keep those drugs moving and the money flowing to all the corrupt politicians. I at least own what I am. You’re going to get caught and I can’t wait to read that headline!”

Steve was staring at the man, that icy smile still plastered on his face. Suddenly, his gun was unholstered and he fixed the barrel of the gun underneath the man’s chin, clicking the safety off. Steve stared deep into the man’s fearful eyes, and said eerily calm, “See, now that was the wrong thing to say. And I am happy to you inform you that you won’t ever get the chance to read a headline like that.”

The man’s head painted the wall behind him, the gunshot rattling through the room.

“Prick,” Steve muttered to himself, placing the safety back on his gun.

Natasha pushed herself away from the corner she had been resting in, sighing. “Didn’t give us any information about who he was working for.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve muttered, Natasha shooting him a look. “He wasn’t going to tell us. They could have been working alone – which is doubtful since they knew exactly where to come. Or it could have been Adrian sending in some bums to do his dirty work. Who knows? What matters is this place was compromised. And whoever the hell let them get past the security lines…”

“Rhodes is dealing with it.”

“Good. I’m sick of this shit.”

“You seem more on edge tonight, Cap.”

Steve sighed heavily, checking his watch. It was almost eight o’clock at this point. “I had a date. This was supposed to be a quick stop, not turn into a shit show. I can’t even text her down here to let her know.”

“With who?”

“The woman,” he said tightly. She was right, he was in a bad mood. “From the party a couple weeks ago.”

Natasha nodded, “She was pretty.”

“Beautiful,” Steve corrected stiffly, and Natasha smirked in response at his defensiveness. “And now I must grovel in apology to her for missing tonight and essentially standing her up. It was only the second date. We had a great time the first time… had Vietnamese food.”

“Second?” Natasha asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Well… third. If you want to count the first night at the party. I need a change of clothes.”

Natasha snorted, “There should be some upstairs.” She followed him out of the room, as the began ascending the stairs. She gave the men standing outside the doors orders to clean up and mentioned there would be cleaning necessary upstairs too in the locker room. “I have never known you to go on more than one, Steve. So, three. Three is something. So, is she just that good in bed?”

“I intend to have her,” Steve informed Natasha, over his shoulder.

“Haven’t you already?” Natasha joked, much to Steve’s annoyance.

He spat, “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Chill out, Cap. I was just joking around. I’m not the one you’re mad at here; he’s dead back in the room,” Natasha pointed out as they approached the locker room. Before he could go inside, she asked, “You think it’s that serious? A wife? Babies?”

“I’m making it that serious.”

“What if she is just looking for a fling?”

“Like I said, I want her and I’m gonna have her.”

<> <> <>

Steve had stood you up. You had waited around for an hour, sent him a text when he had not shown up at six like the two of you had agreed on. He had not responded. You were disappointed but not too surprised. What had you been expecting? You had been truthful with your friends that you believed it was just going to be some fun with him; the duration of the fun had been in question. And now it appeared it was short lived. It was not the first time you had been ghosted.

You were already dressed up, so you texted a few of your friends, asking if they wanted to go out. You found yourself at a club, dancing, having fun despite the way your night had started out.

<> <> <>

Y/N’s phone went to voicemail the three times Steve tried to call her on his way over to her place. He did not like being ignored. He parked near her building and walked to it, circling it. None of the lights were on in the apartment, which struck him as odd. It was only 9:30pm.

