#bringing another dashing scarf to the table

[dreamingofaizawa]

Coffee and Stitches - Part One

Shouta Aizawa x AFAB! Fem! Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of blood and wounds, a small hint at violence but nothing insane.

Word Count: 8.1k (damn)

Author's Note: AHHHHHHHHHHH I'm honestly so excited for this. Slow burn is definitely NOT what I normally write, but I've been possessed to do this. She's gona be a long one though, be warned.

Enjoy~

The first time pro hero Earserhead walked into your 24-hour cafe it was almost 2am, and you were shocked. Not by the fact he’s a pro hero, or by how late it is, but by the fact that he was battered and bruised on just about every exposed piece of his skin. It looked like he’s already seen some first aid, what with the bandage on his cheek and his left arm in a sling. But still, he looked much worse for wear.

You were in the middle of your greeting when you gasped at the state he was in. He seemed unfazed. Just after he ordered his coffee — light roast, two sugars, cream and a dash of cinnamon— you ushered him to sit down in one of the cafe chairs. With the cafe empty you can’t help but want to fill the empty silence. 

“Tough fight tonight, Eraserhead?” He only hums, a tired sound really. So you finish up his coffee and walk it out to him, setting it gently on the table. He gives a quiet thanks as you nod and return to your tasks behind the counter. He sat there sipping his coffee for about an hour, before getting up to get another. When you brought out the second one, you also brought out a slice of warmed coffee cake, on the house.

It was about 30 minutes before he came up to the counter once again.

“Is it alright if I ask for your help?” There’s nothing better for you to do with an empty cafe, and he’s a pro hero. You’d help him with anything.

“What can I do for you?” He holds up a tiny bottle labeled eye drops, and asks you to open it. His other hand is stuck in that sling, and until now you hadn’t noticed his entire hand is wrapped up tight like a mummy. He easily tips his head back, letting two drops fall into each eye, before placing the bottle back on the table for you to close.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for distracting you at work.” You chuckle as you return to your tasks, wringing out a wet sanitized rag and wiping down the already clean counters.

“I think good people are worth the distraction, Eraserhead.”

“Shouta.” You blink at him, as he tosses his empty cup in the trash.

“My name is Shouta.” You smile as he walks to the door.

“Have a good night, Shouta.”

“You too.”

The second time he walks in, he’s fully healed. It’s just past 10 and he’s in casual clothing, with a laptop bag slung over his shoulder. He looks different in civilian clothes, a v-neck long sleeved shirt and jeans, with his hair tied in a low ponytail. He still has that scarf though. Somewhere in your brain you note he looks quite nice in civilian clothes.

He orders the same coffee, this time with a bagel and cream cheese, and by the time you bring it to him he’s got his laptop out with a stack of papers off to the left and a red pen in hand. You already know he’s a teacher at UA, most people do. You’re more than a little proud that your little cafe is his chosen grading spot for the night. By the time he leaves it’s nearing midnight, and he’s worked through three refills.

That’s how it goes for a few months.

Occasionally he’ll step in with his hero getup before and after a patrol, and more often than not he’s in casual clothing after a day of teaching, always grading another hefty stack of teenaged heroes’ homework. Every time it’s the same, a ‘good evening Shouta’ and a tired ‘evening’ in reply.

Every night is the same. Until tonight.

Tonight when he bursts through the door you jump out of your skin from the bang that rings through the cafe. You’re just a little relieved there’s nobody else here to witness the sight before you, and part of you is surprised the glass door hasn’t shattered from the impact. He’s limping and bloody, dripping wet from the rain, and he’s dragging an unconscious mass that must be human behind him all wrapped up in his scarf like a mummy. His voice is riddled with exhaustion, weak and rough, when he addresses you.

“I’m so sorry.”

That’s all he says before falling to his knees and collapsing on the floor. You freeze for a minute, before rushing over to his side. He’s still partially awake, and with whatever sense you have left you quickly get to work. The store is closed down and locked up, shades drawn over the windows haphazardly and you hit the panic button under the counter, which would dispatch an ambulance and a police unit.

Then you make coffee. You infuse your healing quirk into every ounce, then force a semi-conscious Shouta to chug a cup after you’ve cooled it down with ice. You'll regret it later, using it so liberally, but that's a problem you can deal with tomorrow. With that working, you run up to the apartment you live in upstairs and grab a few things. A couple towels, your oversized sweater and sweatpants, your best pair of scissors, and your first aid kit.

The adrenaline is what keeps you from feeling awkward as you unzip Shouta’s hero costume and begin to check him for the worst of his injuries. His half-conscious mind makes him almost delirious as he chuckles at you.

“Isn’t it a little soon for you to be feeling me up?” You glare at him, but there’s no heat behind it. It’s hard to be mad at someone who’s actively bleeding, and somehow still looks attractive.

“I’m checking you for injuries while my quirk kicks in.”

“And when is that?” You try your best to keep your hands from shaking as you peel back the jumpsuit and tug the tank top he’s got beneath it. There’s a large gash on his right side, not fatally deep, but he’ll definitely need stitches and he’s already lost a lot of blood. It seems like that’s the only bad injury he’s got, which you’re grateful for.

“Believe me, you’ll know.” With that you start to cut the tank off his body, packing the wound with whatever clean towels you have at hand. He hisses at the pressure, but you know that he knows he’s felt much worse. So he doesn’t complain. The rest of his tank top is stripped off him, and you help him tug the top of his jumpsuit completely off so it sits around his hips. You try not to think about his muscles, nor the little happy trail on his abdomen. It’s then that he nearly jolts upright, and you have to catch him from lurching forward. You can feel his heart hammering in his chest and his breaths come out hard and fast.

“Holy shit. I guess that’s your quirk then?” You laugh a little.

“Yeah. Your body’s processing everything faster, so the gash on your side should be trying to heal itself by now.” Lo and behold, when you pull the bloody towels away he’s already stopped bleeding. When you think he’s ready, you urge him to stand and walk him over to the bathroom. He’s a little confused as you do so.

“I said your body is processing things faster. That includes your bladder and bowel movements. You’re going to need to go sooner than later, believe me. Think you can stand alone?”

“Yeah. That quirk of yours did wonders for my ankle, so I think I’m good right now. Thank you.” You nod and hand him the extra clothes you’d grabbed as he shuts the door behind him.

“Call me if you need help.” You don’t get an answer back, but you can hear him shuffling around so you let him be. Now with space to breathe, you allow yourself to relax. That was…insane. Pro hero Eraserhead, a regular at your cafe, just burst in all bloody, dragging a villain behind him. Wait.

You nearly trip over your own feet with how fast you move back around the bar. The dude is still wrapped up in that scarf, except he’s awake and squirming, muffled complaints barely making it through the fabric covering his mouth. His hands are poking out behind his back, and you can see the quirk canceling cuffs slapped on his wrists. At least you know he’s secure.

“Don’t worry, he can’t hurt you.” You nearly jump three feet in the air at the sheer closeness of Shouta’s voice.

“Holy- Make noise when you move, geez! Scared the life out of me.”

“Sorry.” He’s not sorry. He’s laughing at you.

“Anyway. The police and an ambulance should be on their way by now. I’m going to make myself a coffee and a snack. Did you want anything to eat or drink while we wait?” He contemplated for a moment, glancing up at the food menu. He doesn’t seem particularly keen on anything.

“I’ve got a couple pieces of a chicken pot pie left upstairs if you’d like. That’s what I’m eating anyway.” He nods, then asks for his usual coffee with the addition of an espresso shot. It doesn’t take long for you to get everything done. You made the coffee while the pie was reheating in the cafe’s mini oven. Soon you and Shouta were sitting at a table and enjoying your small meal.

It wasn’t long before emergency services showed up. You’d barely finished your food and coffee when you heard the sirens down the street, and the lights came into view a few seconds later. It isn’t until the paramedics are giving you a once-over that you realize you’re absolutely covered in blood, no doubt Shouta’s.

It takes longer than you like for the police to finish questioning you and bagging the villain, but at the end of it all you’re left alone in the cafe with Shouta. The silence is eerie as you stand there together, staring out the door the authorities have just vacated from. Shouta is the first to break the silence.

“Are you okay?” It takes you what feels like way too long to turn and meet his eyes.

“Are you? You lost so much blood. I don’t know how you’re awake right now.” He hums, raising his hand to cover the dressed wound on his side. It’s probably subconscious, at least slightly.

“Being a hero this long you kinda get used to it. Like how someone who regularly donates blood gets used to the dizziness afterward. It doesn’t necessarily get better, just easier to stomach.”

“Wow. That was kinda depressing.” You both stare at each other, then burst into fits of giggles at the insanity of it all.

"I guess that means I should be going now. Sorry again, for dragging you into this." You shake your head, there's no reason for him to be apologizing.

"You needed help, I know this place is the only one open this late. Besides, it's not like I've got much else to do with an empty store." His expression is a mix between apologetic and 'yeah, good point'. When he makes a move to leave, you take a moment to consider a few things. The rain is still coming down hard outside, hard enough you can't quite make out the other side of the street. Shouta came in on foot, which means he'd be leaving on foot as well.

"Are you sure you wanna go out into that?" He follows your gaze to the rain outside, a weak shrug following.

"It's nothing I haven't done before." He moves toward the door, and you make a split second decision. You can't, in good conscience, let a hero walk out into the rain to who knows how far his house is, at this hour, injured. You step directly in his path, stopping him in his tracks.

"Listen, I really don't think it's a good idea for you to be going out there. I've got a pull-out futon and hot water." His eyes narrow ever so slightly, head tilting a fraction.

"Are you offering me a place to stay?" The way he says it is playful and light, makes you chuckle just a little.

"It's late, it's dark, it's cold, you're injured, and you're probably exhausted. So, yes, I am offering you a place to stay for the night." He's silent and still as he considers your offer. You don't want him to go, if for no other reason than the fact that there's every possibility he'd pass out once your quirk wears off completely.

"Okay, I'll stay. Thank you." Relief floods your body. With that settled you shut down everything in the cafe and shoot a text to the three coming in to cover the morning shift that they'd need to bring their keys to get in the store. You grab the bodily fluids cleanup kit, take the time to clean all the blood off the tiles, then head up to your connected apartment. Shouta follows you up the stairs in the far corner behind the counter, through the door at the top and into your living space. You haven't had the time to really clean up lately, sketchbooks and pens littering the small coffee table in front of the couch, a towel and a stray pair of jeans strewn over the back of that same couch, a few other bits and bobs dotted around. It's nothing you're embarrassed about.

You grab the few clothing items as you walk by, move the coffee table, pull out the couch and get it completely set up with a sheet, pillows and a blanket. You grab a clean towel, setting it on the coffee table with a spare disposable toothbrush and a pair of boxers you kept in case of emergencies. One of his eyebrows shot up at that.

"They haven't been used, I promise." It's the truth, you have some spares of all kinds of underwear in case friends end up staying unplanned. Or heroes, apparently.

"I’m gonna take a shower, if you want to shower, feel free. Bathroom is the first door on the right, and the fridge is mostly stocked. My room is at the end of the hall, I'll be up for a little longer, so if you need anything just poke your head in the door. I'll leave it open." He rests a hand on your shoulder to look you in the eyes.

"Again, thank you. This is very kind of you." All you can do is smile.

"I couldn't let you go out there in that state. It's no big deal, and you're a hero. I'm happy to help." You wave over your shoulder as you disappear down the hall to collect your sleep set.

"If you need anything, you know where to find me." You take a quick shower before hopping into bed, the events of tonight catching up to you and exhaustion settles in your bones. You don't hear from him at all until you wake up around noon, sounds and smells slowly tugging you from slumber. You make your way out to your small kitchen to find the hero quietly plating some food, setting the plates out on the counter when he spots you.

"Good timing, I just finished up. Take a seat, breakfast is ready." It's strangely domestic, the way he sits beside you in the thrifted bar stools you'd adorned the small kitchen with.

"Thank you for breakfast. You didn't have to do all this." He shakes his head, swallowing the bite he'd taken.

"Of course I did. I burst into your store at ass-o'clock in the morning, soaked to the bone, bleeding, with a criminal wiggling around in handcuffs and you not only healed my wounds but offered me a place to sleep for the night." You sigh, shrug your shoulders lazily.

"Yeah, fair enough. Though I'd argue the only generous part of any of that is offering you to stay the night. I'm sure any sane person would have tried their best to help regardless." He matches your shrug.

"Huh. Fair enough." The mimicked phrase makes you crack a smile. The rest of your breakfast is shared in comfortable silence, the both of you happy to eat and exist as you are. It’s a decent meal, put together with what was in your fridge, but still tasted good. Soon your plates are clean and the both of you work in tandem to clean up the kitchen. He washes the dishes, you dry them and return them to their proper homes. You wipe down the counters and stove top while he cleans himself up, then it's your turn to get ready for the day. It's nice, sharing the space with him. He doesn't make anything awkward even though this is the first time he's been here, and his presence is not just comforting but enjoyable.

"You have everything you need? Not forgetting anything?" He doesn't bother looking around, he's sure he's grabbed all of his things. You'd given him a small spare duffel to carry everything, he probably packed everything before you woke up.

"I should have everything. If I don't, I know where to look." True. With that you both head out your door and down the steps to the cafe. Your coworkers are surprised to see the two of you emerge from the stairway, rather than you alone, and you shoot them some glares. Their scandalous glances fall and they refocus on what they’re doing.

"Thank you again for letting me stay. I'll get out of your hair for now, but I'll probably be back in the next few days like usual." You nod, then turn to quickly make a cup of coffee, just the way he likes it, plus the teeniest bit of your healing infused into it.

"Shouta, take this with you. It's got some of my healing quirk in there, so sip at it slowly. It should start kicking in when you reach wherever you're going." He takes the cup graciously, thanking you again before he's out the door. The voice behind you makes you jump, being so close to you.

"Girl...ERASERHEAD? What the hell happened last night?" You slump over and roll your eyes at Rika, her insinuation not lost on you.

"I'll explain it later. You're gonna have to give me some time to deal with my quirk's backlash for right now, I'll be back down in a few hours." She nods, then allows you to go back upstairs. The climb is a little more difficult now, the effects of your quirk kicking in at the last few steps making you curl into yourself at the sudden pain in your abdomen.

"Shit." It takes a lot of strength and willpower to actually drag yourself to the bathroom, blood already seeping through your shirt. Just like last night, you pack the wound best you can and prep the first aid kit. Sterile needle, suture thread, sterile gauze and medical tape are all splayed out on the bathroom counter after crudely dousing the surface in rubbing alcohol. It's not a hospital, but it's clean enough. Between the blood loss and the pain, you're shaking as you stitch up the gash in your side. It's not as deep as Shouta's. If it were, you were prepared to call an ambulance for yourself. The sound of your door opening and closing filters through your brain, Rika's voice echoing as she approaches down the hall.

"Hey, do you need any help up here? They're okay downst- What the fuck?! Dude we gotta get you to the hospital!" You shake your head no.

"It's fine, I'm almost done. It looks a lot worse than it is." Still bewildered, she reluctantly nods.

"Right...Do you need anything? Water, maybe?"

"Yeah, water would be nice. Maybe some apple juice from downstairs to help my blood sugar? If you can?" She's gone in a flash, a short 'on it!' shouted behind her. Well, at least you wouldn't have to get it on your own. You tie off the sutures and clean yourself up, taping the gauze over the wound. The worst part is over. Rika returns with a full glass of iced water and a small cup of juice, both of which you chug down before cleaning up the bathroom. Your ankle gives just a little as you walk around, and Rika catches you by the arm before you fall face-first into the sink.

"Holy shit are you sure you're okay? Eraserhead must have been seriously hurt last night if this is what you look like right now. You sure you don't want me to call an ambulance or drive you to the ER or something?"

"I'm sure, thank you. I'll be fine, I just need some time to recuperate. You can go back downstairs Rika, if I really need help I'll call emergency services myself." She shoots you a disapproving look but doesn't say anything else before disappearing downstairs to rejoin the rest in the cafe. Limping out to the parlor you notice everything is back in its proper place, and then some. You hadn't noticed when you woke up, but Shouta had returned all of the furniture, washed the sheets and blanket he'd used, and even organized the mess of pens on the coffee table into their pouch. Tenderly, you lie down on the couch, content to rest your body for a while, and your mind decides it’s time to take a short nap. When you wake up again it's nearing 3pm, and Rika is sitting on one of the barstools. Her shift probably ended not too long ago.

"How are you feeling?" You groan as you sit up, careful not to rip the stitches.

"Like shit. But it's not the worst thing I've felt." She scoffs and shakes her head at you, both in slight disappointment and shock.

"I don't know how you're still alive. And I'm not talking about your current injuries. The shit you've already dealt with is insanity." A small laugh is pulled from your throat. You know what she means, and you know why you're not actually dead. Your quirk can heal any and all physical injuries in another person, but the one awful drawback is that those injuries will transfer to your body. You can choose when they transfer, in the span of about twelve hours, depending on how severe the injuries are. But they will transfer, no matter what. Your one saving grace is that no matter the injury, it will not be as bad as the original. Even a fatal wound would be just survivable for you. Shot in the heart? The hole will appear in your chest, but it won't pierce the vital organ. Arm chopped off? The cut would be distributed around your arm, avoiding large arteries and any crucial ligaments or bones. It’s almost like it splits the effects of the injury between you and the original victim.

"I'm alive cause my quirk keeps me alive. You know how it works."

"Yeah, I know how it works but I still have trouble believing it sometimes." That's fair. She nods her chin over to your ankle, which is now wrapped nicely in a bandage.

"I wrapped it, since I couldn’t find a brace anywhere. By the way, isn't that Eraserhead's scarf?" A glance where she’s looking shows you that yes, that is Eraserhead's scarf and yes, he had forgotten it when he left. Clearly he left it in the corner out of the way so it didn't get tangled in anything, but in the process of being in an unfamiliar house he forgot it in its corner.

"I guess I'll just have to take it to him, then. He can't go out doing hero work without his primary weapon." Rika taps through her phone and a number is dialed, and you hear her side of the conversation.

"Hi, yes I'm calling to ask about getting in contact with Pro Hero Eraserhead? I've got his scarf here, I'd appreciate it if you could give him a message. Yes. Okay, I'll hold." She must have found a public call number for UA or something.

"Yes I'm still here. Hello, Eraserhead! Oh, perfect! Yes the number is..." She actually rattles off your personal phone number, giving it to presumably the underground hero himself. Of course, she does it with a sly wink in your direction which you return with an eye roll.

"Oh yes she'll be in the cafe tonight. For sure! I'll let her know. Alrighty, bye bye now." The call ended there and you can't help but sigh at her.

"Let me guess, he's coming to pick it up tonight and I'm bringing it down to the cafe for him?" She nods enthusiastically, a mischievous smile gracing her lips.

"You're welcome, you now have Eraserhead's number." Well, technically not yet. Just then your phone buzzes with a text message from an unknown number. 'Looks like I forgot something. Sorry about that.' Well, you stand corrected.

"Yeah yeah, quit tryna play matchmaker. Come help me up, will you? I gotta piss."

Rika stays a few more hours before leaving, not without triple-checking that you feel okay. You swear her voice was playing on a broken record with the amount of times she'd asked if you were sure you were alright. You change your bandages before getting ready for your shift, eating some dinner, popping some ibuprofen, and making your way down the stairs with the scarf in hand and a small brace on your ankle. It isn't long before the man is walking through the door in that jumpsuit of his, waving lazily at you with measured footsteps. He looks much better, now that his wounds are probably almost completely healed.

"Welcome back. You forgot this." You hold out the fabric, looped over your hand neatly. He takes it and slips it over his head in one smooth motion, letting it settle around his neck where it belongs.

"Thank you. Didn't realize I'd left it." You laugh at that, but it puts pressure on your wound and you wince. His expression turns sour, having caught the action.

"Are you alright?" You nod, breathing slowly to ease the ache.

"Oh I'm fine. You want a coffee for the road?" He doesn't comment on the change of subject, but accepts the offer for coffee. You can feel his eyes on you as you work on the beverage, and you can only hope he doesn't notice your tiny limp and the way you favor one side of your body. Handing it to him is easy, and he bids you a farewell without any further questions, though he does mention he'll be back in about six hours to visit again. That's not unusual, it would be the end of his hero shift and he'd be back for another coffee.

So, you spend the next six hours as per the usual. You change out the bandages once more, and being on your feet and moving around is helping to distract from the pain. There aren't many patrons so late, but the few you do get are more underground heroes or construction workers on the night shift, and sometimes the odd college student coming in for a quick pick-me-up to study. None of them stay, and so you're left biding your time by cleaning or restocking however you can in your state. Unfortunately, you'd bent down to wipe out a fridge a bit too sharply, a bit too swiftly. The sharp pain made you groan, the small pop you’d felt meant you'd torn a stitch. You stayed bent over until the throb ebbed away, then slowly righted yourself, only to see Shouta striding through the door, concern written all over his face. He doesn't give you a chance to greet him.

"Don't tell me you're okay, cause I just watched you doubled over behind the counter clutching your side. What happened?" Damn, caught red handed. You sigh, there's no use lying at this point.

"So...don't be mad and don't feel guilty." A single eyebrow lifts on his face, but he waits for your explanation.

"My quirk has some...drawbacks. I healed your wounds, but they transferred to my body in exchange." He seems frozen, blinking slowly at you as you stand there waiting for something.

"Okay, you're never allowed to use it on me again. Now, are you alright? Do you need medical attention?" You explain everything, and he's only satisfied when you agree to let him assist you to re-stitch the wound you'd just opened. He didn't take no for an answer. The store is locked up once again, and you both make your way up to the apartment. You've got everything set up and you peel away the gauze and bandages to reveal the wound. Surprisingly, it isn't that bad. You heal faster than the average person, so the bleeding is minimal now and the torn stitch can be replaced with a few steri-strips.