Pulling his phone out, he opened Snapchat. Clicking on her icon, he scrolled down to where she was sharing her location.

~~~

Tags: @imsonick, @alexakeyloveloki, @kvzctam

[xenospacebabe]

Broken Wings pt. 3

Summary: After breaking one of his wings, Hawks breaks into an animal clinic for some help. Little does he know that the doctor there would occupy his mind this much

TW: Mentions of animal death.

Another busy week that seemed to endlessly drag on was coming to a close. There was a spike in Parvovirus cases in the last few days that had you hospitalizing as well as euthanizing beloved pets. You loved your job, but sometimes it really took a lot out of you. There were times where you lost more patients than you saved and it left you wondering if you were even good at what you do. However, there were the times where miracle patients made an unprecedented recovery. Those were the moments that kept you coming back.

The stress mounted on your shoulders, though. You had three dogs in isolation that were struggling to survive, so much so that you did your best to not promise anything to their owners. For now, they were resting in the silence of your closed clinic. You leaned back in your chair and let your head hang until you stared blankly at the ceiling. The muscles in your lower back burned and ached from standing and kneeling all day. Did you eat lunch today? Did you ever use the bathroom?

“Y’know I was really hoping you’d text me back this week, Doc.”

“WAH!” The sound of Keigo’s voice breaking through the fragile silence sent you backwards in your chair with a frightened shriek. But before you could hit the floor, you were looking up into Keigo’s eyes as he had rushed over to catch you. His good wing caught your chair while his hand cradled the back of your head.

“Woah easy there. I knew you’d fall for me but I didn’t think you’d do it literally.”

“Keigo! Oh shit, you scared me!” The winged hero looked so smug as he held you there. You were incredibly aware of just how close his face was to yours and you felt your stomach flip as a result. That stupid grin cracked on his lips, a wild eyebrow arching confidently.

“P-please help me up.” The shakiness in your voice was louder than you’d like it to be. But he brought you upright, nonetheless, in a smooth motion before sitting on your desk. “Thank you...”

“Hey it’s what heroes do, am I right? So-...” He reached forward with a gloved hand to fidget with the ends of your ponytail between his fingers. “What’s up? You seem more stressed than usual.”

Than usual? How would he know how stressed you are on a daily basis? You’d only seen each other twice, three times including today. What you didn’t know was that Keigo had a lot of time to fill while he allowed his wing to recover. Most of it was spent catching up on paperwork he had neglected back at headquarters. The rest of the time? He was watching you from afar. This strange instinct to keep an eye on you was out of character for him, he never paid this much attention to anyone who wasn’t a target for a mission.

But you...

Choosing to ignore that last statement, you let out a weary sigh. The tension in your shoulders relaxed and they slumped. Keigo observed you, choosing to stay quiet until you responded.

“It’s just...been a rough week. This business-...I don’t always get to save everyone and it was just a little more than I could handle this week.”

Something about that struck a chord in the depths of his heart. He knew about that reality all too well. Sometimes not everyone made it out alive, regardless of how hard he tried. And remarkably, you understood that. There wasn’t much he could say that would make you feel any better other than just a hum in his throat.

“Mmh...I get it. That’s a really heavy burden to carry.” The hand that played with your hair slipped out of its glove and rested on your shoulder to give it a reassuring squeeze. You felt your anxiety dissolve a little when he smiled at you.

“Anyway...that’s why I didn’t text you. I just didn’t have the moment to spare. I haven’t really left the clinic for more than a couple hours each day.” You let out an exhausted yawn behind your hand. Keigo noticed the way your nose scrunched up when you did so, and the cute squeak your throat made.

“Mmh my goodness, sorry. How’s the wing?” Back on track. He admired your tenacity and dedication to your work. Arms slipped out of his jacket followed by his uniform shirt. The redness returned to your features and you chewed your bottom lip nervously before regaining focus. It shouldn’t be this hard to look at a shirtless man. You’re an adult, get over yourself! But then again...you reminded yourself that there were no men like Keigo.

“Not too bad. The pain killers have helped but I didn’t wanna take them too long.” The splinted wing lifted and tried to flex. There was a tightness in the limb that was driving him crazy. And boy was it itchy. You noticed and began to remove the tape and gauze so you could feel the bone with your fingers.

To your surprise, Keigo didn’t flinch. In fact, you didn’t feel much of the break anymore. That was odd. One hand gently grasped the far side of his wing and slowly flexed it open. Once more, no pain response. You let go and told him to open and close it, which he did with a little strain but after a few tries it opened and closed in a smooth motion.

“How the-...this was a completely transverse fracture two weeks ago.” You muttered to yourself, truly confused but intrigued. Without thinking, you snagged Keigo by the wrist and yanked him into the radiology suite for immediate xrays.

“Woah hey! What?! What’s wrong?”

“On the table. Flex the wing. Hold still.” You were in like a trance, transfixed on getting answers. He did as you instructed without his usual teasing banter, the less he said the quicker you’d speak to him. You said nothing throughout the process, even after the images printed and were clipped to the lightbox.

“How?!” You gasped with your eyes trained on the image of Keigo’s healed wing. There wasn’t even the typical crease that came with the fusion of broken bones after they healed. You felt stupefied just gawking at his xrays.

“What?!” He practically shrieked, you were making him nervous by not explaining as quick as you usually did.

“It’s healed. I don’t-...did you know you could heal this quickly?” Keigo had the audacity to look embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly with a dumb smile on his handsome face.

“Ah yeah, I guess I did. But I dunno, I just figured I needed an excuse to keep seeing you.” Once again you found yourself in close proximity to the winged hero, too close, in fact. Being this close made it suddenly dawn on you that now he didn’t need to come back anymore. He was healed and had no reason to sneak into your cute little clinic after hours.

Keigo could see the realization on your face, your expressions were incredibly loud in spite of you not having said a single word. You’d only seen each other twice before today but even he could tell there was something there.

“Hey, why don’t you take a short break and come on a test flight with me, there’s something I wanna show you.”

“What now? Keigo I-..” His back was already retreating back to your office to put his shirt and coat back on. When he returned, he held your hoodie out that was on the back of your office door. You looked at the clock, your overnight tech would be here soon to look after the hospitalized patients. Maybe you could afford to slip out for just a little while.

“Come on. You won’t let me pay you with money, so let me thank you my way.”

There really was no arguing with Keigo, he was too headstrong. So you reached for your hoodie, only for him to yank it back. Instead, he held it open for you to slide your arms into. You were trying so hard not to swoon.

“Alright...let’s go.”

A/N: I’m really glad you guys are liking this drabble. I’m thinking of making it into a fanfiction of sorts, maybe. With some conflict and maybe a lil romance. Let me know what you think! I love feedback!

[dancingazaleas]

Can you write a modern au Historia Reiss x fem!reader imagine where the reader is in a band and has a very punk rock style, and Historias the popular cheerleader everybody drools over, and they hate each other but at a party some girl is flirting with the reader so historia takes her and fucks the reader silly in a bathroom and after confesses her feelings to r?

historia reiss | promise

ofc!!! pls i literally love cheerleader!historia. i hope this is good enough <33 !!

18+ pls ! [unedited]

warnings/notes: cursing, use of alcohol and drugs, eventual smut, jealous dom!historia, modern au!, college au!, cheerleader!historia, bathroom sex, degradation, slight praise, enemies to lovers supremacy, fem reader!, finger fucking, hints at pegging, and aftercare

you’re pissed, so pissed that you’re seeing white. you only know that you’re sitting under the bleachers of your college campus and that your best friend, annie, is sitting beside you.

historia reiss, the popular cheerleader adored by everyone, decided it would funny if she pulled a prank on you. the prank being drenched in ice water and then pouring pink glitter on your body from the second floor of campus.

the glitter stuck everywhere, even in your mouth. before you scrubbed some of it off, you looked like a bath bomb. the water made it stickier and made you cold.

you don’t know what kind of vendetta historia has against you, you’ve only just met her two years ago! you hadn’t even really talked her up until your freshman year of college. even then, you don’t think you had said anything rude or wrong.

you just assume she gets pleasure out of your suffering.

you’re ranting about historia to annie, who witnessed the whole incident, still covered head-to-toe in glitter. she’s smoking a cigarette and listening to you absentmindedly, a sign that she’s getting slightly annoyed. she grabs your jaw with her hand and turns your face towards her. she’s taking in a breath and you know exactly what she’s about to do.

when she pulls the cigarette away, she blows the smoke into your face and let’s go of your jaw.

“thanks for that,” you grunt, the smell always seems to calm you down for some odd reason.

“y’know, instead of ranting, you could go home and take a shower,” she looks sleepy as she holds onto her cigarette.

“i know. but she’s just so frustrating! wanna know what makes her even more frustrating?!”

annie decides to play along, she thinks you ranting is funny, “what?”

“she’s hot. scratch that, she’s literally gorgeous. she looks like a fucking goddess and has the personality of a witch,” you shout angrily, following annie’s movements of getting up and walking towards your dorm.

“i dunno,” she snickers, “she’s pretty nice to me.”

“yeah, cause she’s got some sort of vendetta against me. i swear—i have never done a single thing to her!! do you remember when she bashed our band?! does she even listen to punk?!”

annie’s made a mistake in encouraging you, “anyways. speaking of our band, don’t forget we’re playing tonight at eren’s house.”

“you mean at his frat house,” you snort, bumping your shoulder into her’s. you immediately regret it when you pull away and see pink glitter stick to her shirt and a shiver going down her spine.

“yeah, whatever. thank god he’s loaded enough to pay for a band. i can’t believe his dad just gives him and zeke cash,” annie coughs while she chuckles, smoke puffing out of her nose.

you’re laughing at her coughing, slapping her firmly on the back as you walk.

you don’t notice large blue eyes staring at you from far away.

————

you’re trying to ignore the idiotic comments annie’s making while mikasa does your eyeliner.

you, mikasa, annie, and—surprisngly—jean are getting ready for your show tonight.

originally, it had just been you, annie, and mikasa until mikasa and jean had started dating. she vouched that he could play the drums—and he definelty could. he also gets along surprisingly well with you and annie.

mikasa usually sings back-up for you—despite your begging for her to be the lead—and plays the electric keyboard.

annie’s on bass guitar. she gets stupidly smug everytime she’s done playing and the praise she gets from her girlfriend doesn’t help. annie also writes most of your songs.

“guys, we should make a bet,” annie’s twirling some of her hair, eyeing you and mikasa.

“what’s the bet,” jean smirks and raises a bushy brow. mikasa and you give a hum of approval.

“i bet that one girl is gonna be all over (name) tonight,” you snort sarcastically.

“elizabeth? i think she’s trying to seduce me so i’ll partner up with her for this project we have coming up in our music history class,” mikasa’s pullled away, screwing the cap of the eyeliner back onto the bottle. she hands you coal black lipstick.

“you know what i bet,” jean starts, you know it isn’t gonna be good, “historia’s gonna be eyefucking (name) all night.”

you’re in the middle of applying lipstick but you stop at his statement.

“no, before you say something, jean’s gotta point,” mikasa muses, fanning her hand.

“yeah. dunno how you didn’t noticed,” annie shrugs, hopping out of her chair and stretching her arms upwards.

you’re irritated and finished with your lipstick, eyebrows furrowed bitterly.

“anyways,” you grit your teeth, “it’s showtime.”

————

it’s been five minutes since you and the band performed, and after all that belting you just want a drink. you’re walking through the messy and huge kitchen, trying to avoid stepping on spilled shots and egg yolk—who knows—because these boots were expensive.

luckily, most people are partying like a mob in the main room of the smelly frat house. it smells like weed, everywhere. and when you open the fridge you see a long platter of chocolate brownies, is eren alright? you shrug internally, snatching a water bottle that’s sitting on the top shelf.

after you’ve closed the fridge door and opened it, you’re chugging the water bottle like your life depends on it. when you pull away, you try to not notice the lipstick stain and that you’ve drank the bottle more than halfway. you’re leaning on the island in the middle of the kitchen, you don’t plan on partying too much since you’re supposed to be the designated driver for annie, mikasa, and jean.

you’re about to take another swig of your water, eyes staring down at your phone and continuing to read a article. before you can bring the bottle to your lips, teasing laughter from your front is distracting you.

it’s historia, wearing a baby blue v-neck tank top that ends at her ribs. she has a white skirt on, pulled up to the middle of her bellybutton and stopping at her upper thighs. her shoes are white and chunky with sparkly blue butterflies on the sides of them. her makeup’s cute, a light blue sprinkling on the outside corners of her eyes that tickled her cheekbones, a light and natural (for her at least) pink lipstick on her lips coated with shiny gloss. she’s pretty.

“fuck do you want,” you frown with narrowed eyes, you’re praying there aren’t anymore tricks.

“nothing, nothing!,” she’s got a cheery smile on her face, “just wanted to see how you were doing! i cant even do that?”

rolling your eyes, you scoff, “not after you drenched me in ice cold water and then poured glitter on me. it took me two hours to get rid of the glitter in the shower.”

she’s opening her mouth, but you’re already done with her shit, “fuck off, dude.”

you’re stomping out of the kitchen, huffing with frustration. what the fuck was historia trying to play at? she’s such a cunt, pulling these mean pranks on you with no provocation and then coming up to you after and asking how you are?

you’re seething. you’re so angry you’re not even paying attention to where you’re going.

but it’s interrupted when you bump into someone’s back. lower... back.

said person, turns around and looks down at you. she’s tall, and you’ve seen her around campus with eren and zeke. she’s quiet and cunning, you’ve heard rumors that she gets paid to beat people up sometimes. you can’t really judge her, money’s money.

but she’s also gorgeous. glowing gold eyes and choppy blonde hair. she’s wearing a loose black blazer that closes at her sternum and down, with nothing underneath. she’s got some kind of necklace—you think it says ‘p’ or ‘z’—and pretty silver rings on her fingers. her heels make her tower over you more than she probably would without them on.

“shit, my bad,” you sigh and look away.

she shakes her head, the tiniest smile painting her face and her cheeks turn a little red.

“you’re alright,” she hums, “i don’t think i’ve met you. i’ve definitely seen you around, but no one’s ever given me a name.”

“oh, i’m (name),” you smile shyly, “i don’t know your name either.”

she chuckles a bit, somehow wrapping her hand in your’s and leading you to a nice loveseat. her nails are painted black and you feel inclined to put your legs over her lap.

“i’m surprised,” and that’s when you notice zeke and pieck on the couch next to you, “there are a lot of rumors about me. however, i guess whoever told you—or didn’t—left me anonymous. i’m yelena.”

you give a laugh, watching her throw her arm up onto the top of the couch. you’re cuddling her side within seconds, drawing a deep chuckle from her. her other hand reaches to your cheek, making you look up at her. she’s holding your chin with her thumb and staring at you with her hypnotizing eyes.

“you’re just the cutest,” she mumbles, letting go of your face and tapping your nose.

you’re getting embarrassed at the attention, and you don’t know what to say other than ‘thank you’. you’ve never been pussy whipped a day in your entire life, but you think you might change that.

she’s leaning in closer, ignoring the couple, who was staring at you two with amusement, that sat on the couch cuddling. you feel like you recognize them for a moment, but the thought it forgotten whenever yelena kisses you fervently.

she’s running her tongue across your lip and the shiver that goes down your spine makes you realize she has a tongue piercing. she’s pushing you down to lay on the couch, to which you happily oblige, her hand crawling up to your neck.

before you can even let her shove her tongue in your mouth and choke you, your hand is being tugged and all of a sudden your upper torso and body is on the floor and your head is aching. you’re dazedly looking at yelena, who’s just as surprised as you are, then turning to the couple on the couch.

holy fucking hell, how did you not realize that the couple was pieck and zeke. that isn’t even your main focus when another tug to your wrist pulls your lower half off the couch.

“what the fuck?!” you’re suddenly not dazed anymore, “let go of me!”

you’re snatching your arm away and scrambling to your feet, tugging down your short dress that rode up. you turn around to face the assaulter, only to look down and see historia.

historia grabbed you?!

before you can even scream or slap her, she’s, once again, pulling you away by your wrist. for such a small girl, she’s got a tight grip.

you’re stumbling as you follow her, not like you couldn’t, yelling profanities. you pass by annie, who spits out her drink at the sight of you, it startles her girlfriend, hitch. you mouth a ‘help!’ towards her just as you’re swung forward.

it takes you a second to balance yourself out, and before you can turn yourself around, you’re being shoved forward.

what the fuck is her deal?!

you’re pushed into a bathroom, finally turning around to see historia as you fall on your ass. she’s slammed the door closed and locked it, staring at you on the ground.

“the fuck is your damage,” you scream, leaning against the bathroom counter.

“you’re a fucking slut, that’s what!” she’s yelling back, now standing in front of you. her hands are trapping you against the counter, and you’re looking down at her.

“you’re a dirty little slut. you can’t help but get down with a woman when i’m not with you for five fucking minutes,” you can’t even open your mouth and opted to push yourself towards the counter more as you squeeze your thighs together.

“look at you,” she’s laughing mockingly, “you look like a dog in heat. are you enjoying this, you fucking whore?”

you whimper, shaking your head side-to-side.

“you’re a liar,” she’s laughing again, standing on her tip toes to brush her lips against your’s.

“i’m not.”

“if you’re not, go ahead and push me away then,” she smirks, leaning closer.

you look away, listening to the mocking giggle that she was releasing right in your face. her left hand is grabbing you by the jaw and forcing you to look at her.

“can i kiss you,” her look softens and you nod at her.

“yes,” and within a second, her lips are on your’s. the kiss is surprisingly gentle and sweet.

with a bit on your lip, her tongue is rubbing against your’s and her hands sliding under the thin straps of your dress. you’re whining when she pulls away and laughs. your dress is halfway down your body, chest jumping up and down as you pant from the lack of breath.

“look at you, baby,” she turns your head to the side, which gives you a profile view of yourself in the mirror. your lipstick’s smudged in the corner of your mouth, eyeliner’s smuged as well as your eyeshadow.

weak product.

“you need better makeup,” she’s giggling as she leans her head towards your neck.

she’s kissing and sucking almost everywhere on your neck and chest, as if she were marking her property. moans are bouncing off the walls as her hands release your boobs from the strapless bra you’re wearing and sucking on your nipples. honestly, you’re glad it’s off. it’s been tiring having to pull it up everytime it slipped even just a bit.

you tug at her blonde hair when her small hand gropes one tit and her mouth bites at the other. she’s tugging the rest of your dress down with her free hand, and it pools around your boots. she goes back up to kiss your lips, laughing in your mouth as you struggle to kick off your boots. she’s kissing at your cheek and ear, tugging at the waistline of your fishnet tights.

“might wanna take these off too if you don’t want them ripped,” yelping when she bites at your earlobe.

“i...,” you’re catching your breath, “need help.”

she giggles while nodding, helping you shimmying the tights down to your knees.

“jump up on the counter, babe. it’ll make it easier for me,” you’re obident and jumping on the cool bathroom counter, it makes you shiver.

historia’s on her knees, shoes kicked off, and her fingers tickle your legs when she’s sliding the tights off your legs. she’s got a sultry look on her face when she throws said tights over her shoulder, palming your kneecaps. she bites back her smirk when she pulls your knees apart, showing off your black panties. you fall back against the mirror and you lean mostly on your elbows, ignoring the loud bang that came from it.

her mouth’s leaving open mouthed kisses against your inner thighs, pants leaving your mouth. her fingers hook around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down quickly whenever you lift your hips.

your going to close your legs, but her hands prevent you from doing so. her eyes are glued to your pussy, lips spread open and your wetness shining in the light. you’ve got a little hair on your pubis, but that isn’t going to stop historia reiss from changing her name to sasha braus.

she’s sucking at your clit and spreading your legs apart as far as she can. she pulls away from your pussy just for a second.

“keep your legs open,” she says, a thumb rubbing circles into your clit.

it’s lazy and it’s satisfying, but it’s not enough to make you cum. she knows that.

you’re letting out high pitched moans and fingers tangled in her golden locks as she eats you out like a man starved.

‘i wish i had realized that i’m gay sooner,’ you think as historia slowly slides her middle finger inside of you.

you’re throwing your head back against the mirror when she suddenly adds a second finger, claiming that you could take it since you’re a slut.

considering your wetness is dripping down your ass and onto the counter, you can’t really object the statement.

she’s curling her fingers inside you, mouth closed around your clit. your moans go up an octave when she finds the spongy part inside of you, thrusting her fingers in and out of you after she angles her digits.

“fuck!” you moan and start clawing at historia’s free arm, which is holding down your hips.

“h-historia...,” you pant, “gonna cum... pl..please let me cum.”

her laughter sends vibrations across your clit, and that’s what sends you over the edge. you’re crying out as historia helps you ride out your orgasm by slowing her fingers down and pulling away from your clit. historia’s admiring you while she wipes off your juices from her chin, a small smile adorning her lips.

your head is thrown back against the mirror—once again. eyes rolled back and mouth opened in a silent moan. the hand that was gripping at her arm is clenched in a fist that has your knuckles painted white. your toes are curled and your back is arching in the air.

she doesn’t pull her fingers out of you until your calm, letting you catch your breath before she does it all over again.

———

your legs are trembling as she helps you sit down on the toilet.

you know you look like a mess—historia’s been forcing you to watch yourself. the eyeliner and mascara you have on is now smeared and ran down your face since you cried. your lipstick is smeared up and down, worse than last time, and your hair is messed up and tangled from historia pulling on it.

historia’s squatting before you, looking for a rag to wet down and clean you up with.

“next cabinet over,” you breath, throwing your head back.

“you know who’s bathroom this is?”

“yeah, jean’s in this frat too. him and marco share it. this place is pretty nice when there isn’t a party going on,” you giggle, somehow this whole situation seems funny to you.

she’s running hot water over the rag she now has, staring at herself in the mirror. historia’s got hickeys on her neck too and teeth marks on shoulders. she’s got glittery blue on her cheek, must be her mascara.

she turns off the water and wrings it out. she walks over to you, nudging your legs open with her knee. you comply and absentmindedly reach for one of her hands to hold. she takes the offer, squatting in front of you and cleaning up the slightly dried cum and juices on your thighs and vagina.