"These stitches are very clean. You did these yourself?"

"Yeah. I ended up teaching myself to suture wounds because I used to use my quirk recklessly. I needed to stitch myself up a lot, or I'd be spending a whole lot of time in the hospital. I took a few low-level medical classes, watched videos, took free online courses. I'm no surgeon, but I get by fine." He nods, then gingerly cleans and applies the bandages. The heat from his fingers makes you shiver just a little, every time he brushes against the skin on your stomach you can’t help but hold your breath. He’s so close, you can see the pinch in his brow while he concentrates on the wound, so careful not to hurt you. 

"I really wish you'd told me about this, I would have stayed today and helped." You can't help but smile at his sweet words.

"That's very kind of you. But it's alright. Like I said, I used to have to do this all the time." He scoffs, not pulling his attention away from the dressings.

"I still would have stayed. You may not have saved my life last night but it sure as hell helped me a lot more than a normal hospital visit. Your healing was the next best thing to Recovery Girl's. And what about the little healing bit you gave me earlier? Will that affect you too?"

"Nah, I put so little in your coffee it would only speed up your healing by a fraction. It probably acted as a painkiller more than anything, so I won't feel any side effects from it." Satisfied with that answer, he nods and finishes with your wound. Both of you clean up and make your way to the couch, and Shouta decides you're not allowed to get up at all for the rest of the night. He's got water, a snack, your phone, and the tv remote all sat on the coffee table within your reach. What a doting man.

"So I'm guessing you got that mild ankle sprain as well." Damn.

"Yeah. But it's not as bad as yours probably was." He nods, remembering how you explained your transferred wounds were less severe. He sits in silence, staring at you, clearly contemplating something. You don't pressure him to spit it out, if he really wants to say something he'll say it. So, you switch on the tv and put on an old slice-of-life/comedy anime you'd already watched ten times. It's soothing background noise. Shouta's voice cuts through the characters flitting around on screen.

"You knew you'd take all of my wounds, you knew you'd be dealing with bad injuries. Why would you do that to yourself, just to keep me conscious? I mean, I wasn't going to die, at most I'd pass out but between the medics and you keeping pressure on the gash I'd definitely live. So why put yourself through his kind of pain?" It takes you a moment to form your response. Truly, you hadn't thought about it like that before. Whenever you use your healing it's a spur-of-the-moment, split-second decision. You'd always just dealt with the consequences afterward.

"I guess I can't help it. I've always just done it, and said 'fuck it, I'll suck it up later'. Maybe it's because I know for sure that I won't die no matter how bad the injuries, and there's no way to know if the victim were to survive. Maybe I can't help wanting to help them, help you. I've always been a sucker for that kind of thing." He regards you for a long moment.

"If your quirk didn't cause you personal harm you'd make an amazing healing hero." It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind more than a few times. If only.

“Yeah. The only other problem is that I’ve never tried to heal more than one person at a time. I’ve never really needed to. So I have no idea how that would turn out.” He nods in agreement. 

“How long will it take for that gash to heal?” That’s a good question. 

“Maybe two more days? It shouldn’t scar either, most of them don’t.” Another nod. He sits in silence then, turning his attention to the anime you’d put on, the characters delving into ridiculous and hilarious situations. Your eyes begin to droop, and you don’t know when you fall asleep, but when you wake up the sun is filtering through the window. The window that’s in your bedroom. You’re in your bed, not the couch, and your ankle has been rewrapped and the dressings for your stitches have been changed. Somehow you hadn’t woken up, but the thought that he’d cared enough to change your gauze and ankle wrap had warmth settling in your chest. Slowly, you make your way out to your kitchen and find a note stuck on the fridge.

‘I made tuna onigiri. See you tonight for my coffee.’ A grin tugs at your mouth and you heat the onigiri in the microwave. It tastes good, the tuna seasoned well and the rice cooked perfectly. Somewhere in the back of your mind you find yourself excited to see the hero, his company welcome and wanted during your long-winded midnight shifts. He’s coming back tonight, and you make a mental note to not let him pay for that coffee, and also to thank him for last night. After your small breakfast you get ready for the day and head down to the cafe for a drink. Rika’s face fills your vision and her shit-eating grin makes you weary of what she’s about to say.

“Someone’s happy this morning. What’s got you all giddy today? A certain pro-hero, perhaps?” You roll your eyes and turn away from her, ignoring the warmth pooling in your cheeks.

“I’m not giddy.”

“Uh huh.” You shoot a half-hearted glare at her.

“I’m not. But he did come up last night and helped with my bandages. And a few other things.” Her hands clamp down on your shoulders and turn you around to face her, making you jump with the strength she’d gathered.

“Ok, my shift ends in half an hour and you’re telling me everything.” Of course she’d wanna hear it.

“Yeah yeah, you can come grocery shopping with me.” She nods, and you disappear back into your apartment to wait for her. It’s not long, you head down just as she’s clocking out and you both begin the walk to the supermarket down the street. You relay the entirety of last night’s events, all the way up to you waking up and she can’t stop giggling and squealing in her excitement. 

“UGH he’s just so dreamy isn't he? The whole thing is so romantic, carrying you to bed, dressing your wounds…girl you’re out here living the dream.” 

“Whatever. He’s a hero, he was probably just doing what he thought was best. Nothing more.” She actually laughs, hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“Oh hell no, you're not rationalizing this away. I can understand the wound dressing, but everything else was extra effort he definitely did not need to put in. He could have easily put a blanket over you on the couch, he didn’t need to carry you to bed, and he definitely didn’t need to make you breakfast especially when he didn’t stay the night.” For a moment, you let yourself dream that he hadn’t done all that he had because of his moral compass as a hero.

“Yeah, but I’m not banking on it. You may think he’s interested in me romantically, but he might not be. For now, I’m just going to let things play out.” She sighs, her shoulders slumping a little.

“Yeah, that’s the smartest thing to do. No use jumping the gun, huh?”

“Exactly. Now, where’s my grocery list?” Digging into your pocket you pull out the little note with all your necessities, and successfully find all of them in stock. The rest of the day is spent in your apartment talking about random things, Shouta being one of them. You allow yourself to indulge in the thoughts Rika put in your head. Dates and kisses and holding hands, you let your mind conjure what the hero could be like in a romantic setting. He seems to be a gentleman, clearly he’s not one to just take whatever he’s given and run with it. Not to mention even though he’s just an acquaintance right now he’d gone above and beyond to care for you last night. 

Rika departs and you get ready for your shift, only a little bit excited to see Shouta tonight. He may not be romantically interested in you, but that’s okay, you’re just happy you get to spend a few minutes together as always. The cafe empties out around 7, the sun having just set and the street lights making the street glow orange. The lights in the cafe are warm and cozy, and a light drizzle has made a chill settle in the air. It’s a warm drink night, you decide, and steam some apple juice with caramel syrup for your own personal enjoyment. A dash of cinnamon completes the flavor profile, making the drink reminiscent of apple pie. It warms you from the inside out, and you decide you’d make a sample for him to taste. This kind of deliciousness may be exceedingly sweet, but it’s always worth sharing and tasting, if only for the nostalgia of the sweet treat. Shouta shows up soon after, and you hand him both his coffee and the sample.

“It’s pretty sweet, but I think every once in a while sweet doesn’t hurt.” He takes it, and sips it carefully. He’s hit by the sugar rush first, you can tell, but when it wears off he hums and takes another sip.

“This tastes like a dessert I’ve had before…apple pie?” With a grin, you nod.

“Yes! I’m glad you recognized it!” Another hum, another sip, and you take a sip of your own as it cools slowly. You have to make yourself a glass of water to chase it, the sweetness settling on your tongue a little too heavily. You offer him one as well, and he takes it.

“You ready for your patrol tonight?”

“As ready as always. Shouldn’t be anything too crazy, the crime rate has been steadily declining so hopefully nothing wild like the other night.” You reach over and lay your knuckles on the wooden cabinets, knocking three times. Knocking on wood is a habit you’d picked up from your mother. One of his eyebrows raise at the action, but you just shrug.

“Never hurts. Better to cover your bases, I would hate to think you jinxed yourself just by saying it out loud.” He chuckles, then heads for the door.

“Well thanks, it’s nice to know someone’s looking out for the heroes.” He’s out the door and gone before you can get a reply or a goodbye out. In his absence you spend your time cleaning and restocking, experimenting with drink flavor combinations, drink and food combinations, and reorganizing pieces of the cafe that you feel need to be changed or improved. A few customers come and go, one college student sticks around with a laptop and headphones but leaves after a couple of hours. The chalkboard on the wall is outdated, so you take the time to wipe it down and begin to think up a new design and another promotional item to put up. That apple pie drink could work, with the fall season coming up, and pairing it with a more savory pastry item could work. Maybe a cream cheese danish, or a cinnamon bagel. Shouta walks in just as you finish up the board.

“I’m partial to the cinnamon bagel, but that’s just because I like cinnamon.” You grin, collecting your chalk pens and taking a step back to admire your board. You’d outdone yourself. 

“Cinnamon is pretty great. I’m assuming your patrol went smoothly?” You return behind the counter, already prepping to make his usual coffee.

“Yeah, nothing special.” He tugs his goggles off his face and lets them sit around his neck, the fabric of his scarf swallowing up the oddly shaped yellow piece. 

“Well that’s good then, less healing for me to do.” You smile, and he returns one, and when you hand him his coffee he sticks around in the cafe for a little while. He points out the little things you’d changed, the new placement of the tables and the rearranged beanbags in the corner. 

“How often do you change things around here? I’ve never noticed the beanbags.”

“Eh, whenever I feel like it, I guess. I don’t tend to leave things for more than a few months at a time. But the beanbags have always been there, just tucked away in the corner hidden behind the booth. I kept a little alcove there for larger groups, there’s an old couch as well as a large coffee table for the occasional board game night. Every Friday a group comes in to play DnD and they like the area, so it doesn’t go unused.” He nods, taking in all of the details of the cafe that he hadn’t before. He decides to take a seat in one of the beanbags, his eyes fluttering shut as he sinks. You can’t help but giggle at him, he must be tired.

“When do you even sleep? Between midnight patrols and school, when do you find the time?” He hums from his spot, not bothering to open his eyes.

“I have a sleeping bag I take with me to school. I take naps between classes and weekends are a godsend.” 

“Geez, that sounds awful. Naps during the week and only getting a full night’s rest during the weekends? How are you still functioning?” One of those bloodshot eyes peek open.

“Mostly you.” You’re sure he doesn’t mean it the way it came out, but the initial shock of the statement makes you blink at him dumbly.

“I meant the coffee. You’re my caffeine dealer.” His chuckle is tired and slow, chest jumping with the sound. Yeah, that’s what you figured he meant.

“Well I’m happy to help.” Silence falls, and you allow him the peace while you busy yourself with whatever menial tasks you can find to do. You’re almost startled when you hear a soft snore come from the corner, and a peek shows you that he’s sound asleep, his mouth having fallen open just the tiniest bit with his head leaning to one side. He must be constantly exhausted to have fallen asleep so quickly. It’s not hard to keep quiet, and you make sure to turn the volume of the music playing through the speakers way down to a light drone. You shift the playlist to something more relaxed, rather than the current high-energy pop, and dim the lights in the lobby to make him at least a little bit more comfortable. It’s hard not to stare at him, he’s so peaceful and looks so much more relaxed when he’s asleep. Your mind dares to conjure an image of his sleeping form stretched across your couch, his head settled in your lap while you thread your fingers into his hair. Or in your bed, with his body on top of yours as he snoozes away, his head tucked into your chest with your fingers massaging his back and neck.

You have to shake the images of domesticity from your brain.

You let him sleep as long as he needs to. It’s a Friday morning, so he definitely has school. It’s 6 am when you make your way over to his still snoring figure. It takes you a moment to figure out just how to wake him up, but when you call his name softly and he doesn’t seem to respond you decide it’s best to see if he’ll respond to touch. Gently, you kneel and lay a hand on his shoulder and call his name again. Still nothing. He must have needed a nap desperately. You squeeze his shoulder this time, letting your thumb rub back and forth over his suit to try to stimulate a response, and his snoring stops while his head lifts from the soft fabric of the beanbag. When his sleepy eyes meet yours you give him a soft smile.

“Good morning sleepy head. It’s 6 o’clock, I figured you’d need to get home and get ready for school.” He blinks and rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the heel of his palm.

“How long was I out?” 

“A couple hours. It was a small nap, but I think you needed it.” You follow him when he stands, and he makes his way toward the door when you stop him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Shouta, if you ever need to sleep that badly again my place is always open.” He opens his mouth to say something but you hold up a hand.

“I know, ‘you could never impose like that, blah blah blah’. No, I’m genuinely worried for you at this rate. Nobody can get away with that little sleep so frequently. So my offer stands, and I implore you to take it. You already spend so much time here, and the commute back and forth from here to wherever you live eats away at your sleep time.” His mouth snaps shut, and he stays silent for a long while. 

“I’ll think about it.” That’s better than nothing, you suppose.

“Good.” He throws a wave over his shoulder, holds the door open for the three covering the morning shift, then he’s gone in a flash. Your three coworkers eye you suspiciously, one actually nudging you with his shoulder and leaning close.

“So, Eraserhead, huh? Didn’t know you were into pros.” You hit him lightly on the shoulder, scoffing and rolling your eyes.

“Oh shut it, Shun. He’s a regular, he’s just never stayed this late.” One blonde eyebrow rises, his arms crossing over his chest with a pop of his hip.

“Right. And I’m supposed to believe there’s nothing more going on when you’re smiling like that when he leaves?” 

“Smiling like what? I’m not smiling any different!” You swear you aren’t.

“That’s bs and you know it. You like him.” With an eye roll, you flip him off and make your way up the stairs.

“Clock in and get to work. Morning rush is coming soon.” His laugh can be heard from the top step, and he shouts after you.

“You know I’m right!” The door is shut swiftly after that, and you have to take a seat on the couch to steady your racing heart. Sure, you dare to imagine him in a romantic setting, and sometimes you find your mind wandering about what it’d be like to live with the man. And maybe sometimes you think about him while he’s out and about, wondering what he’s doing with his day or night. Even just a few hours ago you were conjuring images of him asleep in your bed. 

Shun is right. You like him. A lot.

You have to take a deep breath and clear your mind, then get ready for bed. This was not something you had to hash out right now, this little crush needed to stay way in the back of your brain for the time being. Regardless of how you feel, Shouta is still a dear acquaintance, dare you say almost a friend, and you can’t risk whatever your current relationship is with the man just because of a crush. You don’t sleep once you’re in bed, it takes you some time to actually sift through all the thoughts in your head, but you do eventually succumb.

[sweetheartsaku]

༄ MISSION: OUR SUMMER― looking out for you

𝜗𝜚 ―H.KAI 【휴닝카이】 VERSION || NIGHT EDITION.

HE SWORE HIS HEART BEATS TRIPLE WHEN HE SEES YOU. hyuka was seated on his thick blanket he had cleanly prepared, turning to his bedside table to check the time. 9:53am. his eyes trailed to the side, towards a photograph of you and kai as kids at a park, doing peace signs and smiling as bright as the sun.

he tenderly smiles at the sight of the pair, an inseparable duo since kindergarten. like two peas in a pod.

his chocolate eyes draw over back to his bed and his crisp sheets. he looks up, his attention lingering to the guitars on the wall. 2 acoustic, one electric.

the beige body of the first acoustic was decorated in colourful, dried stickers and the neck sprinkled in star stickers representing the simple notes. it had built up some wear and tear because it was his childhood guitar that was always a little too big for him. 6-year-old hyuka loved to perform little concerts for you and his siblings.

he had received his second acoustic on his 13th birthday, and immediately fell in love with it. the body had significantly less stickers than the last, a new edition of a scratched up with a silver tuner clipped to the top. 13-year-old hyuka thought he was the coolest boy in town. he had written so many songs about you unconsciously on it, holding this guitar close to his heart

the latest guitar was the cleanest, an electric guitar that you had bought him a couple years before. it was a sleek mint, your attempt to find a cute colour yet one he'd love. he treasured all his instruments, but especially this one... had sentimental value.

snapping from his dash of nostalgia, his nintendo switch chirps. he quickly glances at his keyboard and other trinkets in his room, before taking his switch out of the station with a click. it was daintily decorated, with a small lyric in the corner; "you got a smile that could light up the whole planet!" from tyler the creator's 'SWEET / I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO DANCE'.

his switch trills as he turns it on, scrolling through his recently played games and landing on animal crossing new horizons. he logs on, noticing you're online and working on your island. he remembers the last time he had come over; you both had been villager hunting.

something in his head suddenly clicks, and he remembers he had left his childhood cd over at your home. he abruptly gets up, obliviously forgetting to change his clothes (it's not like it matters).

kai forgetting items at your house was a common occurrence and was an innocent excuse to spend time with you. his hoodie in the winter, scarf in fall, and hat in spring.

he hops on his bike, taking a short trip to your home. the warm summer wind bites his cheek and grazes his actively moving shins. he feels the occasional breeze press against his loose, white t-shirt and grey shorts.

hyuka finally arrives at your house, no hesitation in gently knocking on your door. your gaze meets his as you slowly open the door, surprised at his unannounced visit despite this being a quite typical and natural event. you instantly smile.

"HYUKA!!" you exclaim, pulling him into an embrace and gesturing him into your home. he quickly accepts your hug, slightly damp from the summer heat. he finds his natural spot on the right corner of your low-set bed, taking in the comforting and nostalgic fragrance of your room. posters everywhere, stringed with fairy lights, and photos of you and your friends in every corner.

there's a mini music player in the corner, playing songs off your shared playlist with kai. which is where he got the lyric on his nintendo station from, the words written on the cd that he was here to collect, and caption of your instagram biography.

you take a seat right next to him, still curious on what brings him here this time. "here to pick up the cd you left?"

"mhm!" he chimes.

you find yourself lost through time in the endless pillow talk, his words simply igniting one after another. in your own little world, that only you two shared. you both had an enchanting, entrancing mind that people struggle to even imagine.

the mini music player clears up the magical fog in both you and hyuka's ears, making one lyric clear.

"if i compared you, the sun is a stand in."

you were like his comfort zone. a comfortable presence,

a hand to hold.

TAGLIST: @hyukassubi @lun4kazumii

[firendgold]

Since I saw that you're doing the violence ask game can you answer 22, 25 and 7??

I sure can.~

This one got long af though, so another readmore.

(still choosing violence)

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

This is another one I've answered already, but tbf... it was yesterday. So I can pull my second favorite part of canon instead so you don't have to re-read an older answer.

There's two moments that tie: one in year 5 and one in year 6. Year 5's moment is a nice warm-and-fuzzy "the trio are such good friends" scene, in the midst of Umbridge torturing Harry with her quill:

It was nearly midnight when Harry left Umbridge’s office that night, his hand now bleeding so severely that it was staining the scarf he had wrapped around it. He expected the common room to be empty when he returned, but Ron and Hermione had sat up waiting for him. He was pleased to see them, especially as Hermione was disposed to be sympathetic rather than critical. “Here,” she said anxiously, pushing a small bowl of yellow liquid toward him, “soak your hand in that, it’s a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles, it should help.” Harry placed his bleeding, aching hand into the bowl and experienced a wonderful feeling of relief. Crookshanks curled around his legs, purring loudly, and then leapt into his lap and settled down. “Thanks,” he said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks’s ears with his left hand. “I still reckon you should complain about this,” said Ron in a low voice. “No,” said Harry flatly. “McGonagall would go nuts if she knew—” “Yeah, she probably would,” said Harry. “And how long d’you reckon it’d take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?” Ron opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out and after a moment he closed it again in a defeated sort of way. “She’s an awful woman,” said Hermione in a small voice. “Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in . . . we’ve got to do something about her.” “I suggested poison,” said Ron grimly.

Just seeing the trio bounce off each other is soothing (especially after reading days or weeks worth of fanfics where they all suddenly hate each other or were never really that good of friends or whatever). Harry's gratitude and stubbornness, Hermione's caretaking and forethought and plotting, Ron's voice of reason and necessary dash of humor... all perfect. Also, just... Harry is so used to going things alone, toughing things out by himself. It's heartwarming and sad that he still doesn't expect Ron and Hermione to do something as simple as waiting up for him to get back from hellish detention. Also also: Crookshanks curling up with him. ^^

Year 6's moment is just between Harry and Hermione:

Hermione stopped dead; Harry had heard it too. Somebody had moved close behind them among the dark bookshelves. They waited and a moment later the vulture-like countenance of Madam Pince appeared round the corner, her sunken cheeks, her skin like parchment and her long hooked nose illuminated unflatteringly by the lamp she was carrying. ‘The library is now closed,’ she said. ‘Mind you return anything you have borrowed to the correct – what have you been doing to that book, you depraved boy?’ ‘It isn’t the library’s, it’s mine!’ said Harry hastily, snatching his copy of Advanced Potion-Making off the table as she lunged at it with a clawlike hand. ‘Despoiled!’ she hissed. ‘Desecrated! Befouled!’ ‘It’s just a book that’s been written in!’ said Harry, tugging it out of her grip. She looked as though she might have a seizure; Hermione, who had hastily packed her things, grabbed Harry by the arm and frogmarched him away. ‘She’ll ban you from the library if you’re not careful. Why did you have to bring that stupid book?’ ‘It’s not my fault she’s barking mad, Hermione. Or d’you think she overheard you being rude about Filch? I’ve always thought there might be something going on between them …’ ‘Oh, ha, ha …’ Enjoying the fact that they could speak normally again, they made their way along the deserted, lamplit corridors back to the common room, arguing about whether or not Filch and Madam Pince were secretly in love with each other.