you shiver and let out little whines and whimpers, still sensitive from the previous orgasms. historia was also still wearing something. something that you didn’t even know she had.

a fucking 6 inch strap on.

“by the way,” you start, “how’d you get your strap-on here?”

“i came to the house before eren started throwing the party. i brought a bag with me and just hid it in the empty cabinet. i think eren wanted to hook up with me and mentioned something about pegging. brought it in case,” she explains, small smile spreading across her face as she starts cleaning your face.

you start giggling again, the hand that wasn’t holding her hand weakly grabbing at her wrist.

“hisu... can i get a kiss,” you pucker your lips when she pulls away the rag from you. she flips the rag to a clean slide, rubbing herself in the same areas as she did for you.

historia holds your cheek and gives you the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had.

“i’m gonna take you back to mine and ymir’s place. you’re still in sub-space and you wobble instead of walk,” she says, squatting down again to help you get your panties on.

she’s able to get your dress on the lower half of your body, but you both realize there’s a fucking cum stain on the chest. historia gives you a jacket that was in her bag, zipping it halfway. the dress stayed sitting at your waist, you’re to tired to get it open even if you have a cover up.

she’s done cleaning everything up within ten minutes, including herself. she throws the rag in a hamper in the bathroom closet that had jean’s name written on it in sharpie.

she’s slipping the bag on her shoulder and helping you walk with the other one. when you walk out, ymir is leaning on the wall by the door with a smirk.

ymir squats down a bit, laughing at your shaky legs every time you took a step. historia and her manage to get you on ymir’s back. you fall asleep before you three can get to the car.

———

when you wake up, your whole lower body is sore. your eyelids feel heavy as you open them, coming to your senses. you recognize ‘dance moms’ playing in the background and historia eating cereal as she watches.

you groan lowly, and historia finally notices your consciousness.

“so...,” you yawn while you stretch your arms up into the air, “talk about last night?”

historia nods while she chews, “so basically, i was jealous that you were hooking up with another girl that wasn’t me.”

“but why would you be jealous...? i thought you hated me,” you rub your cheek against the pillow you’re laying your head on.

historia blushes as she looks away with a pout, “i never hated you... i just... i didn’t like the feelings i have for you.”

“oh,” you lay on your back and ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks, “what are.... the feelings..?”

“i may or may not love you,” she hides her face by holding her bowl full of cereal to her chin.

you don’t say anything for a few moments, trying to think of what you wanted to say.

“i... i love you too. but, that doesn’t just mean i forgive and forget all the horrible shit you’ve done to me. i’ll start dating you when i feel that you’ve... ‘atoned’ for your sins,” you sigh, “it’s gonna take some time but if you want this to work or even start, you’ve gotta make it up to me and understand where i’m coming from.”

she looks at you with slight excitement, “i... of course! i was really mean to you and you didn’t deserve that, no matter how much i disliked you. i promise to make it up to you.”

she’s holding her pinky finger up to you.

you smile and link your pinkies with her’s, “promise.”

[slightlyunconventional]

alr um. ka/z snz hcs go

word of warning they kinda suck? because im just, idk i waffle

- i think he definitely has spring allergies like hayfever yk (definitely not inspired by One Single Line from the book)

- also wy/lan has hayfever like him but there is a difference., wy/lan takes meds for it because he's sensible and it makes it sm better for him

but k/az doesn't . because for some reason medication just makes it worse for him; he gets SO MUCH sneezier and he hates it. a lot. but sometimes it's cute

- dust allergy

yeah im like such an allergyfcker what abt it it's hot alright

i think k/az would just be so sensitive to dust and it's the one time he can't stifle/hold back properly because it's SO itchy like hello 👀

this is why he's never the one doing all the sneaking around in heists because he literally cannot

i had a stupid little scenario in my head about this it's very stupid so bear with me

so in the crows' headquarters or whatever we pretend they have a library; nothing too grand just a nice (very dusty) library with some fairly relevant books

and imagine k/az goes one day after a certain book to read cause he's bored so he goes and looks for it but he can't find it (definitely not because jes/per took it and hid it just to see k/az lose his dignity c o m p l e t e l y

so k/az is like . where is my book. and starts to minorly panic because every ounce of dignity he ever had is about to go out of the window in less than a minute bc that dust is well and truly in his system and its gonna take a lot to get it out-

so in conclusion he ends up snzing the rest of the evening throwing everyone glares that really have no impact because his entire face is a complete mess like red nose eyes watering still sniffling and like,,, so SO sensitive still it's unbelievable. he can barely hold eye contact for two seconds before he's hitching again

ok what. that scenario was a whole lot of waffle . i tried ok im tired u can let ur brains fix it

anyway continuing with hcs

- he stifles pretty much every time when he can: yk gotta keep up that cool controlled demeanor right ;)

- when he doesn't manage to stifle or hold back the sounds of the snz varies, but it's usually mid-volume and fairly vocal kind of like

"ihHk'tCHUH! ..ehihH--hK'SHUHh!"

- however if he's particularly deep in a fit, as it progresses it just kind of?? tires him out ???? so they get softer and inherently cuter in some's eyes; more of a

"h-huh'isHhu! iht'sHuh!"

- definitely muffles into his coat collar,, like that material is just so thick and welcoming who wouldn't want to

- i can see him being germophobic to an extent and gets kinda panicky when he's ill, but he knows in/ej and jes/per are always there to support <333333

- much to his dismay of course he seems to get a nasty cold every winter. always so messy and sneezy he can't keep it together

following on from that the rest of the crows definitely make bets as to when he'll FINALLY show any sign of being sick over winter

he'd come down the stairs on a snowy december morning just a few minutes later than he usually would, and in/ej can just tell by his face that it's gonna be a bad day so she just sighs and says "go back to bed"

why do i suck at writing these

- in reference to the first hc + a post i made recently he's very very sensitive to especially roses,, they make him so itchy and hitchy do not eveN

- how about with regards to just random sneezes like

not caused by anything just Happen yk

i say he sneezes in triples because that's nice

- also sometimes he stumbles a bit when he sneezes bc bad leg and all that

- oh also how i mentioned how he muffles into his collar well sometimes he doesn't right so

when he tries to hold back which is like every time, but he fails,, 9 times out of 10 he doesn't have the time to duck down and clamp his collar around his face so there's a brief moment of panic before he just has to sneeze loosely into a lifted elbow like--

"ihh-hihh..-ehHK'TSCHH!"

usually by this point it's pretty rough and sometimes messy. knocks the wind out of him for sure

- if anyone notices him so desperately trying to hold back it's just a sigh and a click of the fingers in front of his face to break his concentration, slack features and watering eyes immediately snapping forward with a likely violent sneeze absolutely ripping through him

of course that usually earns him a few snorts from around the room, possibly a sigh and shake of the head from his wraith ;)

aaaaaanyway it's getting late and that's all i can think of rn. bye byeeee

[ceasarslegion]

One of the little details i love in the Mandalorian is what happens with Boba Fett

The first time we see that armor again, it's on Tatooine with Cobb Vanth, who found it in the same sarlacc pit that vored our main man back in the 80s:

You kinda just assume Boba's dead, right? Din takes it back in exchange for dealing with their sandworm problem because of the sacrilege of a non-Mando wearing Mando armor and goes on his merry way. But there's a bit of dramatic irony mixed with a red herring for the audience because we were all in the know and yelling at our TV like "no, he's DEAD! You're not gonna FIND the owner!!" And we don't really see it again until we get to chapter 14, when a heavily-scarred Boba Fett comes to collect, and makes all of us watching spill coffee in our laps:

He protecc

He attacc

But most importantly,

He wan his armor bacc

Anyway, I think this character resurrection was fucking brilliant. "But Dames, don't you hate the character resurrection trope?" Yeah, because no one seems to know how to make it believable. But this one succeeds very well in my opinion, mostly because of how little we actually know about Boba Fett.

Think of him in the original trilogy. How many lines did he have, again? So how much about him does the main source material actually give you?

If you base it on the movies and his re-introduction scene alone because I'm gonna assume the vast majority of Star Wars fandom doesn't read the 50 billion EU novels, you would know that Boba Fett:

-is a bounty hunter

-is such a good bounty hunter that Vader hired him as his personal errand boy and went so far as to trust him and him alone to get the Han Solo job done

-was raised by Jango Fett, a man who was so good at what he did that he was contracted to donate his genetic code for a personal super-soldier army

-that he's also a clone of his father, and thus shares those skills if we go by in-universe logic

-doesn't actually follow a Mandalorian creed despite being ethnically Mandalorian, he just does what he's paid to do and doesn't ask questions or get caught up in moral qualms

-And... cool armor, I guess??

That's about all you'll get. Trying to discern any more about him from the movies alone will be like squeezing blood from a stone.

He's such a mysterious character, and that's what makes him so interesting. The wider fandom likes to joke about how the only reason there's so much Mandalorian lore now is because Boba's armor looked cool, but I'd actually argue it was the mystery behind the armor that made him so interesting from the beginning. In Star Wars, you KNOW character motivations. They always make it very clear where everyone stands, what side they're on, etc, but not Boba Fett. He was always the odd one out. Probably not intentional on Lucas's part because again, I'll never believe he's that smart, but that mistake served to make one of the most narratively interesting characters precisely because of how little we know about him and his motivations.

Which is what makes his character resurrection so much more believable and hitting than P*lpatine's. We don't know how much Boba Fett's capable of, because even his "death" was a freak accident that wasn't reflective of his skill. It's totally within the realm of possibility to us that he somehow managed to claw his way out of a sarlacc pit because we don't even know what his limits are, they've never been showed to us. So it just makes him that much more interesting that HE was the one who managed to survive and come looking for his armor, and totally lay out some stormtroopers in the process. ("I was aiming for the other one" is one of my favourite lines in this show lmfao)

TL;DR: Boba Fett's reappearance succeeds and feels natural because of how little we know about him, which is sometimes the best route to take with a character

Side note: I also really like the visual metaphors in his next appearance, when his armor's been fully restored:

It's a little visual detail that I didn't really think about my first watch, but the new polished coat of paint really makes him look as refreshed as his character feels now.

Man, The Book of Boba Fett better be good if not I will still watch it

[hostess-of-horror]

Danse Macabre

Finally! After so many days of writing, I have finally finished my biggest fanfic yet! It's another Phantom x Peach fanfic and it is a bit of a sequel to my previous one "Encore at Midnight". I had this really cool story concept for a little while and I felt like I just could not do anything else unless I write it down. It was a bit of an experiment since I had to do a little bit of research just to pull some things off (however, it is far from perfect, so please forgive me). Also, I have officially made some OCs for this fanfic, yay! Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy what I have created!

Number of Pages: 17

Word Count: 9358

[Content includes: Themes of Death/Mortality and Some Suggestiveness (not smut though!), OC “Death”, Graphic Body Horror, and Slight Profanity]

For @salamifuposey, @kindpopstar, @jawaii-chan, and everyone else who wants to read this fanfic!

____________________________________________________________

My Dearest Princess,

Forgive my absence these past few days. I have been preparing the final touches in my newest masterpiece, and I have been dying to show you what I have created. It is something I have not done before; consider it an experiment of sorts. My excitement cannot be contained any longer! Tonight, I invite you to a performance unlike anything you have seen before. I have arranged a carriage to arrive at your castle at around midnight. It will take you to Spooky Trails, where I have made refuge, and you will be accompanied along the way. She will be your guide, and I assure you she will not lead you astray. I pray you receive this letter and that you accept the invitation.

Your Humble Host,

P

---

Princess Peach reads and rereads the letter. So many questions run through her mind. What does he mean by “experiment”? What kind of performance will this be? And who is this guide? She looks up from the letter, and across from her is an unfamiliar face. Sitting across from her is a woman looking out of the carriage window, admiring the night sky. Or, at least it seems like she is, for the bright reflection on her tea shades completely covered her eyes. Her guide is abnormally slender and taller than her, however she could not tell exactly how much. Her alabaster skin pops in contrast of her dark attire, which consists of a frilly ivory blouse and high-low trail skirt, a velvet violet corset, leather pants, and a long onyx black coat embellished with jewels. Her frizzy, unkept silver hair is pulled up into two buns with small strands of hair shimmering like a diamond. Peach had never seen anyone quite like her before; it’s like she came from another world entirely. The guide turns her attention from the view towards Peach and smiles. Peach averts her eyes and looks towards the window – it was rude to stare, especially at a stranger. “So, you must be the one my master has been interested in all this time? He has told me so much about you.”, the guide spoke. Peach brings her attention back towards the guide. “I am, miss.”, she responds, “And, he has?”

“Oh yes! He is simply infatuated with you! I dare say, obsessed, even. And now that I have a chance to see you up close, I can definitely see why.”

“Infatuated is a good word to describe him. He has shown his affection quite often since our first reunion.”

“Has he now?”

“Mm-hmm. He’s been nothing but a gentleman towards me, even if he does get pretty… excitable from time to time.”

“Consider yourself lucky, your highness. Having an enthusiastic partner makes the relationship a lot more interesting!”

“Well, yes, I agree… I- um…”

“Is there something wrong?”

“Phantom and I have only met a little while now; almost a month I believe. I’m not sure if I want to start referring to him as my partner.”

“Just yet, you mean?”

“Oh, please don’t get me wrong, I do like him! I just like to… take things a little slow.”

“Ah, I see. I completely understand. You want to get to know him a little bit more before you make any decisions. A rather smart move on your part.”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t tell anyone this, but my master isn’t one to do such a thing. That is not to say he’s completely reckless, but whenever there’s something – or someone – he’s interested in, he becomes determined. Stubborn even. And personally, it is not his best quality sometimes. It makes him look like a moron. A blind one at that.”

“I guess you can say he becomes inspired. Phantom is an artist, after all. Art is meant to invoke emotion, no matter the medium. It would make sense that he himself is the same way.”

“Insightful! And right you are.”

“Not to mention, Phantom is an opera singer. Opera, of course, is highly emotional and very dramatic, and so is he.”

“That too. I know this might be a personal question, but your first reunion with my master…”

“Yes?”

“What happened that night? I ask because I remember seeing him wallowing in shame after his trip over to the Mushroom Kingdom. When he returned, he threw himself onto his fainting couch, murmuring curses, almost about to cry.”

“Oh my! Well, Phantom was in the ballroom inside my castle that night. He was singing this beautiful melody. When I found him, we talked for a bit and discovered we both have something in common.”

“And what would that be?”

“Companionship.”

“Ah…”

“As we talked, he told me about his life after that battle at Spooky Trails a few years ago. He was so lonely, unable to find friends to call his own. Soon he became… anxious. I cannot describe exactly what came over him, but it was obvious he was in pain. Then, his eyes turned red, and suddenly darkness. I fainted.”

The guide stares at Peach, her mouth slightly agape. Although her tea shades cover her eyes, her expression is readable. It is a look of shock – that look of knowing exactly what had just happened with Phantom on that very night. She sighs, “I see. That is not the first time he has done that. My master can be terrifying when he has his moments.”

“Everything was just so overwhelming. I was scared, yes, but afterwards I was more concerned of his well-being. I cannot bear to see someone in pain; being alone can take a toll on anyone… Oh, that poor thing! He must’ve thought that he harmed me when I fainted!” Peach exclaimed. Silence takes over the conversation. Peach’s eyes wander towards the carriage floor while the guide’s attention never breaks. Her eyebrows furrowed, Peach fidgets with her gloves. The guide adjusts her position, leaning over towards the worried princess. She reaches out and holds her hand; Peach stops fidgeting. “I’m glad that you care about him, your highness. Very few do.” she gently smiles, “There have been many times I believed that the only people who care about him is me and the others.”

“The others?”, Peach asks.

“The rest of my master’s theatre troupe. Just like him, we are all one with music.”

“…may I ask what is your name?

“My name? Oh-! my name, how could I forget my manners? How rude of me! I am Dolores, your highness.”

“And if I may ask as well, if you don’t mind, where do you come from?”

Before Dolores has a chance to answer, a flash of shadows sped by the carriage. Dolores motions towards the window, her head peeking out, looking over the view. Her pearl white teeth shows as she grins from ear to ear. “We’re almost there! Ah, soon you will experience the greatest show yet, Princess Peach!”, she exclaims with glee. Peach takes a look at her window. Memories flooded her mind like a rushing river coursing through the barren earth. Spooky Trails.She remembers now; it was all coming back to her. This was all leading to the very location where her battle with Phantom took place. She, alongside Mario, Luigi, and a few Rabbids, witnessed Phantom’s creation and fought him as he flaunted about on the old, decrepit stage. To think, he was an almost entirely different person. Phantom wasn’t as gentlemanly as he is as of recently, but since their first reunion, he has been wanting things to change.

He wants her. Her heart. Her soul. Her beauty. Everything.

To think it has come to this. To think the princess, who has been known for being saved by her plumber in shining armor and being in love with him, would fall for such a character. But has she truly fallen for Phantom? Or is it all just nonsense? If it was just nonsense, then why would she accept the invitation? Peach takes in the environment as the carriage rolls across the cobblestone path, driving through the dead trees and the old, seemingly abandoned village. Despite having never returned after the battle, Peach regains her memories of Spooky Trails, almost to the point of knowing exactly where Phantom resides. Dolores returns to her position, her shining grin still on her face. Peach turns her attention back at Dolores and asks, “What was the inspiration behind this performance?”

“I would tell you, but it would ruin the surprise! My master has ordered all of us to never reveal his masterpiece until it is time.” Dolores answers.

“Oh…”

“All I can say is that this is no ordinary performance. My master is quite the visionary, you know!”

“Very well, then. I won’t ask any more questions, if it’s going to ruin the surprise.”

“Are you excited, your highness?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not often that I get invited to such events.”

“Really? But you’re royalty! I thought you would be invited to all sorts of performances.”

“I do, but it just doesn’t happen that often, and I honestly don’t know why. I adore the theater!”

“We all do too. Our lifestyle is nothing but the theater… quite literally!”

“Gosh, that must be so wonderful, to be part of a theatre troupe. To perform for all to see, to entertain others through amazing plays! I’ve always wished to join when I was a little girl.”

“Oh! Would you look at that! We’ve finally arrived!”

After what it seemed like more than an hour, the carriage, at long last, finally stops. Dolores gets up from her seat, slowly crawling her way out of the carriage. Her elongated body almost struggles through the small door, but she succeeds with grace. She then offers her hand to Peach with a softer smile, “Your midnight show awaits, Princess Peach…” Taking Dolores’ hand, Peach steps out of the carriage and immediately she is greeted by a massive silver gate. The very gate that stands guard the entrance to Phantom’s stage. It is beautifully sculpted, shaped into swirls and patterns holding up an illuminating full moon, with two music notes placed on each side as the borders. Yes, Peach remembers now. Dolores walks up to the gate and peers through it. She waves at something or something – Peach could not tell – and opens it, allowing themselves to enter. Peach follows behind. She didn’t know how tall Dolores was when they were in the carriage, but now she could get a good look at her stature. Dolores was tall – taller than any human she has ever seen before. If Peach could guess, her guide was three to four (maybe five!)feet taller than her and was practically towering over her. Ever since they met, she had this feeling of uneasiness. Who is this woman? What is this woman? Where did she come from? So many questions. There was something off about Dolores, and it wasn’t necessarily her abnormal physique. There was something, but Peach couldn’t put her finger on it. Whatever it was…. Perhaps she doesn’t need to worry too much about it.

Approaching the decrepit stage, the two ladies are met by a small man wielding a large, glowing lantern. This man is the opposite of Dolores in terms of height and physique. He is a short and stout dwarf, donning a regal yellow robe over his slightly mismatched clothes. The light emanating from the lantern reveals his nicely trimmed beard, his long, curly chocolate brown hair tied back into a ponytail, his fluorescent amber eyes giving them a warm welcome. His smile grew bigger once Dolores waves again; he waves back. “Dolores, there you are! And you brought our special guest! Wunderbar! It is a pleasure to meet you, eure hoheit.”, the dwarf greets them, bowing in courtesy. “Are the others ready, Stefan?”, Dolores asks.

“We’ve been ready for a while now. Just making sure everything is perfect for tonight.”

“And what about our master?”

“He will not show his face. In fact, he wants me to tell you that no one must see him until he has shown himself to us all.”

“Ah, well that makes things interesting.”

“I agree. Anyway, enough chit chat! Let us proceed! We must not keep our master’s little freundin waiting.”

“Por favor, Stefan! Don’t tease… that’s my job.”

Stefan chuckles as he ushers them to go into the stage. Dolores follows Stefan, and Peach follows Dolores. They all walk deeper through the torn platform and dusty curtains. Damaged props, broken wires, hanging ropes, and mangy fabrics scatter the place. The further deeper they went, the larger the backstage seems to be. Peach looks in awe as she continues to follow her guides. Who knew that this abandoned stage held such secrets? After a few minutes of walking, Stefan places his lantern on the floor, lighting up the entire floor, and begins to crawl on his hands and knees. His fingers trace the nooks and crannies of the floorboards, mumbling to himself. He searches until he finds a small hole and grabs it. The hole turns out to be a handle, and Stefan pulls and lifts up the floorboards. He reveals a decent sized door leading to a much darker pathway – a long stone stairway stretching far into a secret tunnel. Stefan’s lantern gave light to the darkness, making the trip down into the underground refuge much less intimidating. Dolores holds Peach’s hand as they go down the stairs. This was such an odd way of attending a performance. Peach could not imagine what kind of performance involves having to venture underground in order to see it. What could she possibly expect from all of this? Part of her mind began screaming for help, pleading to go back to the Mushroom Kingdom. Part of her mind wanted normalcy, no surprises. It wanted her to stop and return to her chamber, to her castle, to Mario and her friends. However, the other part was curious. It was that familiar curiosity – the same curiosity she had when first reunited with Phantom. She could never forget that night. Never in a lifetime. Everything about him, whether it be music or shadow, is just so…. Alluring.