Very, very cute scene showing Harry and Hermione getting along casually, something we're not often treated to even in canon. A frankly disturbing amount of fans (particularly fans of A Specific Ship I Will Not Mention Here) have bought into the propaganda that Harry and Hermione aren't really that good of friends just because during GOF, when he'd just experienced his first ever schism with a close friend, Harry privately confessed to missing Ron and enjoying the things he did with his male best friend more. The trio is not "Harry and Ron, then Ron and Hermione". It's "Harry, Ron, and Hermione"; all three of them are necessary pieces of the whole. Harry and Hermione's friendship is different than Harry's with Ron, but it's no less valuable, and not any weaker, or else Hermione wouldn't have stayed in that damned tent.

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

Every bit of discourse about Sirius not getting a trial. We know. The injustice is the point. The cruelty is the point. The POINT is to show that wizarding Britain is glitz and glamor and not all that fair to its marginalized peoples and underclass, you nimrods. Frankly, the fanfics that purport to 'fix' it by giving Sirius his "restored Lordship" or a bunch of seats on the Wizengamot or immediate "wizarding guardianship" over Harry or some unnamed hot babes for him to fuck on or off-screen are very... shallow and unsatisfying. Either that or they give him a bunch of money, though this would at least be on brand for the Ministry. But like... yeah. I'm tired of this complaint always going in the same direction and not being a gateway to Greater Commentary On The Series and the World. Because it's not like Sirius and/or Harry become the type of people who rebel against this ideology. If anything, they embrace the pureblood nonsense in a lot of these fics and are just mad that Sirius was the target that one time. Gaaaah.

And, and. Every bit of discourse about Dumbledore leaving Harry at the Dursleys and/or the sacrificial lamb throwaway line by Snape, especially because 99.9% of people discussing it either haven't read the books, haven't read them since the first time and desperately need a re-read, have only seen the movies, are parroting opinions from some other wrong person on the internet, are all read-up but blatantly ignoring what Dumbledore and Harry say (and don't say) over what they THINK they mean, or some other lovely form of ignorance that leads to the same long-debunked takes being re-introduced as GASP-DID-YOU-EVER-CONSIDER soundbites over and over and over and OVER again. I'm so sick of it.

I get it, JKR's a TERF, you don't want to re-engage with her work, and you don't have to. You don't have to give her any more money. Hell, you shouldn't, ever again. But please, fucking make sure your knowledge is correct and not fandom telephone when it comes to Harry's childhood and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I'm not-even-lowkey sick of some of y'all at this point.

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because of how the fandom acts about them?

I... don't have an immediate answer for this, so I'm going to have to think about it. To you it's only going to take me one line, but for me it'll actually be like... an evening or something.

...

Okay.

This is difficult because (to use the exact terminology) I can't think of a character I've come to hate because of how the fandom acts about them. I definitely have characters whose most popular fanon versions are so irritating or repulsive that it has caused me to look more critically on the real versions of them, though. I guess maybe I'll list those here.

Fleur came to mind first. She seems (and can be) very shallow and haughty in canon at first, but shows compassion and hidden depths in all three of her appearances. She has some veela hair in her wand from her grandmother, and a deep devotion for her younger sister. However... many fanfics (especially harem fanfics or flowerpot fanfics) paint her as either this femme fatale who uses her "veela allure" at will and Cannot Fathom the idea of a man who can resist her (and is thus more vulnerable to falling in love with such a man) or as a super-powerful witch whose family is basically running Magical France (since of course, she is the only French character we know, so why wouldn't she be the most influential person there? /s). Basically, the "foreign" version of what people do to fanon Daphne Greengrass. Ironically, the best fanfic portrayals of Fleur I've seen are the ones that keep her shipped with Bill (with a few flowerpot exceptions, see A Beautiful Lie by MaybeMayba as the prime example), or ship her with Hermione or Ginny... which is sad because I love me some ship variety. (And I still think Bill/Tonks would've been rad as hell.) So I don't dislike canon Fleur, but fanon's "over-attention" to that possible veela heritage and the weird implication that Harry was just "forced" not to notice this perfect woman in his life, rather than just noticing her beauty and not being interested, rubs me the wrong way and disinclines me from including her in many of my own works.

The Bones family is next. Yes, both Amelia and Susan. Susan isn't as bad (I think she has... two lines in Order of the Phoenix? maybe?), but as with most "mostly undefined" HP girls, the personality the fandom has given her (the super sweet politically-savvy Hufflepuff girlfriend of "just do independent!Harry with Lordships and pro-Ministry propaganda and plenty of Wizengamot meetings between Hogwarts classes") is one I've seen so many times it has come to negatively affect my view of the real girl, even though I think the way she calls Amelia "auntie" in canon is adorable. As for Amelia, fanon likes to make her either the Only Sane Man in the Ministry or the leader of the sane faction, who magically is able to fix or ignore all the corruption in said Ministry and can railroad through whatever decisions Harry needs done once he needs to Do Political or Pureblood Stuff Outside of Hogwarts--provided, of course, he's been nice enough to Susan recently.

The closest actual answer to this question I have is Tom Riddle. I didn't like him in canon by any means--I'd probably say I was neutral toward him, just seeing him as "the young Voldemort before he did his magical girl transformation". But fanon kind of acts like he and Voldemort are... two different people? There's these pervasive ideas that either Tom could've been "saved" if Certain People Just Did More (to stop him sneaking around and bullying and murdering???), or that Tom wasn't really so bad when he was gathering up supporters, murdering his family members and the few people who trusted him, and generally going around Becoming the Dark Lord--it was just when he made the switch that he became bad. And like... no. I can't buy that. Even in fanfic, I can't get fully behind the idea of a sane Tom Riddle who was Doing Good until he got sidetracked Oh Nooo. He wasn't. I believe Voldemort was saner before he tried to kill a baby and it backfired, but I don't think there was ever a point where he could have been saved. At every fork he made the wrong decision--to soothe his ego, to feel powerful, to feel special, to feel better than others and make them feel that way too. Tom Riddle's a prick. If anything, we should've seen him squirm a little more before he died.

The last one stings, because it's a character I adore: Hermione. Hermione is a very polarizing figure in canon and always has been, I get it. But what particularly hurts me about her fanon portrayals is that they are VERY SELDOM accurate, or even balanced. Either the author sees her as Their Wife and so she is perfect and never does any wrong and basically becomes the main character of the fic (even if she is not actually the main character), or they overinflate her flaws and use it as a reason to hate on her and bash her to oblivion. There's rarely an in-between. I'm not sure which one is worse. If you held my feet to the fire, I might say the former because a character without any flaws or one who takes over the entire narrative and doesn't let other characters breathe is not fucking interesting to me in the slightest.

This especially hurts because I am a huge Harmony fan and like 60% of bad Harmony fanfics are always the same fucking tropes/plotlines. Hermione is unironically referred to as The Brightest Witch of THE Age (incorrect, not what Remus said. he said "the brightest witch of your age I've ever met", basically meaning she's unusually smart for a fourteen year-old girl). She's treated like the next female Dumbledore who has all the answers (even about stuff she wouldn't know) and often guides Harry's every move.

And speaking of Dumbledore--the same girl who is supportive of him in canon and (after Harry) is MOST likely to recognize Dumbledore as a human who can make mistakes is ALWAYS turned into a Dumbledore Skeptic Who Has Been Suspicious of His Motives All Along, and who will do whatever it takes to get her boyfriend away from his manipulations... by taking manipulative!Dumbledore's place. That's right. This version of fanon Hermione ALWAYS becomes the same thing the author is supposedly railing against, because Harry becomes her mouthpiece, spends all his time with her to the exclusion of anyone else, and can't have a single meeting or meaningful scene with any other character unless she is also present.

Haphne fics do this too, but I swear they got it from bad Harmony fics and it makes me so mad. For once, I would love to read a Harmony fic where Dumbledore is portrayed accurately and both Harry AND Hermione are equal, independent partners who don't have panic attacks if separated for more than five minutes. Especially because as a child Hermione never struck me as the kind of person who even would get married or have a serious relationship distracting her from her Great Work!

But yeah. That last one hurts the most because I love Hermione as an individual, as the very important third of the trio, as a potential partner for Harry (though this isn't the right blog for that!), and just as an iconic character.

I... think that's all? Yep. Thanks~!

[astaroth1357]

I don’t know if this’ll make the cut, but brothers with an MC wearing their (the brothers) clothes, and I’m talking full ensemble not just a random jacket or accessory (you can delete if you’re not comfortable of course)

So when left with the question of whether this was a full on clothing theft or a cosplay of some kind, I'm going with theft because that's just funnier to me. Just a little MC marching around in Beel's tent of an outfit… Hilarious. 🤭

MC Steals the Brothers’ Outfits

Lucifer 

It started out like any other morning, Lucifer woke up early in bed - as he always does - but when he rolled onto his side to stir the MC, he found their side of the bed empty… 

Normally, he’d have thrown up the alarm in an instant, but his mind was still groggy as he tried to recall what happened the night before… He could have sworn the MC slept over… unless…

MC: “Good morning, love.”

Their voice was enough to get him sitting up again and he uh… well he was not prepared for what he saw. The MC was sitting with their legs crossed at his desk, attempting to imitate his “I’m-in-Complete-Control-Here” energy as much as they possibly could, but with an added detail…

They were wearing his clothes. His favorite suit to be specific which was tailored to his much bigger frame, resulting in a frankly ridiculously ill-fitting look on their smaller human body...

MC: *picks up a poisoned apple off the desk, continuing their very best Lucifer-impression*  “You should get up, love. We have an early meeting today and we can’t keep Lord Diavolo waiting.”

The MC appeared to polish the apple with his sleeve for a moment before taking a bite, looking pleased with themselves before their eyes widened in complete horror. It only took a split second for them to spit the unchewed hunk of apple into a nearby waste basket and toss the apple away in panic.

MC: “Ah FUCK!! I forgot I can’t eat these!!! SHIT!!”

Their panic only grew as Lucifer could no longer hold in his laughter, the booming volume of which is enough to wake up all his brothers throughout the House.

MC: “Lucifer, don’t just sit there laughing!! Bring me some water or something!!! LUCIFER!!!”

Mammon

Look, Mammon always gets up late so not being able to find, like, any of his normal clothes was a serious problem! He’d already dug through half his closest and still couldn’t find anything!!

He had a photoshoot that he had to get to in less than hour and he still needed to take a shower, get dressed, get his stuff together, then bolt halfway across town before-

MC: *literally kicks open his door Kuzco-style* “Yo, yo, yo!! What’s up, Mammon??”

First off, the sudden loud bang of his door hitting the wall nearly scared him out of his skin, but before he could even yell at the MC for their weird entrance his brain had to process what they were wearing….

Good news! He found his missing clothes, the MC had thrown them on while he was sleeping - sunglasses and all - and now stood before him with a toothy grin on their face.

MC: “What's the problem, Mams? Lucifer got your tongu-EEEK!”

Apparently, they weren't expecting Mammon to literally lunge at them and capture them in a tight hug, practically lifting them off their feet with a laugh.

Mammon: “What'cha think your doin', MC?? I'm gonna need those back ya know?”

MC: *laughs loud and bright, throwing their arms around his neck* “I know, I know... But I wanted to surprise you!” *stops laughing suddenly and blinks* “Huh…”

Mammon watched the MC experimentally lift his glasses off their nose then put them back down, repeating the action several times before snickering.

Mammon: *frowns* “What's so funny?”

MC: “Nothing really but… Mammon, do you wear these just to make everything look like gold?”

Mammon actually had to pause before responding, pulling the MC closer with a devilish grin.

Mammon: “Nah… I ‘cause got all the gold I need right here~”

MC: *chuckles and nuzzles his cheek* “Nice save...”

Mammon: *his cheeks flush and he frowns* “I dunno what your talkin’ about... But could ya go put on a t-shirt or somethin’? They’re paying me big for this shoot and I really gotta go!”

Leviathan 

Another convention, another cosplay far too complex to ever hope to peel out of… Though Levi would never regret wearing his five piece Lord of Shadow cosplay, it’s a heavy thing and certainly not something he can change out of in a bathroom stall…

When he finally got back to the House, he wasn’t looking to do anything but drag his tired body back to his room and change into some more manageable clothes… but… well…

When Levi opened his door, he saw the MC sitting alone at his computer desk playing a game by themselves. That was all well and good but… WHY IN DIAVOLO’S BLACK HELL ARE THEY WEARING HIS CLOTHES???

When they heard the door, the MC whipped their head back and they both stared at each other in an awkward silence… His clothes didn’t even fit them right!-or maybe they did?? His mind was panicking because they had the collar of his shirt covering their mouth and it looked so moe it was actually ridiculous!

Levi: ……….

MC: ………….

MC: …. “I can explain.”

Levi: ……. “Y-yea?”

MC: “I was having trouble on this one level and you wouldn’t pick up the phone… so I thought ‘What would Levi do?’... and it escalated…”

Levi: “You think??”

Levi felt like he could die right there, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it was from embarrassment or happiness… On the one hand, the MC was  literally trying to be him in order to get better at video games - which was flatteringly adorable… And on the other, the MC is pretty much cosplaying as him, right in front of him… and looked so damn cute doing it too… 

MC: “Is this weird…? This is weird. I’m sorry, I’ll go change-”

Levi: NO-agh! *he throws a hand over his own mouth, surprised by how loud he just shouted* … “U-uh… no it’s fine…”

MC: “Okay...?”

MC: “But could you put your phone down? I think you’ve been taking pictures for the past two minutes…”

Levi looked down at his hand and sure enough he unconsciously pulled out his phone in camera mode and has been spamming the “Capture” button long enough to have his thumb cramping...

Levi: “Oh.” *stops for a moment, then seems to second guess himself*

Levi: “Uh… just one more?”

Satan

When you share a house with Mammon, you grow accustomed to not being able to find things from time to time, but an entire outfit?? 

When he woke up one morning to find that he couldn't find any of his normal clothes, he blamed Mammon right off the bat… 

I guess in hindsight, what would Mammon want with his jacket? But anger doesn't always jump to the most rational conclusion, you know?

After searching for "long enough," Satan stormed out of his bedroom on a warpath. He didn't stop his march until he was banging on Mammon’s door with a closed fist!

Satan: “Mammon!! What did you do with my clothes you useless, money-grubbing asshole!?”

When he didn’t get a reply, likely because Mammon was hiding in his closet or something, he was about to kick the door in when he felt a tap on his shoulder...

When he turned his head, much to his surprise, he found his missing clothes!... They were on the MC - right down to the single sleeve - and the MC met his eyes with a mischievous grin…

They had a book in their hands he recalled seeing once at the library: "101 Ways to Prank Your Partner," open like they'd been reading down the hallway.

MC: … Page 47.

They winked at him before bolting back down the hallway in a fit of giggles and oooh, it was on now.

Satan spent the morning chasing the MC through the House, both laughing and dashing around in reckless abandon. He really needed his clothes back and he wouldn’t mind an extra hour or two with the MC when he got them… 😏

Asmodeus 

Asmo isn’t exactly a morning person… Though he forces himself awake so he can perform his wake-up routine, by the time he comes to the table it’s a hit-or-miss on how irritable he’s going to be...

Of course, his favorite outfit suddenly disappearing from his massive closet did not help his mood in the slightest!

Who would take his clothes?? Well, that’s not even a question - surely plenty of his devoted, adoring stans would kill to even have his scarf, so maybe the better question was, “How??” Lucifer keeps all the doors and windows magically sealed at night! (He would know, having been locked out on numerous occasions)

Asmo was tearing through his closet, wracking his brain for any place he might have left his beloved outfit, before he heard someone clear their throat by his bedroom door.

What greeted him was a lovely look at the MC wearing the missing clothing in question, even with all the grace and style he would himself!

Asmo: *jaw-drops* “MC???”

MC: *smirks at his delight and winks at him* “Looking for something?”

They strutted into the room with the confidence of a mock fashion model and took a silly vogue pose in front of the closet, barely holding in a fit of laughter from their actions.

MC: “… Or just at me?”

Asmo, of course, snatched them right up in his arms with a delighted squeal.

Asmo: “Oh. My. Diavolo!! MC, you look just gorgeous!!!- Because you look like me, of course.” 🤭

MC: *laughs and cups his cheeks to pull him closer* “Who wouldn't want to be you, Asmo?”

Asmo: “So true… But you’re already perfect, my love~” 😘

And he went on to prove that to them all morning long...

Beelzebub 

Beel didn't even get the chance to notice his clothes were missing. He had a tournament the night before and was sleeping even harder than Belphie that morning...

What woke him up was the smell of food: scrambled shadowhawk eggs, hellboar bacon, pancakes with nightshade syrup…. 

Beel's stomach had him sitting up long before his eyes ever opened, drawn in by his nose alone.

MC: “Beeeeel. Wake up!”

Beel's eyes dragged open at their request and what he found had his mouth watering... The MC had brought him a dining cart with a complete breakfast spread, brimming with portions only Beel could ever finish, but for once he wasn’t looking at the food.

The MC, for whatever reason, had decided to put on his clothes… And keep in mind that Beel's built like an ox compared to almost anybody. They were absolutely swimming under all that fabric (thank the Devil for his suspenders…) 

MC: “Congratulations!!!”

They throw their arms up excitedly, making the unzipped jacket balloon out like a parachute behind them… It's a remarkably cute image.

Beel: *blinks* “Oh.” *he gets a little pink, still very confused* “What did I do exactly…?”

MC: “You won the championship last night, remember? Or did you forget already??”

The MC takes a step to the side and begins pointing at the plates on the cart.

MC: “I thought we'd celebrate with some breakfast! I brought you eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, cereal-”

As they continued their list, Beel's hand naturally reached out towards the cart eagerly, before something finally clicked in his head. WHY were they wearing his clothes??

Beel: “Wait. MC, why are you wearing-...?”

MC *holds their hand up* “Hold on!”

MC: “-oatmeal, muffins, banana bread, annnd…” *they get onto the bed and plop down onto his lap with a grin*

MC: “Me! Congratulations, Beel!!”

They lean up to peck his cheek while his arms automatically wind around their waist. The combination of their scents already bringing out a different sort of hunger in him…

Let’s say if this is his reward, he'll never lose a game again. 😏

Belphegor 

Belphie was in the middle of his afterschool nap in the library. The day was exhausting, so he didn’t even bother changing uniforms… The couches there were comfortable and the space was quiet, really nothing should have woken him up...

But somehow, for whatever reason, something did. A tug… Something was chasing away his dreams by tugging on the cow pillow in his arms.

MC: “Beeelllppphie….”

The tugging did not cease and he half growled in response, still keeping his eyes firmly closed.

Belphie: “What now...?”

MC: “I need this…” *they tug on the corner of the pillow a little harder* “Can you let go please…?”

What kind of question is that?? No one takes away his favorite pillow!

Belphie: *hugs the pillow tighter* “Go away, I'm trying to nap…”

MC: “Noooo please…! I need it for something right now…!!”

They started really pulling on his pillow now and he only held on tighter in annoyance. Since they wouldn’t leave him alone, he finally opened his eyes.

Belphie: “MC! Why are… you..?”

His voice trailed off as he finally saw the MC standing there in his usual outfit. His cardigan was so long over their arms that they had to grasp his pillow through its sleeves...

While his drowsy mind tried to catch up, the MC snatched the pillow from his grasp with one swift yank.

MC: *grins* “Mine now!”

They turned to bolt out of the library, but Belphie snatched them by the waist and dragged them back to the couch with him.

Belphie: “Fine, but then I get a new pillow.” 😏

The MC yelped as he flopped on top of them, pulling them close like a body pillow and resting his head into the crook of their neck to enjoy the soothing smell of their scent mixed with his.

MC: “W-wait Belphie…!” *tries to wiggle out from under his surprisingly heavy deadweight* “I was just playing around…! Please don't fall asleep on me!!”

Belphie: *yawns and settles in, already drifting off* “Too late… G'night, MC…”

MC: “Belphie!!!” 😫

They could complain all they liked, he wasn’t going to let them go for a few hours. Cute or not, MC, nobody takes his pillow!

[luimagines]

Hey it’s the same comfort anon! I really loved what did with the prompt!

If you don’t mind I have another rq 👉👈

RQ: You help them out during an embarrassing situation.

Masterlist

Comfort Anon! My first requester! I’m so glad you enjoyed it. I’m glad you think I did it justice!

I absolutely do not mind that you have another request!

I think I’m going to keep all of them in the same post this time around.

Set platonically and within the group since there wasn’t any specification.

You know the drill! Scenario under the cut!

Twilight

“Wolfie...” You try to fight the grin on your face and fail. “What are you doing?”

Said wolf pauses and stares at you thus beginning an impromptu staring contest.

You had been walking away from the camp to relieve yourself when you spotted familiar looking fur running around. It had sparked your interest so you ventured closer as quietly as you could.

When you reach your furry friend, you feel your face split into a large grin.

Wolfie was running in circles and rolling around the dirt trying to catch his tail.

It naturally amuses you greatly and you decided to watch for a little moment longer before Wolfie had actually managed to catch his tail and had begun chewing on it with fervor.

Realistically, you knew it probably itched and the poor thing was just trying to scratch it in the best way he could.

But it was still so adorably cute!

You ask your question, breaking the moment and try to hide your amusement for the sake of the creatures pride.

You can see the moment when Wolfie sees you. His whole body goes still and he stops chewing himself completely. Wolfie slowly lets his tail out of his mouth, making a small thump against the ground, while never breaking eye contact and waits.

You’re not sure for what but the way he’s staring at you makes you think you weren’t supposed to see what you saw. He looks the equivalent of getting your hand caught in the cookie jar and is trying to see how much trouble he’s going to get in.

It’s makes the whole thing infinitely funnier.

Your giggles escape and the animal begins to lower his head to the ground, ears back and flattened.

You’d dare say he looks embarrassed.

It softens your heart to see Wolfie in such a state so you try to rein in one final snort, fail, and begin to leave. “I’ll... leave you to it, Wolfie. I gotta pee. Have fun with what you’re over there.”

With your back turned, Wolfie gives out a pitiful whine that leaves you snickering until you find a more private spot.

Apparently, this one’s taken. 

Wild

“Wild...” You say, looking upward until your neck hurts. “How do you manage these things? I swear it’s only you who gets into this kind of stuff.”

“I just want to make eggs for breakfast!” He cries in defense. “I’m sorry for trying to do something nice for all of you!”

“Oh no, I get that. It’s this that worries me.” You sigh and try to get step back and assess the situation. Looking up is a little easier with and you’re able to see a better plan of action.

In theory anyway.

Wild, as mentioned, was about to make breakfast and had thus spotted eggs in  a nearby tree. Naturally he wanted to go collect them and feed his friends but there’s one thing he didn’t account on. The mother returned.

That being said, he freaked out enough that he dropped the sheikah slate, nearly fell out of the tree and in the ruckus had also scared away the mother.

He kept the eggs though.

However, when the word nearly is mentioned it’s meant to bring point that he didn’t actually fall out of tree. ...But he still might.

Why?

Because the only reason he didn’t hit the ground head first is because his foot got caught in one of the branches.

So he’s hanging upside down by his ankle and can’t access his tools to even attempt to get out.

This is where you, dear reader, come in.

Wild was actually far enough away and covered by enough foliage that the others haven’t noticed him in this precarious situation. You though, were heading to the creak nearby to wash your face and begin your morning routine.

Wild then yelled just loud enough to catch your attention and had asked for your assistance.

“Are you sure I can’t just get Twilight? Or Time?” You ask him. “I’m sure that one of them can just shake the tree and you’ll be free.”

“NO! Do not! Just-!” He flails around a bit, the branch creaking in protest but doesn’t  budge from the spot. “I get into a lot of stuff but neither of them will ever let me live this down.”

“What about Warrior then? Or Legend? He might have a tool of something to get you out-”

“No one else can know! Why can’t you just help me?” Wild begs.

“I have to say I’m little over my head here.” You admit. “Or rather, you’re a little over my head.”

“Very funny.”

“I think I have an idea but you have to catch yourself.” You grin and begin to move away.

“Just make it quick. All the blood is flowing to my head.”

You jog back to camp and take out your sword. A few more familiar faces are awake now and waiting for their food. 

“Hey,” Wind greets you with a tired smile and a yawn. “Where’s Wild?”

“He’s a little hung up at the moment.” You smile. “I just gotta go help him for a second and he’ll be back.”

Wind takes the answer for what it is, too tired to read too much into it and nods.

You sprint back and grin wildly. “Try to stay out of my way ok?”

“You couldn’t think of any other solution?” Wild nearly whines.

“This is the quickest way. You said make it quick.” You take a breath and run forward. With your momentum to run what you can up the tree and jump. With the added height to turn to where Wild is and swing in his foot’s direction.

With speed and accuracy on your part, you slice the branch that’s been holding him back and the two of you fall to the ground.

Wild dips into a roll and somehow manages to expertly swipe the slate off of the ground as he passes it. You do a similar motion but angle yourself to not come into contact with your blade.

Together you spot each other and grin, small laughs exiting your mouths as you get up.

“Thanks for that.” Wild pats himself off and turns on his heel. “I gotta get breakfast started but I’ll come get you when it’s done, ok?”

You nod and begin to head toward the creek once more, willing to play as if this never happened.

You decide on the way to not tell Wild that the branch is still stuck on his boot though. 

Time

Everyone was in Wild’s house for the day, chilling while they could, since there was little to no activity.

Time had actually retired momentarily to take a nap on Wild’s bed for the afternoon.

It was quiet.

Because the group was afraid to wake up the grumpiest member of the group.

So naturally you wanted to take advantage of the peace and brought your book and sat on the stairs while the boys took over the table and floor.

After a hot minute, you looked up to see that half of the group was gone, haven’t left to do something more chaotic and grinned to yourself.

Behind you the wood of the house creaked under applied pressure. You turned around to look at the cause and saw that Time had woken up from his nap. His eyes were closed and he was mid-yawn as he traveled down the stairs.

You got up from your spot and traveled a few steps to let him pass, but that didn’t happen.

Time hadn’t opened his eye yet and had mis-stepped.

His mistake cost him his pride as he fell down the stairs all the way down to the floor.

“Don’t break a hip old man!” Warrior called out in a laughing voice.

You threw your book onto the table and went to help Time up. “Are you ok?”

“Ow.” He deadpanned and grabbed the railing for good measure. “On top of that, I think I left my shoes up by the bed.”

“I’ll get them” You squeaked around him and dashed up the stairs. In your enthusiasm you over stepped one of the steps and fell up the stairs.

You paused in shame and shock while Warrior lost his battle and started laughing hysterically.

Swallowing the last of your dignity, you dash up the remaining steps and help your friend.

You came back down with an attempt to hold your head up high and held out Time’s shoes out to him. “I think these are yours.”

There was a small smile on his tired face. “Thank you. Are you ok?”

“Yes.” You nod. “I’m fine. Nothing happened. No one saw anything.”

Time snorted and took them from you. “Of course.”

Warrior

It’s was absolutely pouring.

Everyone was wet and there was no shelter in sight. It was dark and loud and everyone still had to continue forward.

No one was happy and everyone was silently fuming at the unideal circumstances.

You were walking next to Warrior, not making eye contact with anyone and you had to stop from commenting that he looked like a drowned rat.

His scarf has no doubt doubled in weight with all the water its absorbed and Warrior kept having to adjust it. It was sagging off of his shoulders and he kept having to adjust it or else it risked falling into the muddied ground.

As time passed Warrior had to continually fix it, and adjust it and he was growing exponentially frustrated with the prospect and was getting fed up with it.

You watched in growing amusement and restrained from offering your help because you were certain that he would snap at you.

In one final moment of baled up frustrations, he threw the scarf in one more lap around his neck and... well... he overjudged the strength needed and it swung all the way around just to smack him right back in his face.

Oh but it didn’t end there.

In his moment of blindness, he mis-stepped and tripped.

He hit the ground on his knees first but kept going, twisting to his side, just missing slamming his face into the mud as well.

You just stop in your tracks and tried your hardest to not laugh.

With hesitant steps, you walked over to Warrior who slowly started to get up.

His entire side was just brown. And Warrior... didn’t bother with showing the emotion on his face.

Just a neutral face of displeasure.

You quickly, helped him to his feet and and began cupping your hands to throw the collected rain water onto him and wipe off the mud.

It’s not helping.

“Not. One. Word.” Warrior takes a deep breath and begins to help you clean himself off.

“Yes, Captain.” You grin and take his hand. “You want me to take the blame? Say I pushed you down or something.”

“It’s fine.” Warrior bites the words as he says them. 

You pass a creek.

With the idea in your head, you shove Warrior hard and he goes right into the water like you wanted him to.

“Excuse me!” He screeches as his head bobs above the water.

The mud is washed off as least.

“You’re clean again! No one will know!”

Warrior is not amused.

You grin. “It’s not like you got any wetter.”

“...Why are you like this?”

“I’ll take my thanks in monetary compensation.”

Hyrule

“Hyrule.” You gasp. “Oh no. Oh boy. Don’t go back yet. Hold on. Don’t leave. Stay here.”

He pauses and does what you say, although confusedly. “Ok? Why?” 

“There’s a rip in your pants. Huge. I can see your whole-” 

“WHAT?” Hyrule grips the fabric and finally catches wind of the tear. It’s long and goes down the side of his leg but it’s... pretty revealing.

“I’ve got some sewing stuff in my pack.” You say dropping your equipment and dashing as quickly as you could. “I can sew it up. No one will know the difference.”

“...I can never show my face again.”

You roll your eyes and make the quick trip. There’s a small part in the reptilian part of your brain that calls to make it a quick mission. Stealth, silence and shadows are your friends and you make it back to camp, grab your supplies and make a break for it without tripping anyone else’s hand.

When you return to Hyrule, he’s sat down a nearby rock and inspecting what he can of the rip.

“I have no idea how you managed this,” you say when you get close to him again. “But I’ve managed to get there and back with no one knowing. I will, however, need you to take off your pants.”

Hyrule flushes bright red instantly.

“...Do I have to?”

“Unless you’re ok with my face being right next to your-”

“No, no, I’ll do it, I’ll do it.” Hyrule gulps and strips.

“I’m glad you agreed because I, for one, was not ok with that.” You hold your hand out and take the pants from him. “At least your tunic is long.”

“This is humiliating.” Hyrule mutters and sit down on the ground instead of the rock and hugs his legs close.

“Why on earth do you think I stopped you? Someone had to save you from the the ridicule of the others. Like don’t get me wrong, we all like you but there’s no survivors, no mercy, and no alliances when it comes to roasts.” You sat down in front of him and began to sew up the tear. “Any idea how this happened?”

“I think it got caught on a bush?” He rests his head on his knees and avoids eye contact. “I suppose I should thank you.”

“A bush?” You put it down and and stare at him. “A bush?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Hyrule if your clothes are weak enough to rip this badly on a bush then we need to get you knew clothes.” You finish and return to your task of fixing his pants. “We can get Legend and Wild and figure something out. Wild has enough clothes to spare and Legend knows good quality when he sees it. I’ll pay for your new clothes next town we invade, ok?”

“I can’t believe this happened.” He says instead.

“Give me ten minutes and you can at least put your pants back on.”

Legend

They were having a race.

The boys were so bored that they were having a race.

It was between Legend, Wild, Wind, Hyrule and Twilight.

Sky refused to run, Time was content with just watching and Warrior had a bet going so he had money on who the winner would be.

You were the judge and had placed yourself at the end of the strip with a small cloth for a flag and got in position. It was anything goes. Items, sabotage, dirty plays- anything.

Twilight was actually competing on Epona.

“Ready?” You call with a grin. “Get set! GO!”

You hear them take off but there’s a blast of wind next to you.

It’s so close to you that it takes you by surprise so you scream in shock but it ends in a thunk against the tree behind you.

There’s a groan and you turn to see the winner.

Twilight is next and he stops before he could run you over. “Are you kidding me? What the heck did he do? How did he do that?”

Legend is sitting in front of the tree and rubbing his head.

He wins at least.

The others make it within the next minute and they groan and whine but they leave without looking at the winner.

You grin and skip over to him, placing your hand on his shoulder when you get there. “Congrats, Mr. Hero. It looks like you were the- oh my god.”

You kneel next to him and tilts his face towards yours.

He’s bleeding from the face, a cut on his eye and a bloody nose.

“Hey, so you see this tree here?” He spits and it’s more blood.

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t.” He hisses and goes to wipe with his sleeve but you stop him.

“Oh boy. Hold on.” You gently take the cloth flag that you have and wipe his face, getting him to pinch his nose as you wipe his cut.

It’s thankfully not deep and not bleeding profusely. With a little inspiration, you take out your bag, your magically enchanted pocket and pull out a potion.

Legend is quick to refuse but you shake your head and splash a little on his face. The magic hits the cuts and is absorbed in his skin.

“Hey!” He splutters.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to explain to Warrior why your face is bleeding?” You smirk and begin cleaning the rest of the blood of him.

Legend pouts and looks away, letting you work.

“I guess not.”

“I thought so.”

Sky

“Oh... that is... not ideal...” You hear Sky say.

With your interest piqued, you turned your head to look at him and what was bothering him.

“Sky, what did you do?”

It... was interesting. Somehow Sky had managed to get his whip stuck in a tree. Not just caught between two branches, no that would have been too easy to pull out. It had somehow wrapped around the branch, at least three times and was too tall for anyone in the group to get out unless they had somehow managed to climb the tree.

The tree itself was also inclined to be easy to climb. You were quick to see that only The Champion could probably scale it but he wasn’t here at the moment. 

Twilight kidnapped him to go fishing.

“...How?” You ask and make your way over to him. “How did you do this?”

He glances at you with wide eyes and a bit lip. ”Help?”

“Ho boy...” You take a breath and get up. “This.... I have one solution.”

“Ok?”

“How good is your aim?” You glance up at the problem again. “Scratch that, how good is your throwing arm?”

“Pretty good I like to think.” He admits. 

“Ok, throw it over the branch but in the opposite direction. We have to undo the loops first.”

“We? Sounds like it’s just me.” Sky steps closer to the tree and prepares to throw the handle over the branch.

“Well there’s not exactly place for me to step in now, is there?” You put your hands on your hips and smirk.

It goes over one loop just fine.

It still doesn’t budge.

Sky throws it again, misses, tries again and makes it.

It’s only one loop over the branch but it still won’t move. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sky growls and throws it into the air in frustration.

“Ok, hold on, if it just need one more throw-”

He made it loose in the process but neither of you were paying attention. It had sung for a minute, budged and had swung all the way back to to you both coming off of the branch in the process. The inertia was still in motion and it had managed to hit Sky directly in the face while you were talking.

Luckily, it wasn’t that strong of a hit.

“Oh hey!” You grin and try not to laugh. “It’s out!”

“Let’s never speak of this.”

“Come on, it’s funny.”

“Ever.”

Four

“Wild, do you have any towels I can dry my hands off with?” Four asks from behind you.

You were all in Wild’s house once more and currently getting ready for dinner.

“Yeah, top shelf.” Wild replies without looking up from the pot.

You glance back as well to see where Wild would have been thinking about.

Yup, you think, that’s the top shelf alright.

Four is stuck staring at the height and begins to slowly look around.

You get an idea of where he’s going with this and power walk to his side. Your intuition is proven correct when he then attempts to climb Wild’s house and furniture just to get it.

His hands are also still wet, mind you.

You can see his white knuckled grip as he tries to fight the lack of traction and decide to help him out.

“I got it!” He says, when you nudge him aside.

“You don’t.” You reply and copy his movements to reach a singular towel. You’re back down in a split second but the bounty in within your grasp.

“It’s not like you can reach it either!”

“Still took me less time and significantly less climbing to get it.” You toss the towel in his face with a grin. “I doubt you even had good grip either. I thought you were going to fall and crack your head open on the floor.”

“Please don’t fall in my house and crack your head on the floor.” Wild speaks up. “Blood is so hard to clean up.”

“Know from experience?”

“Don’t tell Twilight.”

“Get lower shelves Wild Child.” Four dries his hands and tosses the troublesome cloth to Wild.

He catches it with blinking and shoves it into his apron. “I’ll take your criticism to the manager and see what we can do.”

“Manager? This is your house! You’re the manager!”

“So? I said what I said!”

“You boys done play fighting or are we going to have to wait to eat?” You ask.

...

“I’d like to eat now please.”

“On it.”

Wind

It was your turn on watch and there was nothing to do.

Not that you were asking for trouble but it would have been nice to at least be able to do patrol or something.

But nooooo... For safety reasons, i.e. the storm just beyond your coverings, everyone was supposed to stay within the camp at all times.

You didn’t disagree with it so to speak. It was more of a mild inconvenience.

That was until Wind got up with whispered...but still loud, curses.

You stood up and tip toed your away around the half hazardly tossed limbs of your comrades. “Everything ok Wind?”

He jumps and grabs the blankets around himself, folding them, bunching them together and curling ever so slightly over himself.

“Everything’s fine!”

“Shh..” You put a finger to your lips and look around the group.

No one woke up.

“What’s got your jimmies in a twist kid?” You squat down and place your hand on the blankets. They’re wet and the smell....

Oh you know what happened.

You stand up again and give him the curtesy of not saying it out loud. “I have a plan but you have to do as I say, no questions asked. We can make it so no one will know what happened. Ever. And this stays between only you and me, ok?”

You wipe your hand on your pants and hold out the opposite one to the boy. He stares at you with a red face and contemplates the choice. After only two seconds of deliberation, he takes your hand and gets up.

You suppose that to have an out, verses having to explain to everyone that he’s been looking up to sounds very appealing in the end. Better for only one person to know than ten.

“You’re lucky it’s still pouring buckets.” you say and grab all the blankets from his bed roll that you can. Chancing a glance at him, you see that his clothes are wet as well, pretty much from the waist down. With another thing to fix, you notice that his very bedroll is right by a huge puddle that had been forming and no one knew.

The hand in the glass water trick, then.

Your friends have seen and done that a few times to a few poor unsuspecting soul.

“Ok, here’s what you’re going to do.” You turn to Wind. “You’re going to change out of your clothes and into some clean ones. And then you’re going back to bed in my bed roll.”

“But where will you sleep?” He asks with a hand gripping his shirt

“I’ll steal it from the next guy.” You lie...kinda... That actually sounds appealing but you don’t think on it too much. “I’ll take the next shift to buy time and I’m going to throw your blankets and bed roll out into the rain, ok?”

“You were too close to the borders of the tarp anyway.” You continue with your plan, throwing them out for a second before turning on your heel and getting some of your clothes for Wind.

You think you might have something that’ll fit him but if not, it’s only to sleep in.

He changes into the clothes while you back out to the blankets.

In your search for the clothes, you dug out your powered soap and tossed some of it on the blankets and bed roll. After rubbing the fabric together to get it sudsy and deep into the material, you set it up against the tree and branches, letting the falling rain drops hit it and filter through.

It’s rudimentary and it took you longer than you wanted because now you’re also soaked to the bone and only halfway through but you think back to being a thirteen year old and how embarrassed you would have been and plow on to save Wind from the same fate.

You step back into the tarp and guide Wind, taking his clothes away to where you were sleeping prior. You’re clothes are way too big on him and it’s honestly more endearing than you would have thought.

“Thanks.” Wind says in a small voice. He’s humiliated, you know but you don’t focus on it.

“Your hand got wet and you pissed yourself in your sleep.” You say and shrug. “My friends and I were... are brats and it’s not the first we’ve played that prank. Put the poor saps in a glass of warm water and watch them pee their pants. It’s funny when it’s planned and well... not you. I won’t tell a soul.”

“You better not.” He sits down in your bed roll and begins to get comfortable. “It’s smells nice.”

“I try.” You grin.

“Do I owe you?” He looks up with big eyes and you think that it makes him look younger than he is.

“It’s on the house.” You wave him off and dash back in the rain to clean the rest of his clothes.

On the way back to cover, you kick the support that was closest to Wind’s spot, sending a torrent of rain upon yourself in the process but the spot where the pirate was is considered useless now.

Wind tilts his head from his spot and you grin. “Cover story.”

The rest of night is spent watching the time, watching the others and taking turns with Wind’s clothes and blankets by the fire so that all three of you can dry off before the sun comes up and the other inevitably ask questions.

By morning you’re dead on your feet, but consider it a job well done. 

[idmakeitbehave]

Spencer blurb with random number 11 and 16!!! :D

11. “You’re insane.” “You love me.” “Not right now I don’t.”

16. “You met me yesterday.” “Yes, and I would die for you. Next question.”

Word count: 1.1k (yeah I know...this one got away from me)

A/N: you know me.....we love a meet-cute ☀️

It was the rainiest spring DC had seen in―well, you didn’t quite know the stats on it, but it was the rainiest you had ever seen. You didn’t mind the rain usually, but right now you cursed it. A towering pile of packages occupied your hands; you could barely see in front of you as you tried to figure out a way to balance them against the door so you could reach for your key. The ground was soaked, as were your clothes. You had just leaned your body weight forward, packages pressed against the door in an effort to free one of your hands, when the tower began to tip. A swear started to form on your lips, cut off when you realized that something had caught the packages.

Not something, someone―a tall, rain-drenched man wearing a pair of browline glasses, his hair plastered to his head. He held two of your packages in his hand, his other digging into his pocket for something. A key.

The handsome stranger lived in your building. He was either a murderer or you were living in a rom-com. You preferred to think it was the latter.

“Thanks!” you yelled over the pounding of the rain. The lock clicked and he opened the door, motioning for you to go first. You rushed into the lobby, thankful to finally be out of the storm. You set down the packages before making a futile attempt at shaking off your clothes. It was no use―you looked like a drowned rat.

The man in front of you did too, and yet he somehow managed to remain ridiculously handsome. The thought occupied your mind as you watched him wipe the rain from his glasses. Absurd.

“I’ve never seen it rain so much here.” You cursed yourself for talking about the weather, but it was just the first thing you could think of to say. You found yourself near speechless as you stared at him yet somehow filled with the urge to make conversation―any conversation, apparently.

His eyes lit up, making your regret at your topic choice disappear instantly. “I’ll say! May is usually the wettest month of the year with 101.6 millimeters of rain and eleven rainy days, but this month may just break the record for April.”

Your mouth fell open and you blinked at him.

“Do you―do you need help carrying these?” He motioned to the now soggy boxes that sat on the floor. You eyed him for a moment, weighing your options. Murderer or rom-com… He seemed to sense your apprehension. “I live right down the hall,” he said in a rush. “Apartment 22. Spencer Reid.”

Apartment 22. Maybe it really was fate. You let out a joyous laugh. “I’m in 23―Y/N Y/L/N. Just moved in last week.”

The man―Spencer, you reminded yourself―gave you a small smile. “It’s really nice to meet you.” Without another word, he grabbed half of the packages. You copied his movement, picking up the rest and heading down the hall. The two of you made it to your front doors―right across from each other, you noted. Of course.

Spencer waited as you dug out your key and helped you bring all of the boxes inside. You set the last one down on the coffee table. The two of you stood in silence for an instant, staring at one another with matching grins on your faces. Despite the fact that you had literally just met, some invisible pull made you want to know him―to really, truly know him. The words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “You want to stay for a cup of tea?”

A look of genuine disappointment crossed his face. “I―I wish I could, but I really have to get back to work. I just ran home to grab a few things.”

You tried not to visibly deflate at his words. “Oh.” You nodded. “Of course, duty calls.”