Alluring… Beguiling… Captivating… Enchanting…

Her mind finally gives in. She goes for the latter. How could she not? She has ventured too deep into this tunnel to start leaving. For once, she is able to take a break from her royal duties. To forget her troubles. To finally experience something new. For once. As for curiosity, she was more concerned about Phantom. Why would he not allow anyone to see him? Of course, it must be for the performance, but what exactly does Phantom have in store? The more Peach thought about him, the more impatient she became. Phantom. Oh, where are you, Phantom? Her mind falls into that familiar trance. She wants to see him again. She wants to hear him again. Perhaps Peach has become just as obsessed as he is with her. This must be an addiction. It must be. If it wasn’t, then she would never be where she is right now. Whether it be curiosity, obsession, or madness, Peach will continue to walk into shadow if it meant she will meet her friend again. Stefan, Dolores, and Peach finally reach the end of the tunnel, finding a wooden door decorated with gold etchings, which looked out of place amongst the cobweb-shrouded stone walls. With a strong push, Stefan enters through, allowing the door to creak wide open. Behind the door is a humongous hallway, adorned from wall to wall with a vast multitude of paintings, flyers and posters of plays and musicals, candles, and curtains. To think a dusty tunnel would lead to a beautiful makeshift palace! It’s like discovering a treasure chest inside of a dank, murky swamp. Is this where Phantom was residing all these years? Peach gasps. Dolores turns around and smiles, “Welcome to our humble abode, your highness. In this place, music is our lifeforce. We eat, we drink, we breathe, we sleep in music. Just like our master, we are not only creators of art – we are art itself. And tonight, we shall once again breathe life into another masterpiece. I cannot describe how immensely happy we all are. We are so glad that you accepted our master’s invitation, you will not regret it! Now, come along with me, let us go into the Ladies’ Dressing Room. Natasha has designed a wonderful costume for you to wear, and Ophelia will help you with your hair and makeup. I assure you they will make you absolutely gorgeous. Of course, that is not to say you’re not already beautiful.”

Stefan leaves the two ladies and heads towards the Gentlemen’s Dressing Room, which is across from the Ladies’ Dressing Room to the left, placing the lantern onto an iron hook built into the wall. “Well, I’m going to get myself ready and meet up with the others. I’ll see you all at the Gallery! Bis bald!”, he says as he closes the door. Dolores enters through the door to the right and holds it open for Peach to walk into the room. There sitting inside are twin sisters, both garbed in fine, flowy silk and chiffon gowns, working on their latest projects. To the left is a somber young lady sitting near a vanity, dressed all in Aegean and periwinkle blue, her pale pink hair intertwined into exquisite dreadlocks that reaches down to her shoulders. Wrapped around her head is a flower crown composed of lavender, Baby’s Breath, Fairy Foxgloves, and Forget-Me-Nots. To the right is a cheery young lady wearing a similar gown but in shades of fuchsia and rose, checking over the details of an extravagant costume, which is porcelain and peach in color. Her pale blue hair is also made of dreadlocks, as well as composed with the same flowers with the addition of small vines, but is pinned up into a lovely cornrow braided bun. The twin in pink looks up from her work and gasps, “Dolores, you’re back! And the princess is here! Ophelia, look! They’re here!” Ophelia turns around, her saddened expression softening into a weak smile, “Oh, hello again. And it’s nice to finally meet you, your highness.”

Dolores greets them back, turning her attention back to Natasha’s project, “Is the costume ready?”

“Yes, it is! I was just making sure everything’s perfect!”

“It looks amazing! Buen Trabajo!”

“Aww, thank you!”

“Alright, now we must hurry. I need to be in costume. I’ll meet you all in the Gallery, and don’t dottle please.”

“Don’t worry, Dolores, we’ll be ready as soon as possible.”

Dolores leaves Peach with Natasha and Ophelia, entering through a darkened room to get ready for the performance. Once she leaves, Peach witnesses what is perhaps the most amazing thing she has ever seen. The speed in which Natasha and Ophelia got her ready for the performance was astounding. What should have lasted for about a few hours or so ended up lasted for a few mere minutes! No human possesses this level of speed, especially with makeup. Any makeup artist would take their time getting every detail right. There would be no possible way anyone could apply eyeshadow, eyeliner, blush, concealer, lipstick, and every other detail really fast without messing up. But Ophelia proved that such an ability was possible. Natasha was no different. She helped Peach get into the extravagant costume without any struggle at all, as it fit perfectly onto her frame. How did she get her size just right? And it’s so comfortable too! “And… done! Oh, look at you! You are just beautiful, your highness! Don’t you think so, Ophelia?”, Natasha exclaims happily, proud of her job well done. “Oh yes, I agree…”, Ophelia smiles weakly again. Peach looks over to a nearby mirror. They were right; she is beautiful. Perhaps even more so, she thinks to herself, for she had never worn anything like this before. It is true that, being of royal blood, she is accustomed to an extremely elaborate (and expensive) wardrobe. But this… this is different from any other dress. It is a ballroom gown, completely encrusted with diamonds and pearls, with lovely black roses making a long trail from her waist down to the skirt. The white skirt is massive, flowing down towards the floor like a mass of billowing fog. Her shoulders and bosom are exposed completely, giving room for a glistening choker made of the same jewels. Her hair is done up in a high bun, lightly sprinkled with silver glitter, and tied together with another black rose.

She looks heavenly. Like an angel.

With everything all set and done, Natasha and Dolores begin preparing themselves. As they do, Ophelia pauses for a moment. “Oh, your highness! I almost forgot something. Before we go, our master wanted me to give you this.”, Ophelia says, handing her a small card. It reads: For the Princess. Before heading back to primp herself, her expression slowly turns gloomy, barely keeping up with her smile, “You are so lucky to be chosen…” Peach turns over the card as she waits for the twins to get ready and continues to read:

Tonight’s performance is a one-of-a-kind experience. You, my dear, will not only be the audience, but also part of the story! Everything and everyone around you will be interactive, so please do not be shy. Converse with your newly found friends! Eat, drink, dance with your heart’s content! And please, do not wait for me. I hope you enjoy my masterpiece.

- P

Ah ha! So, this is what Phantom’s performance is! It is a role-playing experience, and based on what the card says, it must be a party he’s hosting. What delightful news! Although, Peach must admit that she has never role-played before, especially in something like this. But wait – didn’t she say to Dolores earlier that being part of the theatre was her childhood dream? Perhaps this is the perfect opportunity to try out her acting skills! Peach beams. She could not believe Phantom would make something like this. Whatever this role-playing party entails, she thinks to herself, she’s going to do the best she can. “We’re ready!” Natasha exclaims in a sing-song tone, “Are you ready, Ophelia?” Ophelia nods. Natasha excitedly takes both her and Peach’s hands, leading them out of the Ladies’ Dressing Room and into the Gallery. Peach almost could not keep up with the twins, for they have remarkable speed, as shown by their natural talents on makeup and costuming. How fast can could they possible go? If this is how fast they can walk, then how fast can they run? Natasha’s ecstatic giggling echoes through the hallway, and with every step they take, the upbeat tempo of music could be heard from behind the Gallery doors. The closer they went, the louder it became. The melody drifts in the air like a calm perfume for the ears, capturing Peach’s attention with its harmonious essence. A delicious delicacy for the senses. Just like Phantom’s voice. He must have composed this melody, for there is no way Peach could have been so immersed and entranced by its sound if it wasn’t. The three ladies approach the Gallery doors, the music muffled behind them. Natasha takes a glance back at Peach and Ophelia, unable to contain her excitement anymore.

She pushes the doors wide open.

What words could possibly describe the sheer extravagance of the Gallery? To think that all of this is completely underground! To think Phantom created this gargantuan chamber, big enough for him and perhaps one hundred guests! Maybe even more than that. Peach could tell, just by admiring the Gallery, Phantom is quite the fan of marble, silver, and velvet. Marble floors and pillars framing the chamber and silver-framed mirrors and portraits decorate the walls. Deep black velvet curtains cascade from the middle of the ceiling and down towards the floor, giving the appearance of one massive Bohemian tent. In the middle hangs a glamourous jeweled chandelier, giving a dim light to the darkness. Looking around, Peach notices there are seven rooms divided by the curtains, each one color-coded, with three rooms on both towards the left and right. To the left are the colors blue, purple, and green, and to the right are orange, white, and violet. The seventh room is located right in front of the ladies, right across from the Gallery entrance. Inside is completely shrouded in shades of red – wine, scarlet, crimson, garnet – and there sits in a shiny throne a crowned gentleman – a prince – with a glass of Amontillado in his hand. His wavy, champagne blonde hair falls delicately around his party mask and square facial structure. His rosy lips gently purse as he raises his glass to drink. He is accompanied by two other women, who are garbed to the nines in the richest finery, blushing and laughing amongst themselves. Every now and then, the prince would turn to one of them and whisper in their ear, making their faces turn into deeper shades of red. As Peach follows Natasha and Ophelia, she finds more guests, all conversing amongst one another in the color-coded rooms. The costumes they wear are vibrant in color and theme, ranging from jesters, to creatures, to knights, to fairies and pixies. These guests, including the prince himself, must all be part of Phantom’s theatre troupe. Peach begins to count: one… two… four… six… nine… eleven. Eleven members of the troupe. She wonders if there are any more, considering how large the Gallery is.

The prince turns his attention suddenly towards Peach, and so do the two women. Soon, almost everyone begins to stop for a moment and do the same. Simultaneously, Natasha and Ophelia bow, gesturing to Peach, “My Lord, we have brought you your special guest, Princess Morrigan of the Stygian Border.” The prince sets down his glass on a nearby silver platter, and stands right up from his throne, adjusting his vest and coat. “C’est magnifique, my loyal subjects! Now the masquerade can truly begin! Come, come! The night is young, gather around everyone! Let us celebrate all of our blessings and forget our grievances!” he declared, “May we prosper in these trying times, and may we never run out of wine to drink.” The crowd laughs and cheers, some of them raising their own glasses. He turns to Peach, his eyes wandering up and down, and smirks, “My, my… Enchantee, your highness. I must say, you look… ravishing tonight. I am Prince Fortunato, at your service. Why don’t you join me, my dear, in the Red Room? Surely, we can have some… fun together, what do you say?” Greeting her, Prince Fortunato places a soft kiss on her hand, his emerald eyes admiring her beauty. Or perhaps something else. Although Peach has to be polite, she immediately had no interest in him. Too cocky, she thinks to herself, too full of himself. It reminds her too much of Bowser. Then again, Phantom was that way, too, at least in the past. But she learned that he was not licentious. He never looked anywhere else but into her eyes. He never searched for anything other than her eyes. He ever seemed like he was after a particular goal other than seeing her whenever they meet. That is the one thing Peach was sure about. Ah, but remember! This is only roleplay; nothing is real. Prince Fortunato, as well as everyone else, is only pretending. In that case, this gentleman is an excellent actor!

Prince Fortunato leads Peach back to his throne, the two women still standing to accompany him. Envy fills the air. Their expressions turn sour as they watch Peach get even more attention than them. Peach could already tell that this is no ordinary masquerade. She has been to many royal revelries throughout her life, and all of them were filled to the brim with sophistication. Every guest, staff member, and host had class – anything that was considered less than classy wasn’t allowed. This masquerade is different in terms of the usual standards of hosting such parties. It was as eccentric as its Gothic décor, consisting of tables filled with silver platters of fruits, meats, bread, and desserts, goblets of beverages, and candles. Every once and a while, a few guests would stuff themselves and each other with this feast, disregarding etiquette for sheer pleasure. Peach isn’t used to the cacophony of this kind of merrymaking. All of this was nothing but pure, unadulterated debauchery – something she was taught never to delve into. She is a princess, after all, and princesses never do those sorts of things. However, did she not accept the invitation to let herself loose? Did she not agree to join this performance – this masquerade – to experience something new for once? For once? Feeling out of place just standing idle amongst Prince Fortunato and the guests, Peach goes over to one of the tables and picks at a plate of grapes. She watches as the guests gather around Natasha and Ophelia in one huge circle, clapping to the music’s rhythm as they frolic together. The fabrics of their dresses fly with their movements as if they were colorful wings dancing in the darkness. As she plops the grapes delicately into her mouth, her eyes continue to wander over the décor. Suddenly, she stops at a grim sight. There as the centerpiece sits three skulls, two of them from a different species, ones Peach isn’t familiar with. The skull placed in the middle, however, is human. She could not tell if these skulls were real. She hopes they aren’t real. Taking a closer look, an engraving is found on its forehead: Ars longa, vita brevis.

Without warning, the Gallery doors burst open! The music stops – the crowd jumps in surprise! Prince Fortunato rises to his feet, alarmed by this sudden interruption. Peach turns around. There standing in the doorway is an aged peasant woman in old, torn rags, her hair glowing bright red like a burning inferno. Her complexion is dirtied, her makeup is smudged, her eyes red-hot with fury. She scowls as she approaches the partygoers, her hands clenched as if she is about to attack. “For shame!Have you no shame?!” the peasant chants, flailing her arms with rage, “Have you no compassion for your people?! The plague lays waste throughout the land! And yet, here you are, surrounding yourself with wealth and whores! They are suffering! They are dying! There is no hope for us! For shame! For shame! Have you no shame?!” Peach watches as everyone else steps back, avoiding her filthy presence. Twelve. Twelve members in Phantom’s theatre troupe. Prince Fortunato steps forward, confronting her, “Who dares… who dares interrupts us?! Who dares trespass Fort Fortunato and speak against the Crown?!”

“It is your undoing that dares enter your home! This, all of this, will be your downfall!” she responds back angerly, gesturing to the masquerade.

“Leave this instant, or else I’ll have your head for this!”

“I have seen it, Prince Fortunato! I have seen your fate in the deepest of dreams! Doom is upon you all!”

“Ah, it’s one of those so-called soothsayers my people love so much… how lovely. They love having their fortunes told, don’t they? Superstitions and all that. Hmmm. Well, in that case, go on. Amuse us with your… dreams and visions, fortune teller. We do love to be entertained.”

“It will come, Prince Fortunato, in retribution of your indulgences. You and your party may hide all you want; it will still find you! Mortals cannot escape from what is inevitable. In the end, it shall visit us when our time comes… and your time is nigh.”

“Qu’est-ce que tu racontes? What is this ‘it’ you’re talking about? Whatever ‘it’ is, I am sure it will not ruin this masquerade. Princess, do you hear all this? She’s simply mad!”

“Our time is nigh!”

“Tu es timbre!”

“For shame! For shame!”

“Quitter cet endroit!”

“Have you no shame?!”

The peasant stops. Her eyes shift towards Peach. A look of horror falls upon her face. “You…”, she whispers, slowly raising a pointed finger at her. Peach watches as she approaches her, still pointing, terrified. Her expression contorts as if she is studying, searching for something. “You… are to be Death’s Bride… Yes! You are Death’s Bride!” she exclaims, falling to her knees, clutching Peach’s skirt, “Oh, you poor soul! So young… innocent… all to be swept by its dark embrace! I beg of you, your highness, leave this place! Forget these fools! Forget all of this! Save yourself!” With a swift grab, Prince Fortunato pulls the peasant away by the shoulder and pushes her aside. “Unhand her this instant! You trespass my fortress, you waste our time with your superstitions, and now you insult me and my guests?” he yells, “Everyone! Let us show this insolent wretch what it means to insult those higher than her! Bring me a chair! Bring me some rope! Let’s play a game with her, shall we?” Peach could not believe it. A prince sacrificing the well-being of his people for an elaborate masquerade! And now, he and the other guests have decided to torture this poor woman! She cannot stay silent any longer – she must act! “Wait!” Peach cries, making everyone stop in unison, “Have mercy on her! Please!” Prince Fortunato scoffs in amusement, “Why, and for what? She insulted us, you heard her!”

“Yes, but none of that would have happened if you attended to your royal duties as Prince and took care of your people!”

“E-excusez-moi?”

“This poor woman is in dire need of assistance, and you have all the wealth to help her! Maybe you should consider.”

“Ha! My dear, you jest! I have no need for peasants! Why should I dabble in their affairs?”

“Because their affairs are yours as well. They have relied on you for so long, and you rely on them. Without your people, you’re done for!”

“Do you not see the extravagance of this masquerade? The bountiful feasts presented on the tables? Our costumes? The wine in our glasses? I am rich, Princess Morrigan! Wealthy beyond imagination!”

“Wealth that came from people like her! Please, my Lord, have mercy.”

“Are you mad? Ha, you must be! Just as mad as the fortune teller!”

“If I am as mad as her, then I must be! Yes, that’s it! Perhaps your foolishness is just another wild hallucination, for what respectable royalty spoils themselves to the point of gluttony and greed?”

A crowd of gasps shatter the silence. The crowd glance at Peach, then at the prince, then back at her, awaiting another response. Prince Fortunato stands silent, completely stunned by her audacity. His face becomes flushed, his teeth gritting, his emerald eyes bright with anger. His fists clench. “Oh…. I’m a fool, am I? Am I a fool?! I am not a fool! I am Prince Fortunato, the next in line! Heir to the throne! I am as respectable as royalty can be!” he furiously shouts, “I will not be insulted like this! I will not be degraded like this! I need not your judgment, or hers, or anyone else’s! I am no fool, do you hear me? I am not a fool! I am a Prince, full of riches and beauty! I am perfect! I am powerful! I am untouchable! You think I’m a fool? You call me a fool, eh? Ha ha! Well then, let me entertain you all! Come, gather around, my lovely guests! Let me show you what a true fool really is!” With a whip of his cape, Prince Fortunato rushes from the crowd and goes behind the throne. Everyone watches as he switches his coat and cape with another coat and removes his crown with another accessory. In a matter of seconds, he reappears, this time donning a shiny blue coat and a mask in the shape of a rabbit’s face. Raising his arms, he presents his new costume to the crowd, “Here! Here! I am now a fool! But Prince Fortunato? Oh no, no, no! He is no fool! You imbeciles! He is a national treasure!” Has Prince Fortunato finally lost his sanity? What could he possibly gain from this? Peach is stunned, as much as the rest of the others. However, she is not as terrified as everyone else. She sees Natasha and Ophelia cradling each other, comforting one another despite both being in distress. She sees Stefan in costume backing away, almost seeming to run away and hide somewhere safe. She sees Dolores frozen in utter fear.

Peach remembers what she had said: “My master can be terrifying when he has his moments.”

No one could help but watch as Prince Fortunato danced along the ballroom floor, singing random songs in a mocking fashion. He flails his arms, waving his hands wildly as if no one is watching him. Is this even part of the roleplay? This moment feels too spontaneous to even be scripted. Peach could not imagine Phantom having his own theatre troupe mock him, regardless of whether or not it would be intentional. Whoever is playing Prince Fortunato must truly be a fool. Prince Fortunato sings in a sardonic tone:

🎶“Look at me!

Watch me float and gloat and show off my coat!

Watch me as I sing about plumbers – oh, how I hate them!

I hate them so much, oh what a bummer!

Watch me as I make sweet, sweet love to my precious spotlight

Under the moonlight!”🎶

Although the song is less than perfect, Peach admits to herself: he has an amazing singing voice! And he sings opera, just like his master! She wonders if all of the members of the theatre troupe can sing as well. Ah, no! Enough of that! Don’t get distracted now! As he sings, Prince Fortunato runs and leaps onto a nearby table, knocking over huge plates of food, skulls, and candles on the floor. Everyone else watches as he spins and taps his feet on the table, his arms still flailing around. No one in the theatre troupe tries to stop him – they’re all too shocked and afraid to even do so. They did not want to get involved in such mockery. Peach could. However, what would happen if she did? As much as she would like to stop him, she just couldn’t. For whatever reason, whether it be out of shock, or out of fear, or out of curiosity, she did not move at all. Still, the Prince continues:

🎶“Imbecile, imbecile, imbecile!

Everyone’s an imbecile but me!

Listen to me, listen to me!

My ego is as big as it can be!

Come, my Princess, marry me please

Or else I’ll cry, cry, cry!”🎶

Then, the sudden drone of a large bell rings! It brings everyone into a hush, sending an immense chill down their spine. No one moves. The drone continues. And continues. And continues. Is this what the peasant woman was talking about? The impending doom that is to fall upon this masquerade? The fate of everyone who stands here on this very night? This inevitability that will claim those who still walk on this earth? Whatever is coming for them… has arrived to make its debut.

The Gallery doors creak open. Seeping through the entrance is a cloud of fog, billowing across the floor like a massive white sheet. It surrounds everyone, almost rising up to their knees, and soon the entire chamber is filled to the brim with gloom. Prince Fortunato finally steps down, his eyes staring in fear at the entrance, and retreats behind Peach. As fate approaches them, soft murmurs of terror arise from the crowd. One by one, each and every actor and actress trembles in anticipation. Peach awaits as well, but more out of curiosity than the shock of terror. This feeling; she remembers it all too well. She has to know what happens next. She has to know what kind of resolution this entire roleplay performance is coming to. Although the resolution is frightening, it was the satisfaction of discovery that keeps her within the Gallery. She will not leave. Fear will not take over. Only curiosity. Only awe and wonder. Only fascination.

And lo and behold, there stands the face of Death in his newest and blackest masterpiece.

He stands tall, bejeweled and shrouded in crimson, emerging from behind the murky darkness. The sheer size of him is intimidating enough, but the opulence in which he had adorned himself gives him an almost divine presence in the masquerade. Out of all the costumes Peach has seen, this one is more magnificent – more vibrant and elaborate – than the rest. Blood red veils cascade down from his large cavalier hat and alongside his cape. His vest a skeletal ribcage, patterns of bones scatter his scarlet greatcoat, and in his paws is a colossal gold cane. Hidden underneath the shadow of his hat is a golden mask, formed into the shape of a skull. Everyone slowly backs away as this masked red-clad stranger approaches them. But not Peach. Instead, she stays, completely in awe. She has become too enamored by his Gothic glamour to even be remotely scared. Finally. After so many days, they finally meet once again. She could see his sapphire eyes peering through and meeting hers with a sign of notice. He stops for a moment. That look… that tender gaze! Although they had only met for a little while before this moment, Peach confesses to herself: she could never have enough of those bright eyes. Those gleaming sapphire eyes. Even through that skull mask of his, she could stare into them all night long.

Alluring… Beguiling… Captivating… Enchanting…