“Another time?” he asked almost tentatively.

“Yes! Absolutely.”

Spencer turned to leave, sparing one last glance your way and waving before heading into his own apartment.

And that was that.

***

The next day, you sat in a coffee shop, idly stirring your drink. “Earth to Y/N, come in Y/N.” You looked up with a start to see Lily waving a hand in your face. “Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

You let out a hum. “Sorry, Lil.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “Still thinking about handsome neighbor man? What was it―Samson?”

“Spencer,” you sighed, directing your gaze out the window. You sat up with a start. “Spencer!”

“I heard you the first time.”

“No, Spencer!” you repeated, still staring out the window. There he was, rushing across the street with a drink in one hand and a bag in the other. You watched as he tried to pull the bag over his shoulder, a book tumbling out as he did so. He didn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with avoiding the puddles and dodging the cars. You stood up from the table.

“Are you seriously about to run after him?” The bewilderment in Lily’s voice was laced with pure amusement.

“Sorry.” You pulled your coat on, dropping your empty cup into the trash.

“You’re insane.”

“You love me.”

She sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. “Not right now I don’t.”

You just shrugged at her before running out the door. The book sat in the middle of the street, and you could see Spencer at the bus stop. He was still struggling with his bag, the strap now tangled with his scarf. You ran into the street and grabbed the book. The blare of car horns startled you―you hadn’t even bothered to look before running into the road. You waved apologetically to the cars waiting impatiently on each side before dashing over to the bus stop.

Spencer stood there with wide eyes, the ruckus from the street causing him to finally look up from his bag. “Y/N?”

You handed him his book wordlessly, bending over as you attempted to catch your breath. “Hey, Spencer. You dropped your book.”

He blinked at you, eyes wide with disbelief. “You almost just got hit by a car.”

“You dropped your book,” you repeated. “I didn’t want you to lose it.”

“You ran out into oncoming traffic to rescue my book for me?”

“Yep.”

Spencer turned the book over in his hands before meeting your eyes. He swallowed thickly, his tongue darting out and wetting his lips. “You met me yesterday.”

You nodded. “Yes, and I would die for you. Next question.”

There was a heavy pause as you stared at one another before he broke into the brightest smile you had ever seen, letting out a brilliant laugh. “You want to get that cup of tea?”

Your response was immediate. “Yes.” You nodded so vehemently that your neck ached. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

[lunar-wandering]

100 kilometers left to travel

so me and the ~discord~ came up with a MK clone (not a hair clone, this one was created by science! how fun!) and I kinda. went a little wild so now I’m Making A Fanfic for him-

Word Count: 3.4k

Read on Ao3

He knew something was wrong the instant he woke up.

The ground was hard and cold, he could feel tiny rocks digging into him as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. He could faintly hear water dripping in the distance, the sound of a car driving overhead. The soft click of somebodies shoes hitting the floor as they approached him.

He moved his hand to the side, trying to find a better position to push himself up and off the floor. His hand landed in something wet, and he hurriedly pulled it back. His eyes were still closed. He couldn't see what he had touched.

He hoped it was just water.

Taking a deep, wheezing breath, he slowly pushed himself up, trying to stand, before stumbling, sitting down and leaning against the cool metal behind him. His limbs ached, they felt like they hadn't moved in ages.

Now that he was thinking of it, had he ever moved before?

....Who was he?

A flash of some kind of memories danced in his mind. A hint of pink, the taste of something good, a book being placed in his hands, a flash of green, a dash of red, the warmth of tea, a touch of gold, a tint of purple, and something blue.

Blue.....

His head hurt. He couldn't make sense of any of the colours within his mind, the emotions they brought with them coming and going like the tide, vanishing before he could even begin to decipher them. He didn't..... he couldn't understand.

"Ah, I see you've survived."

He'd forgotten about the footsteps.

Something about the voice sent shivers down his spine, making him curl up, every inch of him shouting 'protect yourself! you're not safe!'.

"Oh, well we can't have that."

A hand softly ran through his hair, before harshly pulling it, moving his head out of the curled up position he'd put himself in. It didn't hurt a lot, but it still made him whimper in fear.

"Look at me."

He didn't want to know what would happen if he disobeyed. Slowly he tried to open his eyes, the colours of real life swirling almost as much as the colours within his brain. He closed his eyes in response to the sudden stimuli, before remembering the voice's demand and forcing them open again. Despite this, he couldn't make out who was in front of him, his eyes incapable of focusing.

He could only see blue and white.

"Hm..... I suppose you'll have to do." The voice let go of his hair, but he didn't move. He had a feeling curling back up, despite how every instinct was screaming at him to do so, would be a bad idea. "You certainly didn't melt like the others."

Melt? What did they-

"Tell me, Experiment Number 7, are you ready for your mission?"

He didn't even know what his mission was.

But he knew, down in his bones, that saying 'no' would have consequences.

"Y-" He tried to speak, but his voice cracked, breaking off into nothing. He coughed, trying to speak again, only for the voice to huff in irritation.

"You needn't continue. I suppose I should give you a bit longer to adjust before I send you out....this must be perfect in order for destiny to come to fruition."

The footsteps clicked again, and he waited until they had faded away and he couldn't hear them anymore before he slumped, curling in on himself again, letting out a wheezing breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

Alone, he listened to the sounds surrounding him, colours flickering in his mind again before, inevitably, he fell back asleep.

-

"MK!"

MK jolted, leaning back and falling out of the chair he'd been sleeping in. On his way down, he knocked the table with his head, sending a bowl of broth (there had been noodles, but MK had already ate them) flying down to splatter on the floor beside him. He groaned, rubbing his head as it ached.

He felt like he'd dreamed about something important....

MK blinked, and suddenly Mei was leaning over him.

"You alright?" She asked, holding out her hand to help him up. MK took her up on her offer, standing up and dusting himself off, before looking at the shattered bowl and liquid on the floor, and sighed.

"Guess I'll have to clean that up...." He mumbled, before switching gears and turning to Mei with a smile on his face. "Anyways, I'm fine, but Mei, what are you doing here?"

"Did you seriously forget already?" Mei asked, "You promised you'd come with me to the arcade today!"

"Oh. I didn't forget I just, I didn't realize so much time had passed, I must've been asleep for longer than I thought...." MK said, stretching a little to get the last bits of tiredness out of his limbs. Mei watched him with a look of concern.

"Have you been sleeping enough lately?" She asked, looking him up and down, searching for any sign that he wasn't taking care of himself like he should.

"Yeah, I just...." MK paused for a moment, before shrugging. "I keep having these weird dreams. They feel important, but I can never really remember them."

"Is it a side effect of your monkey powers?"

"Monkey King doesn't have prophetic dreams Mei." MK said, walking out the door, Mei keeping in time with his stride. "Or well. It's never mentioned in the stories."

"You'll have to ask him when he gets back from his vacation then." Mei said.

"Yeah, I guess I will......"

-

He took a deep breath, leaning against the wall of the alley way.

Glancing out, he could see his original, walking beside the green girl.

(He hadn't bothered to learn her name. He felt like he should know it, but it would be fine. He could learn it later, it wasn't important for his mission yet.)

Right now, what he had to do was simple. Grab his original, bring him back to the lair, and then, once he'd gathered his information, replace him.

Simple. Easy.

He looked back out at the fairly crowded street.

Simple. Easy.

And then suddenly there was a crash, his original shrieked, and then red was there too, the green girl holding him back from attacking the original.

When has anything ever been easy?

He turned and started heading back to the lair.

The Lady wasn't going to be happy about this, but there was no way the plan was going to work today.

-

Two weeks later, MK leaned against the railing on the deck of the ship, while Wukong sat on the railing, swinging his legs off the side.

"....Monkey King?"

"Yeah, what's up, bud?"

"Have you ever had like, prophetic dreams?" MK asked, and Wukong's legs paused mid swing.

".......No." He answered, slowly, "Why? Did something happen?"

"Well, not exactly." MK said, thinking of how best to explain it. "I've been having these dreams, but it's like I just can't remember them once I wake up. I know they happened, and I feel like they're telling me something important, but what actually happened in them just keeps...slipping out of my grasp."

"And you're sure they're not just regular dreams?" Wukong asked, sighing when MK shook his head yes. "....Okay. I can't say that I've experienced anything like that, but I can look into it if it really concerns you."

"Thank you." MK sighed in relief, before giving Wukong a smirk. "On another note, you should probably run, I think Pigsy's finally noticed that you stole all the snack food."

"Oh n-" Wukong scrambled off the railing, causing the spoon Pigsy threw at him to just barely miss. Hurriedly, he turned and ran back into the ship, Pigsy chasing after him. MK gave a little laugh as he watched the both of them disappear through the door, leaving him alone on the deck.

It was almost...nice to be able to relax like this. Sure, the Lady Bone Demon was after them, but it wasn't like there was a demon attacking every other day. In fact, thus far into their journey, they hadn't been attacked at all.

So of course, it was immediately after he had that thought that something hit him in the back of the head, hard, causing him to pass out.

-

MK woke up to a dark room.

No, not a room.

A cell, as evidenced by the bars.

He shivered, as a cold breeze blew through the cell. His jacket was missing.

Recognizing that this was probably not good, MK quickly sat up, grabbing hold of the bars and pressing his face against them, trying to tilt his head to see the surrounding area better.

"Hey you, you're finally awake."

MK bit back a shriek, startling and hitting his head against the bars with a clang. He let go of the cell bars to hold his head, crouching down as he hissed in pain.

"Woah, don't go knocking yourself out again so soon, I need someone to talk to around here."

MK knew that voice.

Looking over to the side, he could see someone sitting in the corner, half enshrouded in darkness.

"Why are you here, Macaque?" MK asked, rubbing his head as he stood up again. "And also, did you seriously just quote a meme at me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Macaque said, amusement in his voice. "And I'm here because I wanna be."

"Bullshit." MK deadpanned.

"If Wukong was here you'd get smacked." 

"Well yeah, but he's not, so-" MK said, smirking, before looking back out through the bars again. "Where are we anyways?"

"One of the Lady Bone Demon's lairs." Macaque answered, standing up and walking to also glance out through the bars. As he entered into the slightly more lit area of the cell, MK could see that his clothes were torn, dried blood staining it, and a torn piece of his scarf wrapped around his arm. MK barely bit back his concern in favor of a different question.

"She has more than one lair?"

"Apparently." Macaque shrugged. "This is a different one from the one I first woke up in, so I can only assume it's a different location."

"...How long have you been captured? Actually, wait, better question, how long have I been captured?" MK asked, panic starting to grip him. What if he'd been gone for too long, and something had happened to-

"I don't think it's been any more than a few hours for you." Macaque said, alleviating at least some of MK's worries. At least he hadn't been passed out for 3 days or something.... "As for me....I don't know."

"Wh- how could you not know?" MK asked, "Have you seriously been in here long enough that you can't remember how much time has passed?"

"I think it's been a week."

"You think!?"

-

In the end, it had been rather easy to escape.

Scarily easy, to be honest. There hadn't been a single guard, and they hadn't encountered the Lady Bone Demon so much as once the whole time.

Macaque had, in return for MK not telling Wukong that he had helped out, personally gotten MK back to the ship via shadow-teleportation. MK had to admit, traveling through shadows was a weird experience, but it was kinda thrilling in a way, a bit like a roller coaster. The two of them popped out of the shadow of a tree beside a forest clearing, where the ship had landed on the ground.

"This is as far as I'm taking ya, kid." Macaque said, falling back into the shadows. "......You might want to mentally prepare yourself before you get back on the ship by the way."

"Prepare myself for what?" MK asked, but Macaque had already vanished, leaving MK alone.

MK sighed, then walked over to the ship, going to climb up the side of the ship and onto the deck, but then paused, one leg over the ship's railing as he took in the sight before him. He slowly blinked, wondering if he was just seeing things, but nope, Mei was holding another him at sword point, the others standing behind her in a defensive position.

"Who are you and why are you doing a horrible job at pretending to be my friend!" Mei asked, leering over the other MK in a threatening matter.

"Hey, I thought I was doing a good job at pretending to be MK!" The other MK yelled.

"Evidently not!" MK said, fully climbing over the rail and dropping down onto the deck, drawing the attention over to where he was. "Seriously, who the hell are you?"

"Who the hell are you?" The other MK shot back, before realizing what he said. "No, wait that was a stupid question, I know who you are- why did I say that?"

The others ignored him, in favor of staring at MK in suspicion.

"Are you the real MK?" Pigsy asked, causing MK to sputter in offense.

"Wh- of course I am-" MK said, before cutting himself with a yelp, as Wukong suddenly appeared beside him, lifting his arm, picking him up, basically checking him all over before placing him back on the ground, seemingly satisfied.

"Yep, this one is the real deal." He confirmed, before glaring at the other MK. "That one, on the other hand-"

They turned back to the other MK, who had, in the moment of distraction, begun to slowly inch away from Mei's sword, and now was halfway over the railing, about to jump off.

"Oh no you don't." Mei hissed, grabbing onto the back of the other MK's jacket (and oh, so that's where MK's jacket had went, not only did he have a double, but said double was a jacket thief-) and pulling him back onto the ship, letting him fall backwards and slam down on the metal deck. "You're not going anywhere until we get some answers out of you, KM."

"KM?" The other MK asked, everyone else looking at Mei with the same degree of confusion.

"I needed something to call you other than MK." She said, shrugging, before getting right back to business. "Now. Who sent you?"

"What, like I'm just gonna tell you that-" Mei's sword poked closer to his neck. "The Lady! The Lady Bone Demon! She's the one who sent me!"

"Well. That certainly explains why I woke up in one of her cells." MK said, and was immediately met with various looks of concern. He threw his hands up in self-defense. "Hey, don't look at me like that, she didn't even show up, like seriously, it was ridiculously easy for me and Macaque to escape-"

"I'm sorry, you and who?" Wukong interrupted, looking like he was about to breakdown then and there.

"Oh, that's the shadow guy, right?" KM asked, ignoring the glares the others sent him. "I talked with him a few times. Or, well, we didn't so much as talk, more like I walked past him, but like. Same thing, right? Ha ha, yeah, uh, anyways, can we put the sword away now?"

"Depends." Mei said, "What're you gonna do now that we know? You going to go ham, no offense Pigsy, and kill us all?"

"What? No." KM said, "Well. Is that what I'm supposed to do?"

"No, no, no-" MK hurriedly said, rushing forwards, pushing Mei and her sword to the side in order to be face to face with KM, which, wow, that was weird seeing his own face not on him and not on a hair clone- how does KM even exist if he's not a hair clone- wait he's getting distracted- "It is not what you're supposed to do. You are not going to do that. Right?"

"....Right." KM said, slowly nodding. There was a moment of awkward silence, then Mei was back up, shoving MK over as she pointed her sword at KM again.

"That didn't sound like a very confident answer." She said. KM glanced at her, taking in her threatening expression, looked over her shoulder, seeing the expressions of the others-

"If I give you the staff, will you not kill me?" He asked.

That made everyone pause.

"....What, exactly, do you mean by that?" Wukong asked, and KM, in response, hurriedly removed his jacket, shaking it out a little-

And the staff fell out, clanging and slightly denting the deck.

There was a moment of silence.

MK slowly reached over, grabbing hold of, and lifting the staff, feeling a familiar warmth rush through him.

"Why did you have this?" He asked, and KM rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Well I mean, you had it in the videos I watched, but I couldn't make a realistic replica, so when I saw it in the Lady Bone Demon's lair I just... took it?" He said, carefully watching the other's blank expressions. "I-I figured it'd make it easier to pretend to be you if I had it-"

"So what you're saying is you stole it." Pigsy said, "From the Lady Bone Demon."

"I don't know, maybe?" KM said, and Mei slowly lowered her sword, before finally putting it away.

KM watched on as the group all looked at each other, seemingly having a silent conversation via eye contact.

(They were, in fact, having a real conversation, as Wukong was astral projecting to everyone, and thus basically opened a telepathic connection.

"We could just let him stay with us." MK said.

"Kid, are you crazy? Do you know what he is?" Wukong asked.

"No actually." MK said.

KM, not being in the loop, had no way of knowing this.)

"....So uh, KM was it, what exactly are you?" Tang asked, and once again all eyes were on KM, who shifted nervously.

"Uh, a clone? Like- like test-tube clone. Created in the science goo and all that." KM said, making jazz hands as he said 'science goo'. No one looked very impressed.

"She knows how to do that?"  Wukong whispered under his breath, sounding almost horrified.

"Are there any others like you?" Sandy asked.

KM thought back to the wetness he'd touched when he was first created.

"....No." KM said, "The others failed. They.....they melted."

There was another moment while the others had a silent conversation.

( "Look, he's all alone, we can't just leave him be!"

"But-"

"Look, we know you don't trust him Monkey King, which to be honest the rest of us don't really trust him either, but we can't just leave this kid alone!")

Wukong gave an irritated sigh.

"Fine." He said, marching over to KM, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him up so that he was standing. He grabbed MK's jacket out of KM's hand, tossing it over his shoulder, where it proceeded to land directly on top of MK's head. "Look, kid, the others have decided to trust you, and I've been outvoted, so listen. We're going to let you stay on the ship. But if I catch any sign of you being up to no good, I will not hesitate to throw you overboard. Clear?"

"As crystal." KM said.

"Good." Wukong said, "But, just in case-"

And then KM's bandana was gone, replaced with a golden circlet. With nothing to hold up his hair, it flopped down, almost completely blocking the new circlet from view. KM reached his hand up to feel it, instantly recognizing what it was.

"....Why." He asked.

"Like I said, just a precaution." Wukong said.

("I have always wanted to do that to someone else-"

"Monkey King."

"Oh. Oops, forgot this connection was still open-")

"You don't have to worry though." Wukong continued, "It won't hurt you or anything, you just won't be able to get more than a kilometer away from me or MK."

"Okay??" KM said, and, well, that was that.

KM was officially a member of the ship.

-

"Out of curiosity, what was it that made you realize KM wasn't me?" MK asked, later that night. Mei immediately broke out into a wild grin, while KM groaned.

"Well first of all, he didn't call any of us by our names." Mei began, "He called me Green Girl, Sandy was Tea Man, so on and so forth. But the real thing that made us realize was that-"

"Don't say it-" KM started, but Mei wasn't going to listen.

"He referred to himself in the third person." She said, "Or, really, he was referring to you, but since he was pretending to be you-"

"Look, I just got used to thinking 'MK smiles like this' and 'MK moves like that', okay?!" KM said, covering his face with his hands. "It just became the default y'know?"

"Understandable, but really?" MK asked, "You didn't once train yourself into talking like you were me?"

"Look, I've only been alive for one month-"

[timextoxhajima]

Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 10 - Pudding & Champagne

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @sunwoowuvbot​ @suzy-rainbow @miingxuxi​​​​

“What would it have been like, had she been the one in Kim Jang Won’s shoes instead?”

“What was that about?” Jang Won’s look of disapproval is the strongest on her face now than he has ever seen on her. “The Hell’s wrong with you? Have you not been to a check-up before? Were you mad you couldn’t go in with me? What?”

“We... can get you to another hospital for your check-ups, how’s that? I can recommend you my family doctor and he’s one of the best in the city-”

“What? Is that what it is? You’re upset because I’m not seeing ‘one of the best doctors’ in the city?”

Juyeon refuses to respond, her wrist in his grip as she’s trying to wriggle her way out. “Juyeon!”

“Please, just shut up, and trust me, will you?”

“Trust you? You don’t even want to tell me what the Hell’s going on!” 

Upon reaching the car, Juyeon finally releases her, leaving a bright peach-pink mark on her wrists where he held her too tightly. He pulls open the passenger’s door, but she violently slams it back shut, palm reaching out and pressing into the line where the top of the door connects to the roof of the car.

“We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what that was.”

“Jesus Christ, will you just trust me for this once? This has nothing to do with HERA & ARTEMIS or your family! This is for your own health and I... I have my own reasons, okay?” Juyeon huffs, running his hands through his hair and ruining the efforts of Younghoon’s hairstylist from the morning. “Not everything is about money, or your reputation, or The Board, okay? I just have a bad feeling about... this.”

Jang Won reels backwards, frown deepening and her lips pursed into a tight, thin, suspicious line. 

He inhales a sharp breath, turning around on his feet and paces up and down in the next lot. He sucks in his lips between his teeth with his hands on the back of his neck. Silently; harshly, begging his intelligence to cook up some stupid, believable reason before she drives a knife into his back for being unreasonable. 

“Okay,” Whirling around, he lifts a single finger and approaches her slowly. “So don’t change hospitals. But every time you go for your check-up, you tell me. If she prescribes you medication, I see it, okay?”

Her pupils are shaking, now that he’s closer and he’s got his palms on her shoulders. Her lips part, wishing to hurl a string of vulgarities at him for even thinking he can dictate her life.

But then he opens his arms and wraps them around her, her frown fading and shock replacing her anger instead. His breath is heavy into the hair that fell onto her back, and she can feel his chest rising against her shoulders.

“What the- Juyeon...”

“Please, just promise me this one thing,” The layer of wetness coat his eyes, and he keeps his mouth open to regulate his breathing. “Please.”

There’s a growing, uneasy nausea in her stomach when she struggles to process his words. It’s in her instincts to pull away, probably send a palm into one of his cheeks for thinking that he has the autonomy and power to decide what she gets to do and what she doesn’t, but she can’t. Almost ashamed, she finds herself buying his plea. 

Is this what genuine care and concern sounds like?

He pulls away, the heat of the carpark air rushing between their bodies. He’s searching her face for any sign of relent, any sign of resignation, and she finds desperation in his. The questions in her head can’t even begin to formulate, because there’s absolutely no reason for Juyeon to be so bothered by her health, and yet he’s got no agenda to be suspicious about. 

He’d be the richer, more powerful one of the two in just about a month’s time.

“Jang Won.”

“Okay!” Shutting her eyes and raising her hands, she trembles as she agrees. “Okay. I’ll bring you along whenever I come for a check-up.”

Relief washes over him, and she can see his lungs deflate, like he was holding his breath waiting for her response. She looks away, unable to maintain any form of eye contact with him after experiencing what seems to be like cared for. It’s disgustingly alien, and it kind of wants to make her cry too. 

It’s like finding your favourite toy stashed away in some obscure cabinet after 20 years. 

Juyeon rests his palms on her shoulders again, then gradually pulls her in once more, this time gentler; less aggressive. A protest rises in her throat, but is interrupted by the form of his palm stroking the hair on the back of her head. 

Yoo Hye In is twirling the stray bit of fringe hanging from her face, Jang Won’s folder in her left hand, stuck between her torso and her right elbow. It was a pity she had missed most of the conversation between her patient and her husband, but nonetheless, the sight of them intrigues her. 

What would it have been like, had she been the one in Kim Jang Won’s shoes instead?

The Porsche starts up with a melancholic atmosphere - not a single word exchanged between the two when they part and he opens the door for her. Already, she can tell that Juyeon is harboring a parasite, one that he will grow to hate and despise. His heart is opening up to her, a piece of stone-cold, less-than-human brat who has no clue how lucky she was to be born into the family that shouldn’t even have existed. The warmth for Kim Jang Won was beginning to brew in the depths of Juyeon’s gut, against his wishes, against his needs, against his wants.

He must have a world of problems to worry about, and now, to throw Kim Jang Won into the floor plan?

Yoo Hye In fails to contain the slight smirk that arises on her lips when the car drives off with Juyeon at the wheel. Pushing herself off the wall of the lift lobby, she turns, heading back into the lift. 

Younghoon was busy sieving through the racks and racks and racks of clothes in the second master bedroom when he hears his little sister’s heels clack and echo along the corridor. 

“Ms Kim, your brother is here.”

“Huh?”

“Surprise!” Younghoon sticks his head out of the second master, eyeing the couple entering the hallway and the butler chasing after them from the stairs. 

“What are you doing with my honeymoon closet?” She hurriedly steps over, heels clacking noisily as she rushes to greet him with a slap on his arm. 

“Tea will be ready in 15, Mr Lee,” Mr Ro bows from the stairs, not bothering to make it to the second floor. Juyeon nods, turning to listen to the muffled bickering emitting from the second master.

“This is alot of clothes for a cool climate. It’s not gonna snow, is it?” Younghoon dumps himself in one of the sofa seats by the coffee table, bringing his feet up to the edge of the bed where some leather patches were displaying scarfs and other garments. Jang Won reaches over and slaps his feet off, pressing down into the scarfs to neaten them. 

“No, it’s not. But you know me, I’m extra and greedy and I have no clue what’s appropriate, so.”

Juyeon enters the room, eyes glossing over the almost 20 racks of clothes, and easily half of them were clothes for him, from HERA & ARTEMIS (and probably like, Dior, and Chanel, or LV, or Gucci, or HERMES). He bows and greets Younghoon, who waves it off nonchalantly as he stands.

“I heard you stayed over,” Raising an arm and casually resting it over Juyeon’s shoulders, Younghoon cheekily side-eyes him. 

“It was an impromptu situation,” Juyeon’s eyes slightly widen with caution.

“Yeah, he ran away from home. Lovely, right?” Jang Won chortles, moving over to one of the racks and skimming through the dresses. 

Younghoon chuckles in disbelief, brows high up on his forehead as he turns to Juyeon, holding him by his shoulder. 

“What?” His glossy eyes flicker. “I’m technically her husband now, which means I could technically live here too.”

“You wish,” Jang Won removes some clothes from the rack and into an empty one.

“Anyway, I managed to get a PI to dig out more information on Mr Nam’s body swap.”

“Body swap?” Juyeon’s eyes light up with caution disguised in curiosity. “You mean... the one that replaced your father?”

“The one and only,” Jang Won sings with a matter-of-fact tone. 

“They actually didn’t figure out much, which is weird, but we did get information on where he used to go for health check ups. Turns out, he went to the same hospital as you do.”

“Aren’t the hospital fees expensive? Did Artemis Ent. provide coverage costs?”

“We don’t cover the entire bill but there is a discount or some kind of partial coverage.”

“Did we get a doctor’s name or something?”

“Multiple, actually,” Younghoon scratches the line where his hairline meets his forehead. “He kept changing doctors because his diagnosis kept changing.”

“This is alot of information at once. Can’t you get it in a folder and have it mailed to me or something? My honeymoon is soon and I’d like the time to myself and not worry about a dead man.”

“Sure, it’s not like I was gonna recite every piece of information to you now,” Younghoon turns and heads for the door. “Tea’s ready, by the way.”

And then, for some strange reason, Younghoon runs.

“Oh! No!” Jang Won’s sudden change in mannerism stuns Juyeon. She flings the clothes back onto her bed and dashes after Younghoon right after he leaves the room. “No! You’re gonna finish the pudding on your own!”

The footsteps slam down into the marble floor when Younghoon starts running down the steps as well. She yells, and her heels click-clack to an abrupt stop for her to remove her shoes. 

“You’re going on your honeymoon, you should give me the pudding!”

With one sharp burst of a sprint, Jang Won manages to catch up to Younghoon, pulling his neck into a headlock and struggling to yank the end of his blazer over his head. 

“Agh!” He shouts, almost losing his balance as he stumbles backwards. “That’s cheating!”

Jang Won giggles, the marble cold against her feet as she pushes past him and runs backwards into the dining hall. Panting, she turns on her heels, hair slightly tousled but the scent of butter pudding wafting in the air was enough to make an appetite.

However, her appetite hits the streets once she sees that the table was one seat occupied. Her breaths immediately become shallow as Younghoon pats himself down, reaching the table and sitting down even before she does. 

“What-”

“Ms Kim,” Mr Ro interrupts, pushing the kitchen door open for the kitchen staff to bring out one more tray of cream puffs. “A guest must also eat.”

“But-”

“Do you want him to die in your house? And then compromise... everything?”

Jang Won puffs her cheeks and frowns. Glaring at Mr Ro, she pulls out the nearest seat, far, far away from her father, and dumps her butt in the chair. 

Watching Jang Won sit down in her seat like a child after acting like one with her brother draws a susceptible smile on Juyeon’s face as he makes his way into the dining hall. 

She picks up the fork as Juyeon bows subtly to Kim Jo-Pil, taking a seat next to her. 

“‘A guest must also eat’,” She whines under her breath. Juyeon’s gaze darts to her when he can hear her mockery. “‘Do you want him to die in your house?’”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Younghoon calls from across the table, hands occupied with spreading jam across his toast. 

“Does it look like I was talking to you?” Jang Won sticks her tongue out at him, and he does the same.

“Children,” Juyeon criticises under his breath, smirk prancing on his lips. In his peripheral vision, he spots a smile emerging on Kim Jo-Pil’s face. It’s the kind of smile that only a father would have, when he’s at the dining table watching his two children argue with one another.

Kim Jo-Pil can’t decide if he was grateful or resentful for the fact that he was alive again. Fate has a strange way of forcing people into thinking the worst or the best out of situations that you weren’t meant to be in, and right now, Kim Jo-Pil knows for a fact that he shouldn’t be sitting here. 

He should’ve been lying in a coffin, 6 feet under, rotting. He had been given a second shot at life, and by the last person he’d expected to birth him one. 

But if Yoo Hye In had Se Kyung’s eyes, Jang Won had the rest of her. 

On the balcony outside Jang Won’s massive bedroom, Juyeon finds himself fiddling with a glass of champagne that Mr Ro had offered him in secret. Jang Won’s favourite champagne, tens of thousands of dollars per bottle.

In the distance and past the metal bars, he can make out the lights in the city against the navy-blue nightsky. All the tall skyscrapers and amongst one of them was the building his family owned, where he should’ve been today and all the days prior. Maybe even next week. But he’d be halfway across the globe in about 5 days, spending time with his wife, not by choice, but by force - and yet he’s gone all soft for her. It’s strange, how his expectations have changed drastically throughout this ordeal. For some moments in this silence he has to himself, he worries if this is sympathy he feels for her.

Then again, sympathy is better than if it were anything more serious. 

Like love.

The door being pulled open from behind him drags him out of his drowning thoughts. The secrets piled up in his memory chucks itself away in fear upon the sight of Jang Won’s head sticking out through the gap between the doors.

“I’ve been told a bottle of my favourite champagne has been opened.”

Juyeon turns back to the glass sitting on the floor and picks it up. “I was given this glass, in case you were wondering if I went into your wine cellar. Want the rest?”

With a childish grin on her face, Jang Won pulls out the entire bottle and an empty from behind her back. Juyeon raises both brows in delightful surprise, chuckling under his breath. 

“I was gonna offer it to you anyway, so it doesn’t matter that Mr Ro’s given you a glass himself,” She slots the rest of her body through the gaps and shuts it behind her. Sinking into the sofa seat (Juyeon had known it was hers and decided to make himself comfortable on the floor instead), she places the bottle on the stand and yanks the cork off. 

“You were gonna offer me your favourite champagne?” He raises a skeptic brow. “After you called me a coward yesterday? After our wedding?”

“That was yesterday?” Jang Won tilts the bottle over her glass. “Feels like last week.”

He snorts at her attempt to change the focus of the conversation. “It does.”

“I just... thought that since the wedding was all for show and none of it was real...” She places the bottle back down and swirls the champagne. “At least this was by choice.”

“What, hanging out on your balcony and drinking champagne?”

Jang Won snickers and pulls her legs onto the seat, taking a sip of her share. 

“Are you really okay with giving me 50% of HERA & ARTEMIS though?” 

“I don’t have a choice, do I? I’m not gonna give my father all 100% of it.”

Juyeon turns away and stares at the bit of champagne left in his glass. “What’s your plan after that? After your father and I get half each and your brother for Artemis Ent.”

“I’ll worry about that then,” She gulps down the rest of her champagne, then reaches over to grab the bottle. “Right now, I just can’t wait to get out of here.”

Juyeon’s finishes the rest of his champagne then looks up to see her gulping straight from the bottle. 

“Do you have a death wish?” He stands and places his glass next to hers. She doesn’t stop. Wrapping his fingers around the cool glass, he gently pulls it away from her lips and tears it out of her grip. Judging by the weight of the bottle, she’s downed half of it in one shot. 

He sucks in a deep breath, turning and leaving the bottle in the corner of the balcony where it’s out of her reach. 

“Do you think your parents love you?”

The question turns his attention back to her. 

“Why do you ask that?” His voice is quiet and low as he sits himself between her and the bottle. “You know I would say no but I can’t say that in front of you.”

“Do you think they did what they did solely for the family’s name?”

“Their defence would be that I get to live with the benefits. So-”

“I’m not talking about them, I’m asking about what you think.”

Juyeon pauses to think, but Jang Won speaks first anyway.

“I think they do, you know. That they do love you. They just... grew up in an environment where they’re just doing what their parents did for them. They turned out fine, so I think they just assume you’ll turn out fine as well.”

“‘Fine’ now is different from being ‘fine’ in the 1960s and 70s,” Juyeon leans his head against the metal bars keeping him safe within the balcony. 

Jang Won’s head was resting against the backseat of the sofa chair, hair dribbled all over the woven wooden strips and her eyes reflecting the dim, amber balcony lights from above. She’s tired, and definitely feeling like the entire world is against her. 

If she squinted hard enough, she could barely make out the huge H&A signs stuck to the side of shopping malls all around the city. By now, she can feel her cheeks heat up from the alcohol ingested in such a short amount of time, but luckily for her, the amber lights are helping the pink in her cheeks camouflage into her skin. 

She turns to find Juyeon staring at the bottle’s label, like he were memorizing the details of it.

“I’ll get you a new bottle,” Juyeon holds the neck and grunts as he stands, hands reaching for the cork on the stand. “Also, your cheeks are pink. I think that’s good enough reason to get you to sleep.”

Juyeon reaches for the door grip to slide it open, pulling it open just a few inches. 

“I miss my mom.”

He stops. 

“Tomorrow’s her death anniversary,” She whispers under her breath. “It’s been five long years without her.”

They lock eyes, but Jang Won turns away first. 

“Hera’s Manor was meant for the both of us. The blueprint of the house... every room and every statue purchased and made the way we wanted it to be made. But before the house could be moved into, she leaves me. All alone.”

Jang Won’s eyes flit to Juyeon, and he can’t look at her in the eye. He’s not used to her opening up like this, but it’s all thanks to the champagne anyway. Never in a million years would she bother to do this if she wasn’t tipsy. 

“I mean... Does she know I’m here now? In this very spot, wondering what had gone wrong?”

Juyeon lowers his head and seals his eyes shut. The guilt stirs within him.

“I wish I could tell her that I’m okay, at least. She always worried about me more than Younghoon, for some strange reason, because I was a girl in the administration of The Board,” Her voice cracks and Juyeon’s eyes are open now. “And yet, I’m the one taking care of him now.”

She gulps loudly, trying her best to swallow the ball of sobs stuck in her throat. Shaking her head and prying out a painful smile, she finally snaps when she looks down into her lap where her hands are.

Gritting her teeth, and pursing her lips, it’s a meagre attempt at trying to stop the hiccups that are already in the back of her mouth. The tears begin to collect in her palms and kiss the material of her pajama pants, the warmth seeping through the cotton and sticking it to her thighs. 

The shuffling rustles through her left ear, followed by a soft thud of the glass decanter, and then she feels a warmth hold her hands. Cold tears bleed through the lines of their palms when she opens her eyes, just barely, to meet Juyeon’s. 

He’s got a painful, pitiful look in his eyes that she would punch him in the face for, but even she can’t disagree that she was being a sad mope right now. 

“Your mother knows,” He nods, reaching up to her forehead and pushing a strand of hair out of her tear streaks. “I promise you.”

Her facial muscles crush towards the middle when the sobs finally break past her discipline, and she crumbles her face into her hands. The sorrow in Juyeon carefully motivates her off the seat, and he shuffles to get his back against the metal bars of the balcony, and her in his arms between his legs. 

His nose sours and his vision starts to blur when he can feel her torso shiver and jerk with every sob he hears. The side of her head nestles into his left shoulder, hands tightly clenched together against her stomach with his elbow resting on her bent knees. 

He parts his lips to inhale, but he looks down to watch the tears drip off her chin. 

“Are you going to meet Younghoon to see your mother tomorrow?” He whispers, gently pushing her hair out of her tears. 

She sniffles, wiping away the mucus on her philtrum. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” He nods, keeping her head on his shoulder. “I’ll go with you.”

“Okay.”

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Surprising Finds

Summary- 1.7k. Ransom Drysdale x You. Bucky Barnes x You. Ransom said you could do whatever you want. So you decided you wanted to go antiquing much to his dismay. Warnings- probably a word or two. But honestly its fluff. Divider made by @firefly-graphics​

A/N- I found out @sagechanoafterdark​‘s birthday is coming up. As its a surprise, I didn't ask but I did take some inspiration from her personal series Held For Ransom and All Good Things. Both fantastic series and should be checked out. I hope you have a wonderful day Sage and thank you for reading all my rambles in your DM’s. 

Ransom perched his sunglasses on the end of his nose as he peered over the frames to the quaint storefront you had him stop at. There was a couple tables displaying some nice dishes and other kitchen appliances, above them in the awning were hanging baskets of morning glories lifting to the morning sunlight and giving the whole store a welcoming feeling. “Here? This is where you wanted to stop Y/N? It looks abandoned.” 

You were digging in your purse and pulling out a few bills to stuff in your pocket before pushing your bag to the floorboard and under the passenger side car seat. “It does not look abandoned. There is an open sign right in the door.” 

“Is that even a legit sign? It looks like something someone plastered it there to draw in unsuspecting tourists so they can trap them and torture them. There is a Saks just another hour away we will be passing. You can find whatever you want there.” He tried reasoning with you, about to turn the car back on when you reached over and slipped the keys from the ignition and smirked at him. 

“Nice try Ransom, but today was about what I wanted to do.” You slipped out of the car, leaving him there huffing at you and pushing his sunglasses back up his nose and following you. He did agree this morning to those terms. Of course you might have coerced him with playful kisses on his chest while straddling him, giving him the look.

That look. 

The cursed look you could pull off whenever you caught him off guard. Fuck it Drysdale, you should have known better. 

“Well if I had known you were going to drag me to the middle of some bum fuck town in the middle of nowhere to look at other people's junk, I would have planned out a trip for us instead.” He complained in a slightly accusing tone as you shrugged while pushing open the door with some effort, blinking in the sudden dim lighting that accompanied antique stores typically. 

“Stay in the car then Hugh, you can't ruin this for me.” Almost flippant sounding, not caring. Oh that tone could drive him nuts.

“Don't call me that.” he snapped. 

“Then quit acting like I'm forcing you to come with me against your will.” You shot back with a smirk, knowing that you could so easily get under his skin. Peering around now that your eyes adjusted. So far no one had come from the counter to greet them, so you just wandered into the building. Ransom was not far behind, picking up random things and rolling it in his hands before setting them back down. You hummed happily while lifting box covers and pulling out old records, reading titles and sifting through a few piles of magazines and books littering the shelves. “See, it's not so bad.” 

Ransom, who was currently glancing in a glass case with some fine gold jewelry and coins yanked his sunglasses off and perched them atop his head. “It's okay, but it's still full of junk.” He made a pointed glance at a gaudy relic of a mime painting leaning against a wall. 

“Sure, you have to seek out the treasures in here.” You countered while sidling up towards him, loping your arm around his waist while looking in the case before moving towards the painting he had so adamantly pointed out. “What do you say, we could always gift this to Linda?” You teased and Ransom moved beyond the glass case to stand in front of it, laughing. 

“Are you saying my mother would enjoy that?” Ransom quirked a brow as you made a move to stand a bit away, holding it out at arms length and making you giggle. 

“Hell I know she would hate it, but how funny would it be to see her attempt to say thank you while we are offering to hang it on her wall?” 

“She wouldn't even try. She would flat out say hell no.” Ransom shook his head and pulled out the painting behind it, grimacing at the next one. Some portrait of a man, looking stoic in the portrait, it actually reminded Ransom of his Harlen's portrait that he was sure Marta still had hanging in memory of his grandfather. “Besides, it's probably haunted or some shit.” 

You were about to point out why it was an even better gift then to torture Linda with when a male’s voice interrupted them. You both turned at the same time to see someone come out the back room. 

Coffee colored hair framed around a warm face, dog tags bouncing off his chest as he grunted with effort dropping off a heavy looking box behind the cash register. “I can assure you it is not haunted. Not that piece at least.” The man brushed the dust off his hands as he came around to greet them. “But I'm afraid I can't tell you the story behind it. I'm just helping today. The store owner happens to be at an estate sale. But anything you have an interest in, I can have her call you. My name is Bucky, if you need any other kind of help.” He smiled warmly, holding his hand out which you shook, then Ransom afterwards, introducing yourselves as well.

You had to admit he had caught you by surprise. Your breath hitched a bit and you felt Ransom stiffen next to you, having heard it as well. “We are just here to look around, not for anything in particular. But thanks for the offer.” You mention while Ransom wraps an arm over your shoulder, you could feel him posturing slightly, a puff to his chest, a rumble of a “We are fine, thanks.” 

Bucky retreated back to his project after you two moved away further into the store, looking over old knick knacks and vases that you had an interest in. Ransom loosened up once you two were alone again. 

“What was that about?” You asked while moving to a clothes rack, picking up an extravagant hat and perching it on your head. 

“What was what about?” he asked, grabbing a scarf and draping it around your neck, pulling you closer. A signature smirk on perfect pink lips upturned slightly. “You look dashing by the way.” 

You narrow your gaze as he drops his head to nip at your lips, pressing your hands to firm pecs under his shirt. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” you whispered while he continued to tease you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he pulled away. 

“I heard that gasp of yours.” He pulled the scarf off while you did the same with the hat, moving into another section of the store. “You think he’s cute.” 

You paw through some random box of items, picking through mugs and utensils. “So what if I did?” 

Ransom curled the tip of his nose at your response and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, seeing a moment of self doubt that you knew he dealt with, although you two have brushed on the subject a few times, you knew it lingered. You roll your eyes to yourself with a half smile and turn back to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Sure hes cute, but does he drive me insane and fuck me so good I’m screaming his name? Or bring me my morning coffee in bed? Do I wear his favorite sweater around the house to tease him? That's a hell no, only you get that Ransom.” 

“You are a menace.” Ransom shook his head, that doubt melting from his eyes and turning sharp again with your statement. 

“Hell, calling the kettle black their Drysdale.” You grin while taking his hand and leading him to the next table. Ransom was about to follow when he pulled up short, picking up a decanter made from cut crystal. 

“Okay this I want.” He let go of your hand, admiring the rest of the set. You folded your arms over your chest, smirking at him. 

“See, complain the whole time and look who’s the first one to find something they just had to have.” 

You stood at your kitchen counter mixing together some dried tea leaves to pack into a tea ball when you felt a pair of arms circle around your waist and a broad chest press against your back. “Welcome home Doll.” came the Brooklyn accent that made you smile, looking over your shoulder with a quick peck to his lips. 

“It's good to be back. I got some really nice items so that once they are cleaned up they will look excellent displayed in the front there. Did you have any customers?” You turned back to your tea, dipping it in a cup and pouring the steaming water over it. Soon the calming aroma of lavender wafted over you two while Bucky and you retreated towards the living room. He settled first and you curled into his side. 

His fingers smoothed along your thigh while he recounted the day to you. A few small sales, some of the vintage dresses that so many loved finding in good condition, a rather nice dresser you had hoped would find a good home and collectible teddy bears that you guessed would go quickly. 