Phantom shifts his attention to Prince Fortunato, his eyes wide with fury. The partygoers cower as he floats over to the foolish prince, towering over him as he looks down. Prince Fortunato scrambles, quickly taking off his blue coat and rabbit mask, full of sweat, almost hyperventilating. His face is revealed with a terrified expression. His eyes look up at Phantom, awaiting whatever fate – whatever punishment – shall bestow upon him. Phantom twists his cane and slowly he pulls it apart, revealing it to be a scabbard with a long, sharp sword inside it. Peach gasps as he unsheathes his weapon, raises it up in the air, and points it down at a quivering Prince Fortunato. “Please, monsieur!” Prince Fortunato gasps and swallows, “Spare me! It was only a mere jest! I was only having some fun entertaining my guests! I-I am the host, after all! Monsieur, please… Have mercy…!” Everyone watches in horror as he pleads for forgiveness. Phantom takes in a deep breathe; music begins to play again. It is in minor key, deep and dramatic – the orchestral equivalent to an imposing force. Peach holds her breath. Finally. With a smooth, baritone voice, Phantom sings his haunting solo:

🎶“Fortunato!

Surrender to me,

Look upon the face of Death!

It is meant to be,

Now savor your last breath!

Fortunato!

Your time has come at last,

Take your final drink of wine!

For your sins in the past,

Oh Prince, your soul will be mine!”🎶

“No!” the prince cries out, “You cannot take me! I will not let you! My guests need me! My people need me!” What hypocrisy! What foolishness! Peach watches intently. What is going to happen next? Will this masked presence spare Prince Fortunato? Will Prince Fortunato’s mockery be forgiven? She anticipates what comes next, whatever that may be. But although she tries to expect the unexpected, there is one thing she is certain about: the masquerade was doomed from the very beginning. Phantom lowers his sword, just by an inch, almost as if in contemplation. A few moments of silence passes. Everyone watches him in anticipation. Peach. Prince Fortunato. Dolores, Stefan, Natasha and Ophelia. Everyone. Anticipating. Anticipating. Anticipating.

Phantom smirks, letting out a soft chuckle. His sword lowers even more, and finally inserts it back into the scabbard. A sigh of relief fills the Gallery…

Then sudden horror! It happened so swiftly. So much so that if one were to blink at that moment, they would miss it completely. A scream pierces the silence! It was Prince Fortunato, now on the floor collapsed to his knees! He screams in agony as his covers his face! Phantom had made a sharp wave of his hand, almost as if he were to slap him across the face. But no! It was much, much worse. A terrible fate had fell upon the prince.

Blood…!

Oozing from his face is a gush of crimson blood! His eye sockets, his nostrils, his mouth, his pores – all drenched in blood! Horrid blemishes begin appearing on his flesh, leaving opened, pus-filled wounds as they pop one by one! Tears and yellow fluids mix with the blood, staining the floor with a pool of secretions! And the screams! Oh, the screams! Prince Fortunato tries to hide his face once more, only to find that it hurts too much! His hands pull away from his face – and, oh God! His flesh, his flesh – it is rotting away! What was once the pristine beauty of a spoiled, gluttonous prince is now the face of nightmares. He coughs and chokes; he cannot scream anymore – blood has filled his throat! He falls onto the floor, panicking, suffering! To think that this is what his people had to endure while no one was there to save their lives. With eyes stained with tears and blood, he rushes over to his guests and reaches for help, but in vain, for who could ever touch a diseased man? With a final cry of fear, Prince Fortunato falls. There lays on the floor is a twitching corpse, the face mutilated by the worst of illnesses…

This display of gore puts the guests into a state of frenzied panic! More screams and sobs fill the Gallery, as well as the sound of footsteps running and chairs and tables knocked over. If they don’t do something, Phantom will come after them next! Anything to get away from this face of Death. Chaos ensues! All except for Peach. Peach stands still amongst the disorder of the partygoers. Her widened eyes are fixated on Phantom. Is it shock? Is it fear? Is it something else entirely? Of course, anybody would be frightened by the sheer grotesqueness of the prince’s death and the possibility of meeting the same fate. But strangely, it seems to not bother Peach at all, almost as if she isn’t aware of the situation. Perhaps she is still mesmerized by Phantom’s extravagant appearance? Perhaps she is somehow desensitized? Whatever is going on, Peach still remains, as well as the peasant woman. The two ladies stare as Phantom slowly turns to watch over the terrified crowd. He observes the scene quietly. All in unison, the panicked guests rush toward the Gallery doors. With a wave of his hand, he blocks the entrance, slamming it tightly shut. Ophelia throws herself on the doors, slamming her fists frantically, “Open the doors! Open the doors! Oh please, open the doors!” Everyone begins to do the same. But alas, their attempts of escape are futile, for their master – the Red Death – had already claimed their souls. Once again, Phantom sings:

🎶“Crowned with privilege and villainous

Bathe in the blood of your wickedness

Tonight, retribution is at hand

For this masquerade shall be damned

Mask yourselves to hide your shame

But in the end, they know your name

Into the earth, your corpses will sink

May your blood be the wine they drink…”🎶

And one by one, each guest fell, forming a massive pile of bloodied bodies in front of the entrance. Peach takes in what had just happened. She had never seen something so macabre before. Roleplay, she thinks to herself, this is all just roleplay. This is all just pretend. No one is hurt. They are all just acting. This is all just roleplay. But by the stars, it looks so… real! There is blood everywhere. Not just the red pool on the floor, but also smeared handprints on the doors too. How did Phantom do all of this? This must have taken so much effort and hard work to even pull off such a remarkably gory scene! Peach couldn’t help but wonder what exactly went through Phantom’s mind when making this performance. This was something she never expected, let alone how absolutely graphic it was going to be. But regardless, the entirety of the roleplay screamed Phantom. It was bold. Dramatic. A complete subversion from a usual masterpiece. There was grandeur, there was beauty, there was mystery, there was tension. Then finally the payoff – an act of karma against the avaricious Prince Fortunato and his hedonistic friends. Now only she and the peasant woman are left. Peach cannot imagine what this powerful reaper is going to do next. Ah, no – she suddenly remembers!

Death’s Bride. She is to be Death’s Bride…

Her thoughts are interrupted by another cry, this time from the peasant woman. She turns to find Phantom approaching her, his hand lifting up to claim another soul. But why must the good die? Death is inevitable, it is true. Life is short. Peach knew this. But what did this poor woman do to deserve such a fate? Why do bad things happen to good people? Perhaps it is meant to be, just like what Phantom said. Roleplay. It is all just roleplay. Should she stand by and let things take its course? Or maybe… what could she do? Roleplay…. Ah, of course! Peach dashes over and stands in between them. “Wait!” she says, defending the peasant woman, “Have mercy on her!” Phantom pauses, taken by surprise for a moment, but then resumes in character. “Young or old, poor or rich… Death waits for no one. Her time has come.” Phantom calmly responds, his voice low. “Can you at least give her enough time to live another day? Can you see she has suffered enough? Please, I beg of you.” Peach pleads.

“You stand in front of the face of Death… and yet you are not frightened. Are you… not afraid of me?”

“I do not fear what is inevitable. I just want to give her another chance.”

“Such compassion… and all of this for a stranger. However, as painful as it may be, you cannot persuade me to spare her.”

“If that is not enough, then I will offer a gift to you.”

“And what is this gift you speak of?”

“For this woman’s life, I offer you myself. You can have my soul. You can have everything, all of me, and I will not refuse you.”

Phantom is rendered speechless, despite staying in character. Do his ears deceive him? No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t possibly be! Deep down inside, he could not believe what Peach had just said. He watches as Peach ushers the peasant woman to flee the masquerade, and so she does, retreating to a small secret entrance hidden by the large curtains. Silence. As much as he tries, Phantom seems to be unable to speak. Now only he and the princess are alone. Together. Just like that one night. “I believe that is enough to persuade you?” Peach says with a soft smile. That smile. Oh, that sweet smile! He could stare at it forever! “I can be yours, and yours only. I will not leave. I will be not be frightened.” she continues, “It must be lonely, going around the world and reaping souls for those who’s time has passed. You don’t have to be lonely. You can have a companion! Someone who will join you by you side. Don’t you want that?” Companionship. Is Peach talking to Death or to Phantom himself? The lines between roleplay and real life begin to blur before his very eyes. He could not differentiate which is just acting or an actual confession. She must be playing a trick – she must be! This could not possibly be real! This is just too good to be true! Taking in a deep breath, staring deep into Peach’s pretty eyes, Phantom sings one last solo:

🎶“Oh, Sweet Maiden!

Surrender to me,

Look upon your paramour!

It is meant to be,

Together forevermore!

Oh, Sweet Maiden!

Your time has come at last

Take your final drink of wine

For this spell I shall cast

My Bride, your heart will be mine!”🎶

With a wave of his hand, two shiny, black feathered wings sprout from Peach’s back! Peach glances over in surprise, admiring her new wings. They sparkled under the light of the chandelier with iridescent glitter. Natasha must have added these in while making her costume. Once again, she continues to be impressed be Natasha’s work. Then her eyes glance over towards the Gallery entrance. Peach stops. Something has changed. Her eyes squints as she tries to make out what she is seeing. Confusion floods her mind until realization hits her.

The bodies… are those…. Mannequins?

Phantom places his paw on her cheek, delicately turning her face towards him. The softness of his caress fills her senses, and she is greeted by his tender gaze. What a tender gaze he has! As her eyes are locked in his gaze, Peach feels herself being gently embraced around her waist and leaning back into a dip. Her heart begins to race. Beat after beat it quickens its pace, her breathing becomes more and more shaky. It must be adrenaline – all of this is so new to her. Peach finds herself reaching out towards Phantom and, ever so gently, she takes off his skull mask, revealing his face. At long last, she finally sees him. Oh, how she missed him! “Did you enjoy the show, your highness?” Phantom grins, “I must admit, there were some things that weren’t… intended to happen, but as long a—” He is stopped, as Peach catches him off guard. Locked in a tight hug around his neck, he feels his lips being locked with hers. It was passionate yet gentle and warm. Peach, the princess he has adored for so many years, is giving him a kiss. A kiss! Is this a dream? Is this actually happening? So many thoughts went through Phantom’s mind. He could not process all of them at once; his head could possibly burst from excitement! His eyes flutter and close, letting himself melt into Peach’s embrace. If they could pull each closer than they already are, they could. But no matter how much closer they can be, it just wasn’t enough. They wanted each other. They craved each other. The unbridled desire for connection and companionship broke loose, and immediately they find themselves losing all control of their yearning. Their lips break apart, their hot breaths mingling with each other. They open their eyes; Peach grins and so does Phantom. They kiss again, neither of them wanting to stop. “Ah…!” Phantom gasps in between her soft lips, “Mon ange de la mort…!”

Overwhelmed, Peach swoons as Phantom dips her even further and surrenders herself to his kiss of death.

---

She woke up the next morning. The first thought that would have come to her mind was how she even managed to return to her castle without any notice. But no, the very first thought that came to her mind was what happened last night. She laid in her bed and, as stares up at the ceiling, touched her lips softly with her fingertips. Then up her rosy cheek, then down to her neck, and across her bare shoulders. She could still feel his touch. She sighs deeply – what a performance that was! Peach stretched her whole body and curled up, sinking back into sleep. A love stricken grin appeared on her face as she whispered to herself, “Until we meet again.”