“... then a younger couple came in. They had a whole mess of stuff they took with them. That decanter set you had laying around went. And the woman found herself a “I’m The Boss” mug she insisted on much to his dismay.” Bucky chuckled softly recalling the expressions. “They were looking at the paintings in the corner. Assuming that mime one was haunted, it is kind of creepy.”

You giggled while sipping your tea. “It is, I hate that thing, but people are really into that shit. Good thing they didn't take that one behind it. That one actually does have a spirit attached to it.” 

“The old man portrait?” 

You nodded while tugging a blanket off the back of the couch and cuddling into it, wrapping the two of you up while reaching for the remote. “Oh yes, he's been with that thing for years. Harmless really, you can catch him when you smell cigar smoke. He just likes to hang out. I offered to move him on, but he insists he's happy right where he is.” 

Bucky was quiet a moment and tugged you in closer. “I can understand that.”

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 13: Hogsmeade

A Loki fanfiction!

Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

------------------------

It was a brisk fall morning where the first chill of the coming winter snuck up on you. You wrapped your scarf around your neck tighter and yawned. Another restless night passed with terrifying dreams of Fenris and the bloodbath he left behind him.

You stood in a loose huddle of several students outside the entrance doors to the school. There was the sound of chitchat in the air as you all waited for the teachers. The trees swayed in the wind and a yellowing leaf fell in a spiral and landed on your shoulder. Valkyrie walked over to you with a smile on her face as you brushed off the leaf. It faded slightly upon looking at you.

“Are you okay?” she said, watching you.

You nodded with another yawn. “Bad dreams.”

“Dreams...or something else?”

You might have answered her but were cut off when Pom and Nila came up to the both of you. They had excited smiles on their faces.

“I can’t believe we finally get to go to Hogsmeade!” Pom said with a smile.

Nila agreed exuberantly. “I’ve been itching to go to Honeydukes!”

Valkyrie raised a brow. “Don’t forget we have the ball on Wednesday night, ladies. I, for one, am planning on gettin’ some before everything goes to shit.”

Pom looked at Valkyrie wide eyed while Nila blushed. “Getting what?” Pom said.

You and Valkyrie snort-laughed and Nila started giggling. Pom continued to ask Valkyrie what she was talking about when Professor Heimdall and Professor Fandral arrived at the top of the stairs.

Professor Heimdall wore a long tan cloak over his robes and clasped his hands in front of him. “Students, you will be split off into two groups. One with me and one with Professor Fandral. We are incorporating a buddy system, so pick a partner and do not separate from them. This year we were not planning to go to Hogsmeade, but upon reviewing many requests and with careful planning, we believe it is acceptable. What is not acceptable,” he said, passing a look to each student; his eyes lingered on you briefly, “is to leave your buddy, or your group and venture off alone. The grounds are no longer as safe as they were before. Be wise.”

He said no more as Professor Fandral began to split the groups. You, Valkyrie, Nila and Pom excitedly climbed into a carriage, which eventually trailed behind Professor Heimdall’s. His warning stayed with you as you thought about long teeth and hungry eyes. Despite the fear that had permanently settled in the pit of your stomach, you enjoyed feeling the fresh air on your skin as the carriages took off. The wind was cold, but you had not realized how stifling it was in the castle until you had been outside.

You wondered what a carriage ride with Professor Laufeyson would be like. A blush creeped to your cheeks when you thought about detention with him from a couple of nights ago. The word ‘master’ rested on your lips like a secret behind everything else you said out loud. It was just for him. That night, you went back to your room in a heated daze and wondered what you had gotten yourself into. But the more you thought about it, the more your heart raced with want. You enjoyed calling him master, and you liked the way he looked at you when you did.

“What is going on in that head of yours?” Valkyrie said, elbowing you.

You jerked upright and smiled bashfully. “Nothing, I’m just thinking about what to wear.”

Just then, Pom and Nila deep dived into their clothing assessments and what was in season versus not. You absolutely had no idea how they had obtained this information, but appreciated the feedback. After a long lecture about colour coordination and matching shoes and accessories while balancing complementary colour contrast, the carriages finally arrived at Hogsmeade.

The four of you stuck together and plowed your way through Hogsmeade in a thorough fashion. First you visited Honeydukes, which was decorated completely in black for the season; it was as if the whole shop were dipped in an inkwell. Nila bought an entire bag worth of chocolate frogs, Burtie Botts, every flavour beans, blood pops (to which you wrinkled your nose), and cauldron cakes. Valkyrie bought bouncing bubbly which was a soft drink that made her bounce as if she was on the moon. The novelty wore off quickly since Valkyrie quite enjoyed bouncing above you and smacking your head. You were relieved once you entered Gladrags; there was a strict no enchantment policy and Valkyrie had to stand outside until the effects wore off. The three of you snickered and gave her a mock wave through the window. As she bounced in place, she mouthed: “I could murder you in your sleep, you know.”

You laughed and walked into the store, looking at the various fabrics and clothes they had on display. There were enchanted mannequins walking through the store and dancing every now and again for the customers. A small girl tugged at her father’s coat and pointed to a model just a few inches taller than her. Its face was a flat piece of wood and the thing danced around the girl, doing a pirouette with the bright green dress it was wearing along the way. The girl was mesmerised. You smiled and had to give credit to Gladrags; they knew how to market.

Pom and Nila immediately ran to the hats section where there were shelves upon shelves of all sorts of hats. Plumes of feathers stuck to the side of a large orange hat, while another was a green beret seemingly constructed of snakeskin. One hat seemed to have no set shape or colour, but was a fluid moving thing that sparkled when the light hit it. All the hats were magnificent, though you were never much of a hat person. You went to the back, near the sale items, to see if there was anything that you could afford. It had been quite a year gathering enough money to meet your supplies and tuition costs for the year. You hoped that once you aced all your exams, a scholarship or internship could be earned. Though once you saw Professor Laufeyson’s memories, your thoughts about joining the ministry were on pause.

As if the devil himself heard, you heard a familiar voice from your left.

“Good morning, Miss Eves,” Professor Laufeyson said.

You flinched, nearly knocking over a nearby twirling mannequin which actually hissed at you. “Professor! What are you doing here?”

His eyes narrowed, and he looked as if you had committed a grave mistake. “What was that?”

“I-” You thought about it for a moment. Ah yes….your voice got lower, “Master, what are you doing here?”

He lit up and smiled at you. You wondered if you would ever get used to that.

“I have some business to attend to,” he said.

It was hard not to roll your eyes at how insanely cryptic he was. You were about to question further, but Valkyrie came.

“Professor! Fancy seeing you here,” she said, looking between you and him. You tried to put on your most neutral expression.

“Hogsmeade used to be quite the haunt for me when I was a student here,” Professor Laufeyson said, glancing out the window. “I particularly enjoyed Zonko’s. Well, are you young ladies finding dresses for the ball?”

“Yes!” Pom said from behind a rack of clothes. “And we found the perfect one for you, Freya,” she said, bringing out a frilly dark purple dress that had a mermaid style bottom and an attached cloak that looked more like a cape.

Valkyrie gasped with laughter when you took the dress and promised Pom you would try it on. You thanked her and elbowed Valkyrie. Professor Laufeyson looked as if he was trying to conceal a small smile.

The other girls left in a mad dash when Nila spotted a row of silk scarves that were on sale. Valkyrie went with them, giving you a strange look that showed you would be interrogated very soon.

“You better go try on that aubergine of a dress,” Professor Laufeyson said with a smirk.

You laughed. “I think I’m going to go with my outfit from last year,” you said, putting the purple nightmare back on the rack. “These new fashion trends are getting out of hand, they’re not for me.”

Professor Laufeyson grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him. Your heart raced as he held your face in his hand. You prayed no one saw you. “Nothing here could do justice to the body underneath these clothes,” he said, his voice husky. Just as you leaned in towards him, he pulled away. You made the tiniest annoyed sound, and he chuckled.

He said goodbye, and you joined up with the girls to continue on their shopping spree. Nila had gotten a peach coloured dress that had a tight waist and billowing skirt. Pom got a short purple dress that was clean cut and cute. Valkyrie got a crimson dress that had a courageous slit down the side and a neckline that wound around her neck in a halter top. Your stomachs rumbled loudly, so the four of you headed into the Three Broomsticks, a pub down the road. Since Hogsmeade knew well that Hogwarts students were coming in today, they allowed minors into the pub.

You sat at a table and were surprised to see Professor Laufeyson sitting rather reluctantly with Professor Heimdall and Professor Fandral. They did not see the four of you slip into the booth just behind them, a wall between you. There was enough chatter in the pub to conceal your voices, though you kept it down just enough to hear what the teachers were saying.

Someone cleared their throat. You recognized Heimdall’s voice; it was rich and deep. “Loki, how is your semester going so far?”

Professor Laufeyson’s voice was effortless, as usual. “Teaching is such a noble profession, I ought to have tried it much earlier in life.”

“You were missing from the staff meeting last Saturday,” Heimdall said. His words asked without stating explicitly, why?

Professor Laufeyson let out a small laugh. “I had to drop everything and come here after Hubert’s passing, so when I can I must tie up some loose ends.”

“What might Loki Laufeyson’s loose ends be, I wonder?” Heimdall said, his voice low.

The server came by and dropped off drinks at their table. He then came to your table and took your orders. The other girls had lost interest at this point and began chatting, but you craned your neck to the edge of the wall to keep listening.

“...yes, I will be in and out after the ball. Business to attend to before we dive head first into midterms,” Professor Laufeyson said.

He was leaving? You wondered. He had told you he would not go after Fenris until the coldest night of winter, and you believed that. Your fingers tapped nervously, thinking about what else he was up to. Aside from seeing him in class and detention, you had no way of knowing where he was or what he was doing. It was not as if he was even remotely communicative about his life. The most you knew about him was from breaking into his memory bank like a thief in the night.

The conversation shifted to Professor Fandral talking about his wife and children and how difficult it was to leave them for semesters at a time. Eventually, their chairs shuffled and the four of you put your heads down and ate your meals. Your shepherd’s pie had gone cold but was still quite delicious.

About an hour later, you were back in the school, heading to your common room, evading Valkyrie so she would not ask you about Professor Laufeyson. You were just not ready to have any sort of proper conversation about it yet. You had no idea what was happening, and a part of you felt immensely guilty about the whole thing. At least if it was your personal secret, you could chalk it up to a delusion or dream and still function properly. But once you verbalized it, it was real. Far too real for anything you wanted to deal with now.

In the hall, you spotted a ghostly figure running towards you. Well, half of a ghostly figure. The legs and torso of Crazy Collin ran past you in a gust of cool air. A few minutes later, you saw the upper part floating by.

“‘Ave you seen me legs?” he said. His translucent face was even younger than you.

You pointed behind you. “They went that way.” You smiled as he waved at you and floated onwards in search of his legs. He was always found roaming the halls searching for the bottom half of his body, and it was a fun game that occupied most first years, helping Crazy Collin find his legs.

Suddenly, you thought about Pom’s brother Ken, who now had a missing arm, and your smile disappeared. Most of the time you had laughed at the ghosts of Hogwarts, but you realized they were all people once who had died an awful death. The thought both sobered and saddened you.

***

The next day you were seated in potions class with Pom next to you, taking notes on the use of a bezoar. Professor Laufeyson had put on a slideshow and you tried not to yawn, though his voice was like melted honey.

Something hit the side of your head and fell at your feet. You glanced around before picking it up.

“What is it?” Pom whispered.

It was a crumpled piece of paper and upon unrolling it, you saw an enchanted drawing of two stick figures dancing. One of them had two circles for its breasts and an arrow pointing to the figure that said “You” and the other stick figure had an arrow that said “Me”. You looked up and saw Nathan Gill, the sixth year Quidditch announcer, smiling at you. He pointed to you, then he mimed a little slow dance, and then pointed to himself, all the while mouthing the words, “Do you want to go to the ball with me?”

The paper was snatched from your hand before you could react and you were horrified to see Professor Laufeyson standing over you with a grim expression. “Passing notes in class?” He said with a touch of venom. After reading the note aloud in class for everyone to laugh at, he took five points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

“Harsh,” Pom said, and you did not reply.

At the end of class, you escaped out the door before meeting Professor Laufeyson’s eye, since you were far too embarrassed. Then Nathan found you.

“So, Eves, you want to go with me?” He said, brandishing a daring smile.

He was a year younger than you, though he was taller and his face was not all boyish. His brown eyes held an air of confidence and his dark brown skin glowed in the torchlights. He leaned against the wall next to you, casual yet focused on your face in a way that made you blush. You wished you could seriously consider him. Perhaps if he had come to you only a month earlier, you would not be in this mess at all. A boy like him was normal. A boy like him was far better suited for you. But alas, even though you thought he was invariably handsome and were somewhat attracted to his presence, your heart was doomed to stay in one place.

You smiled at him and were about to speak when Pom piped up out of nowhere, “yes she’s gonna go with you!”

Nathan smiled so brightly that you felt the words escape you. He leaned in and tucked a hair behind your ear. “See you then,” he said in a low voice and walked off with his friends.

Just then, Professor Laufeyson passed by with an icy expression. He glanced at you and Pom as if you were stones on the wall and continued on his way, not giving you another look. Your heart sank while Pom excitedly grabbed your arm. “Oh my god, Gill is so cute! Sorry I stepped in, but I had to! I thought you were going to throw up or say no, so I did what any good friend ought to do.” She smiled at you and you nodded hollowly, wondering what Professor Laufeyson had thought.

You were on your way to the Great Hall for lunch as you puzzled about Nathan. Pom had gone to the infirmary to check on her brother. The staircase you were climbing up moved and pulled you away from your path and down an empty corridor that would add another ten minutes to your walk. A sigh escaped your lips as you continued to wonder. Why would he ask you? You barely talked to him. Once you had given him ink when he ran out, and so perhaps he was just being nice -

A hand grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you into a room you had not realized was there. The door shut and vanished, leaving only stone, and you were slammed against the wall with a hard body against yours. The familiar scent of flora and musk hit your senses, and you gazed into a pair of cold blue eyes. His hand clasped around your throat as he leaned in and spoke in your ear.

“Did you think you could get away with being such a tease?” Professor Laufeyson said, his voice was a growl.

You dropped your books and panted. “W-what do you mean sir - er, I mean - Master?”

“That boy was all over you like a dog. Did you hope to make me jealous?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said. Fear bubbled in your stomach at his aggression, but more than that was another feeling...One that was going to get you into deep trouble. Your cheeks flushed, and you felt desire bloom within you. The feeling of his hand on your throat only made it worse - or better - and you felt your core tighten.

He laughed darkly and for a moment; you wondered if it had all been a joke. Then his eyes grew fierce, and he stopped smiling. “It worked.”

You gazed up at him and licked your lips reflexively. His pupils dilated, and he lost his composure. His lips collided with yours and you felt the heat of his breath against you. They were the softest lips you had ever felt, but they crashed onto yours with a ferocity that made your knees weak. He pushed you into the wall to deepen the kiss and you wound your hands around him, one hand reaching up to the back of his head.

He moved his free hand down and cupped your bottom. You raised your right leg around his waist, which he held in place. Your tongues clashed, and you licked his lips as if you were back in a dream. He lifted your other leg, so you were now pinned against the wall, straddling him. He pushed into you and you wrapped your arms around him tightly. There were no thoughts, only the feeling of his fingers digging into your body as his mouth invaded yours. When you felt his erection against your core, a cry escaped your lips. He rubbed it against you once more and you bit his lip, hard.

He chuckled and gently pulled away from you, easing you down. You gazed at each other as if your eyes were magnetically locked. Both of you panted and wiped the corners of your mouth. “You’ve grown quite...assertive, Miss Eves,” he said in a rough voice. He tried to put on a candid act, but you saw through it. He was trying to suppress his desire.

You stepped towards him and put a hand on his chest. “I don’t want to go to the ball with anybody else,” you said.

His face froze, not knowing what to show you. So he chuckled and spun you around, putting a hand on your collarbone. His thumb grazed your throat, and you wondered if flames would erupt across your skin. “You will go to the ball with this boy,” he said. And he licked your ear and bit the lobe. You closed your eyes and nearly moaned. “You will dance with him, have a drink, and do what young women do at balls,” he said as he moved his other hand to your waist, squeezing it. “And at the end of the night, you will come to my room, and I will punish you for all of it. Do we have an understanding?”

Breathlessly, you said, “yes Master.”

He let go of you and bowed slightly, as if you were a proper lady and not the girl he just ravished against the wall. “Good girl,” he said with a wink.

You were thrown so back and forth with his words that your lust had slowly transformed into a deep hunger...and your stomach growled unceremoniously, loudly. He chuckled at the sound as you crossed your arms around yourself, trying to block out the noise.

“Perhaps we should return to the Great Hall and get you well fed. You need to keep up your energy for the ball,” he said.

You looked around at your surroundings. It was an empty stone room with no doors and a large chandelier in the ceiling. “Where are we?”

He waved his hand at the wall closest to you and a wooden door appeared. “This is the room of requirement,” he said. “It is a room that only appears when you are in great need of it, and it also becomes the room that you need.”

You raised your brows as you passed through the door with him into the empty hall. The door disappeared as if the room was not there. You touched the stone and knocked on it, but it was just a continuous wall. “Just when I thought this place had finished amazing me,” you said.

“Hogwarts will never cease to amaze, love,” Professor Laufeyson said. He stopped when you got to the stairs. “Now, I bid you farewell until the ball. Be sure to get into heaps of trouble,” he said, smirking.

“Oh, I will,” you said with a wide smile. The butterflies flowed freely through your body and you felt electrified. Suddenly, the ball had gotten much more exciting and you could not wait for Wednesday night.

You ran down the corridor, back to the main level, where several students ran past you. The smell of food wafted through the halls and your stomach grumbled more, so you picked up the pace. Another scent caught your nose, and you wondered what it was, since it definitely was not food. As you walked, you realized that the floor was covered in water. Puzzled, you entered the main corridor which led to the Great Hall and found a large crowd of students standing there.

You spotted Valkyrie ahead of you, so you pushed your way through several students, mumbling an apology, and tapped her shoulder. She looked at you grimly and gestured to the wall with her eyes. When your gaze followed, you stepped back with a hand to your chest. There was a message on the wall, written in blood. The nauseating scent of iron was thick in the air. The message wrote:

The beast has awakened...Enemies of the heir, beware...

[hxneyandespressx]

the holidate

summary: emily and jennifer pair up to be platonic dates for Christmas and New Year’s. little did they know, real feelings would be caught along the way. 

pairing: emily prentiss x jennifer jareau (jemily)

word count: 4.9k

☆。*。☆。

Sitting by the bar, Emily took a sip of her second drink of the night. It was nearing Christmas, and the bar was filling up with lonely singles and a few happy couples. At this time in the night, the bar usually would be packed. Now that it was the holiday season, there was less of a turnout. The noirette had been here for a little while, an hour at most, and was drinking her dread away. She hoped to avoid the questions to come at the upcoming family gathering. Every year, on her vacation to her mother’s mansion, all of her extended family members asked Emily one of the following questions:

“Do you have a boyfriend?” 

“How’s your career going?”

“What’s it like working in London?”

As she thought about visiting them, Emily sat her head down on the countertop. She had been dreading the visit for weeks. Her family could be a bit much, intense one might call it. There were always arguments between the conservative uncles. Endless gossiping amongst the aunts. Even her grandmother would take her time picking apart all of Emily’s flaws. Never once had there been a quiet holiday without someone (usually Emily) creating chaos, dampening everyone’s festive mood.

Several minutes had passed, her head hanging low from stress, and Emily felt a warm presence standing beside her, leaning against the bar casually. This stranger was able to find a spot due to the bar being at fifty percent capacity. Usually, one would not be able to find a spot to sit down at. 

Turning her head at a slight angle, out of the corner of her deep russet eyes, Emily saw the most beautiful woman that she had seen in her entire life. Dressed in a long-sleeved, baby blue mid-length dress with a pair of velvet thigh-high boots, with a black wool peacoat, a petite blonde smiled softly at Emily.

“Drinking your sorrows away tonight?” The blonde said while softly smirking and gesturing at the red lipstick-lined glass. Emily chuckled. 

“Sorry. I just hate going back home for the holidays.” Emily sat up from her previous position, gazing into her almost empty drink.  

“Don’t worry. I feel the same way. By the way, I’m Jennifer,” the blonde held out her hand, “but my friends call me JJ.”

“Emily.” The women shook hands then JJ took the seat next to the slouching woman. The stranger called over the bartender and ordered a blood orange cosmopolitan. 

“A Cosmo. Fancy, aren’t we?” Emily asked with a hint of a teasing tone. 

“Liking a fruity cocktail doesn’t hurt anyone.” The bartender hand over JJ her drink and she took a few sips to get the evening going. 

Emily shrugged her shoulders and took a long sip of her drink. Indie Christmas music played in the background as the two women sat in silence. 

“So… what’s the family like?” JJ decided to start some small talk. What else was there to do at a pub on a Tuesday evening? 

“You know… the typical family from the Capitol. A high-powered mother who’s career-driven, a sprinkle of conservative uncles who care about traditions, a dash of gossiping aunts who only cared about themselves, and the cousins whom you haven’t talked to in years. And the crazy grandmother who’s funeral is right around the corner. Then there’s the dead beat dad. And finally, the lonely and depressed single woman who wants to bring someone home for the holidays so then she won’t get pestered by the family with questions. Hint: that one’s me,” Emily shook her head at herself for spilling out the truth of the Prentiss family. “I can only do so much to tolerate them.”

Emily took another sip of her drink.

“Sorry for spilling my guts out. Holidays can be tough, am I right?”  JJ chuckled softly and passively waved her hand, understanding where Emily came from. JJ’s home life hadn’t been the best. Her sister died. Her parents divorced. The perfect brew for a lonely middle-aged woman.

“Don’t worry about it,” JJ gently laughed. “I didn’t travel back home for Christmas this year because my mother and I aren’t on speaking terms.” 

“Ah…I’m sorry about that.” Emily understood what it was like not having a caring mother. It was difficult to handle, but both Emily and JJ made it through in their own circumstances. 

A shared emotion loomed over the pair: the experience of being lonely during the holidays. JJ felt something stir in her heart. Perhaps a sign telling her to go with her instincts. Maybe something new could be starting between them? JJ furrowed her brow, brainstorming ideas to spend more time with the not-so-strange stranger next to her. The gears turned in her mind. She had to take this opportunity, or else it would slip away — to be forgotten forever. 

“You know… I do need a partner for a New Year’s Eve party that I got invited to.” JJ said nonchalantly. The blonde was interested in this Emily character. She had to think of a way to see her again. 

Emily raised her eyebrows and did her crooked smile. 

“I can take you to the party if I get to take you as my friend-date to a Christmas gala that my family attends every year,” Emily countered, “It gets super lonely when you’re the only single, middle-aged woman there.” The brunette set down her third and final drink down for the night. 

“Platonic? As in two strangers getting together as friends? During the holiday season?” JJ said, lifting her perfectly coiffed left eyebrow.

“That’s what I’m proposing.” JJ twiddled with her rings nervously underneath the countertop. She did not want Emily to see how anxious she got. 

Emily took some time to think about the situation she was getting herself into. 

“So… we agree that we are going to be each other’s holiday dates, as friends?” JJ asked Emily as she took a small black booklet and a pen out of her purse. Emily hummed as she sipped her drink, signifying a “yes.”

Writing her phone number down in light blue ink, JJ said, “I guess you can call me ‘babe’ for the weekend.” JJ winked at Emily when she looked up from her mini notebook.  

A slight peachy blush formed on Emily’s chiseled cheekbones. The blonde ripped the piece of paper from her little notebook, folded it into a neat square, and placed it in the hands of a blushing Emily. JJ noticed the blush and tried her best to not stare at the gorgeous woman in front of her. 

Placing some money as a tip for the bartender, JJ gestured “call me soon” at Emily, leaving the woman sitting by the bar flustered, wondering to herself what she had gotten herself into.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

December 23rd. Dread showed on Emily’s face. She gave herself a pep talk before knocking on the wooden door with the polished brass door knocker. Already regretting her decision, Emily knotted her scarf for the second time to keep the chill wind from nipping her already rosy nose and cheeks. Wanting to keep warm, Emily took out her zippo lighter and pack of cigarettes. She lit one up as she waited out in the cold. 20 minutes went by and Emily noticed a short dark figure approaching the main door. 

Taking her last drag of smoke, the young woman dropped her cigarette and stomped on it to get rid of the evidence from her mother. Just to be safe, Emily popped in a few mints to disguise her breath. Then, the door opened, and behind it was Emily’s mother. Elizabeth Prentiss. 

“Hello, mother,” Emily snarled with a hint of disgust. 

“Emilia.” Elizabeth had a neutral expression when facing Emily. She opened the door wider, letting her daughter in, along with the frosty winter air of December. As she entered the expertly decorated house, Emily took in the scene of the living room. Her little cousins were chasing each other. The uncles were drinking mulled wine and discussing the current events. The aunts were gossiping and making snide comments about their social circle. As Emily walked past her extended family members, a field of judgy looks followed her. Emily sighed, grudgingly waiting for the influx of questions from her aunts and uncles while putting her coat onto the coat hanger, and headed towards the snack bar. While nibbling on some toasted almonds, Emily felt a looming presence next to her. Without hesitation, Emily looked into her mother’s eyes, saying the words leave me alone silently. 

“You’re not still smoking, are you?” Elizabeth inquired. 

“Uh… no mother, I’m not still smoking. It was just a smoky Uber.”

“No man wants to marry a smoker.” 

Emily rolled her deep umber eyes as she walked away from the one person that she resented all these past years. 

���Any time I come home for the holidays, I’m showered in a sea of pity and sad glances,” Emily scoffed in anger. “I mean, why is everyone so suspicious of a happy single woman?”

“We just want the best for you, Emilia.”

“Whatever, mother.” Wanting to stay away from Elizabeth, Emily made her home with the home bar. 

 Couldn’t her mother see how disgusted she was at the mention of “man”? Well, how could she even know her, when Elizabeth Prentiss left Emily, only to be taken care of by a nanny. Since Elizabeth was the US ambassador, she put her career first, family second. Emily always felt she was second to her mother’s career. Well, at least her mother was okay with her being a lesbian. Emily would not say the same for some of the extended family. 

Not wanting to get too hung up on her problems, Emily lent out her helping hands to set up the dinner, to be attended by all of her aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandmother. Since Emily’s grandmother was the eldest in the family, she was seated at the head of the table. The setting had to be up to the Prentiss standard: skillfully decorated with garlands, candles, dinnerware, and neatly-folded napkins. The main dish was placed in the center to showcase the work put into it. After everything got set up, everyone gathered around to start fueling up their famished selves.

Not even ten minutes passed before one of Emily’s aunts asked her the dreaded question.  

“So, Emily. How are your romantic endeavors going? Found a man yet?” 

The thirty-year-old gritted her teeth in frustration. This was the exact conversation that she wanted to avoid. Most of the family acknowledge the fact that Emily Prentiss was in fact, a lesbian. However, they would rather keep quiet about it to remain perfect to their elitist friends.

“I’m dating here and there. Sometimes it does take a while to find the right man for you,” Emily lied through her teeth. She hated doing this every holiday season. Making up lies just to satisfy a person whom Emily only sees on holidays. Emily resented playing the role of “ambassador’s perfect daughter”. She always had ever since her teenage rebellion years.  

At her aunt's satisfied expression, Emily felt like she dodged a bullet. She did not feel like starting up an argument or an intervention. She only said that to please her aunt and everyone else. She had learned to say such things to avoid controversy, learning from her teenage rebellion that it never ended well for Emily.  

The rest of the dinner went on without an uproar, everyone eating and talking with pleasantries. 

Sometime after, the family was sitting around the large living, the fireplace crackling and its warmth filling the room, altogether creating a sense of hygge. One of Emily’s cousins stood up, clearing his throat. 

“Could I have everyone’s attention?” Jake Prentiss — an insufferable lawyer that Emily never really got along with — nervously called out. “I have something to say.” Everyone in the room became quiet and gave the spotlight to the man in the middle.  

He gently grabbed his girlfriend’s hand, making them stand in the center of the room. Emily mouthed a fuck no underneath her breath, standing underneath the kitchen archway in shock. 

“Claire Alexandria Scott, I know it’s only been four months and 8 amazing days,” Jake dropped down on one knee and he took out a small black box, opening it to reveal an engagement ring. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?” 

The whole family cheered in joyous remarks, as the girlfriend-turned-fiancée accepted the proposal and had the ring put on her. Emily groaned at the scene, zipping up her new jacket, hiding her face in the hood. She felt like hiding away in a closet, never to be seen again. 

Frustration boiled within Emily. Why couldn’t she find someone to be happy with? Was the universe playing games with her? Emily always felt that life was a cruel witch, waiting to cast a spell to mess with her. However, this year, Emily felt something different. It was like life was giving her a chance. A chance at love. To be happy, free, in love. Does God want me to be with JJ from the bar? I knew that I felt something when I first saw her. Emily snapped from her thoughts, poured some more wine, and left the joyous celebration that was happening in the family room.  

Later that night, in her townhouse, Emily laid awake on her bed. She could not sleep as she had a lot on her mind. Grabbing her robe and phone, Emily quietly tiptoed downstairs and entered the kitchen. Usually, when Emily was stressed, she baked. It was the quietness she appreciated as the cookies cooked in the oven. But, her mind was filled too much with anxiety and stress from the holidays, so the brunette chose a simple task. 

Few events had happened that day, and everyone expected Emily to find a man and settle down, now that she’s the only one left single and the youngest of those who grew up with Emily. However, Emily usually was not the type to just settle down, even less so with a man. Many thoughts and emotions went through her mind as the young woman silently worked around the kitchen to make a warm beverage to calm her mind. 

Twenty-seven minutes went by and Emily checked the kitchen clock. 3:39 AM brightly lit against the darkness. Sitting by the bay window, Emily stared at the winter scenery, sipping on a hot toddy while watching the snow gently coating the evergreen pines. Her mind filled with thoughts. I wonder what would happen if I called her. Would she say no? Oh God, what if after meeting at the bar, she revoked the offer? 

Emily worried about being questioned by few family members tomorrow, or worse, being rejected by the one woman she had momentarily shown interest in. The middle-aged woman bit her lips in nervousness. Hoping that she felt the same, Emily unlocked her phone with her thumb and opened the messages app. Her phone teased her with the blinking cursor on the brightly lit screen.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Christmas Eve. The family was scrambling around to prepare for the Christmas gala that was supposed to happen that night. The event was to be attended by the A-listers, politicians, anyone of importance. Emily stood in the background of the large family room, sipping on her glass of pinot noir while watching the chaos run amok in front of her. One of the cousins was wrapping presents quickly as a last-minute ditch effort. The children were running around the house, playing tag. Emily’s mother was shouting at people to get ready quickly to take a family photo for her social media accounts.

“Come on, people. We don’t have all day,” Emily’s mother said in an exasperated tone. “All we need is one good picture, then we are good to go for the Christmas gala this evening.” The ambassador tried her best to gather the younger children to the family room. 

The gala. That’s all that Elizabeth talked about. Emily was getting tired of it. She rolled her eyes, knowing that her mother only cared about looking good for the public. Since Elizabeth Prentiss was an ambassador, everything was about appearance and being “perfect”. This put a strain on Emily and her mother’s relationship, as Emily had a tough time conforming to what the politicians and other elite people wanted. 

She sighed in annoyance. Feeling slightly anxious, Emily bit her nails as she waited for her friend-date to arrive at the Prentiss house. Honestly, Emily could care less if a few family members caused an uproar over the fact that Emily was bringing a woman as a date. They knew of Emily being a lesbian, but they abided by the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. One could say that this was Emily’s gesture to finally say “fuck you” to all the conservatives in her family. 

Some time passed and the sound of the doorbell rang. Emily walked over to the main door. She opened the wooden door to greet Jennifer Jareau, all dressed perfectly for the gala.

“Wow, um..” Emily felt lost for words. “You’re….uh… beautiful.” She tried to compose herself. What the hell is wrong with me? This is purely platonic. Why am I feeling butterflies in my stomach?

Emily’s eyes did a quick scan to take in what JJ was wearing: a mid-length black lace dress with a high neck, accompanied by a white faux fur shawl, her golden honey locks perfectly curled and set in place. 

“You look beautiful as well.” JJ whispered underneath her breath, closing in the space between her and Prentiss. Deciding to be sneaky, JJ quickly pecked Emily’s right cheek. The taller woman stood under the doorway in shock, trying to rationalize what just happened. Friends do this right? I mean I know in Europe they do. 

Emily tried to cool her rosy cheeks down as she let in her friend-date. That’s all that it was. Platonic. No strings attached. Just friends attending an event together. 

Elizabeth Prentiss saw from the living room archway what was unfolding at the main doorway. She walked over to her daughter to inquire what her plans for the evening were. 

“Who’s this, Emilia?” 

“Oh.. um... This is Jennifer. She’s my... date,” Emily said. “She’s my plus one for the gala.” A few of Emily’s uncles and aunts huffed and turned their heads away in disapproval. A few of her cousins smiled and silently congratulated her. Clearly, they were eavesdropping on what was happening at the front door. 

Elizabeth squinted her eyes at her daughter.

“That’s okay with me,” Elizabeth turned to JJ, handing her phone to the blonde. “Can you take a photo of the family before we all head over to the gala?”

“Uh sure.” JJ took the ambassador’s phone and took a position in front of the Prentiss family. Emily stood in her stance awkwardly, wishing that this predicament had not happened in the first place. After a few quick snaps, JJ took the pictures and handed the phone back to Elizabeth. 

“Blurry. Boring. Nope. Nope. Nope,” Emily’s mother said as she swiped through the photos JJ took of the family, also commenting on the “style” the blonde took them in. JJ stood there. She felt like she was being lectured by a school teacher. 

“Okay, none of these will do. We will try again tomorrow.” JJ made a neutral expression, almost in disbelief that Emily’s mother would treat her like that. But then again, Emily had told JJ that her mother was like this. Nitpicky, wanting everything to be precise. To be perfect. 

After the photoshoot, everyone quickly headed out to their cars parked outside. JJ rode in an Uber with Emily to their destination. During their ride to the event, the two women talked. Oh, how they talked like they were friends from long ago. They stopped talking only when they arrived at their destination. 

JJ walked down the white marble steps of the venue. Jazz music could be heard all around the place. Christmas decorations neatly brought the whole ambiance together.

“Wow!” JJ was in shock at the number of people on the floor, mingling and drinking. 

“I know it’s a lot… Don’t worry, I got your back.” Emily took JJ from the top of the stairs and straight up to the open bar. 

Emily ordered a vodka soda while JJ ordered a Moscow mule. They laughed when they realized they both ordered something with vodka, just in two different flavors. After grabbing their drinks, both the women socialized with the other people at the gala — or rather Emily did, while JJ, who did not grow up in the eyes of politics, watched the scene. JJ stood there, smiling at the woman in her sight. She couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol or her own feelings, but JJ felt at peace for the first time in a long time. She felt whole. Complete. Loved.  

As she watched Emily Prentiss play the role of ambassador’s daughter, JJ felt a fluttering motion in her heart. It was like the universe was telling JJ that Emily was the one for her. No more second chances. She is the one. And for once, JJ was willing to listen to her heart when it came to this matter. After her four-year relationship with her previous boyfriend, William LaMontagne, ended two years ago, JJ felt she had nothing in the world. A few months after the break-up, the events of her sister’s death and her parents’ divorce unfolded. All of it caused JJ to feel nothing for the next two years. All she focused on was her career. Until that fateful day, at the bar, when she met Emily. 

When JJ entered through those wooden doors of the pub, her eyes first laid on Emily sitting by the bar countertop. Her heart fluttered a little, but JJ ignored it, feeling she wasn’t ready to go into a relationship. But, as she got to know Emily more, JJ slowly but surely fell in love with the brunette. It was definitely love at first sight. JJ was not the type to believe in concepts like that. But she was sure about her feelings for the brunette. 

The blonde, from afar, stared at Emily working her magic to engage the conversation with her mother and a group of elderly men. All of a sudden, Emily’s voice could be heard loud and clear. 

“I’m sorry. You don’t think gay people deserve rights?” Emily questioned while crossing her arms across her chest in anger.

“Well… Just so you know, you are speaking to the lesbian daughter of US ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Yes, I am not the ‘perfect’ daughter, but who cares! Perfect is meaningless in this world. It’s subjective. And I am not sorry for who I am.” Emily stood her ground and walked away from the group she was in with her mother. Elizabeth looked absolutely shocked by that speech. After recovering from the initial shock, the ambassador mouthed I’m proud of you at her daughter. 

Everyone in the venue watched Emily as she headed toward JJ. 

The blonde held out Emily’s drink to hand it over to her. She also poked Emily’s nose, to lighten the mood.

“You okay, Emily?” JJ asked. The taller woman huffed in frustration. Emily felt like she needed space away from the stuffy elitists. 

 “Why don’t we get out of here and take a little breather?” JJ offered. Emily nodded her head in agreement and both women took their jackets and walked out through the glass back doors.

They ducked out of the gala quietly. Snowflakes reflected the warm orange lights from the streetlamps. A type of quietness settled between the “couple”. The crisp winter chilled their flushed cheeks, making them sober up a little.  

The pair stood in the cold, enjoying the silence. But they knew that this would not last forever, as they would have to go their separate ways once the night ended. Emily and JJ continued their walk around the perimeter of the venue for three hours, just talking about every subject there was to think of. Hobbies. Careers. Art. Music. Hopes. Goals. Dreams. They turned around a corner to arrive back at the gala venue. JJ stopped Emily at the front iron gate.  

“Well… tonight’s been fun,” JJ said.  

“I agree. This year’s gala was much more bearable having you by my side.” JJ lightly blushed and barely attempted to hide it with her jacket collar. Emily noticed a tinge of color on JJ’s cheeks and softly smiled. The two women had started to fall for each other, twirling around each other like a pair of ivy vines. 

Unsure of the time, Emily quickly checked her watch. 

“It’s getting late. Want me to drop you off at your place?” Emily offered. JJ smiled happily at the gesture.

“I would love that.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

New Year’s Eve. The music blared from the stereo system. Lights strobed along with the music. Emily and JJ leaned against the stainless steel railing on the balcony, watching the view below. Many drinks were ordered and downed within the one-and-a-half-hour they had been at the party. The slightly drunk women were playing a game where they made up stories about the people dancing below.

“I think the leather-vest-mate’s up now.”  Emily said. 

“Oh, okay, he’s an options trader.” JJ pointed at a silver-haired man dancing with his very young date. “Divorced. Two kids at Northwestern. She was his decorator on the new condo, hoping to be wife number three.” 

“Very good. Very good,” Emily said, looking at JJ and smiling at her story-making skills.

Both the women turned around and Emily jumped quickly on the scene in front of them. 

“Ooh, uh, white satin ruffles. Rented tuxedo. He’s just drenched in sweat. They are definitely getting engaged at midnight.” 

“Wow. You’re good.” JJ said. 

Emily shrugged at the compliment.

“It’s a gift,” Emily drank some more bubbly champagne, feeling a bit friskier than usual. “By the way, your tits look exceptional in that dress.”

“Thanks. That’s why I bought it.” JJ smiled at the compliment and did a little twirl. 

“Overall, you are just beautiful. As always.”

“That’s really sweet of you to notice.” JJ blushed, and she thanked the dark atmosphere of the venue for hiding it. She wouldn’t want her maybe-crush to notice that she was blushing not from the alcohol, but from her burgeoning feelings for the other woman.

Both the women downed their drinks and ordered some more. Once they felt they had enough, the “couple” headed down to the dance floor and had their fun for the night. They danced their feet off. Blew some gigantic bubbles with a long star-shaped bubble wand Beach balls were tossed amongst the crowd. Then the song “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life” came on the speakers. JJ looked towards Emily as the taller woman made way and backed up to provide room for the jump from Dirty Dancing. 

Emily smirked and said, “Nobody puts Baby in a corner.” JJ grinned as she shook off her heels and Emily threw off her blazer, showing off her lean arm muscle. JJ speed walked over to Emily and as the iconic line went off, Emily caught JJ in her hands, like Patrick Swayze in the film. Several seconds later, Emily’s arms gave out and JJ toppled on top of her.

After escaping the dance floor, both the women nursed their injured heads on a leather loveseat. Shoes were off, splayed across the glass table in front of them. JJ huffed in annoyance after what happened on the dance floor. 

“Nobody drops Baby on her head.” Emily crookedly smiled and whispered “sorry”. Both stayed silent as they were becoming inebriated, surrounding themselves with the noise and action. Forty-five minutes passed, and JJ got bored with sitting and moping in pain, rather than having fun on the last day of the year.

“Wanna head up to the roof? We could take a break from the noise.” Emily nodded in agreement. 

They left the crowded atmosphere and climbed up to the top of the building. The chill winter breeze cooled down their flushed cheeks. The stars twinkled brighter against the pitch-black sky. The two women watched the glittering lights of Washington, DC. It was time for the countdown. 

10

JJ ever so slightly turned her head towards Emily.

9

Out of the corner of her eye, Emily noticed that JJ was looking at her and turned her own head towards her date. There was a certain softness to those baby blue eyes. 

8

“I’m glad I get to spend the last seconds of this year with you. You are incredible,” JJ said. Emily blushed a rosy pink, both from the cold and what JJ said. 

7

“I could say the same about you.”

6

“I really do hope we get to see each other more in the new year.”

5

“Why is that?”

4

“Because…. Um.” JJ felt nervous telling Emily the reason. She worried that it would ruin what was happening at the moment.

3

“You know what. Fuck it.”

2

JJ grabbed Emily’s face and roughly placed a kiss on her chapped, pink lips.

1

A roar of cheers and a chorus of yelled “Happy New Year!” filled the air as the clock struck midnight. The whole city celebrated. JJ took a deep breath as she parted from Emily’s lips.

“Happy New Year, Emily.” 

Emily looked at the gleaming girl in front of her and said, “Happy New Year, JJ.”

taglist:  @queer-rambling / @voidreid / @homosexualyearning / @babey-jj / @ssaemxlyprentxss / @pumpkin-goob / @iconicc / @fuckshitupm8-deactivated3728  / @blakes-dictionxry / @gravelyhumerus /  @foreverxgolden / @abbyprentiss / @lizziechase / @purelyprentiss / @heavenlydevil / @haleymalaffey

[rubix-writings]

Punisher Pt. 8

Eighth part of Punisher. This has been sitting in my drafts forever, I’m not in love with it, but want to get the story moving along. This is a Chicago PD/Fire imagine with an original character. I don’t own any of the plot points or characters from the show. Also, it doesn’t follow any particular season or sequence in the shows.

Series Summary: Josephine (Jo) never expected to find support and pure love when she left Los Angeles. She ran away to Chicago and was content with living an insignificant, hidden life. But everything changes when she walks into Molly’s to get a job.

Josephine (OC) x Jay Halstead

The italicized lines are internal thoughts of the character.

Warnings: language, mentions of drinking, mentions of violence

The week after the renewal I hardly saw or spoke to Jay. A case came in the day after and the entire Intelligence Unit rarely left the station. From what Will told me, it was a house invasion and so far only one young child survived, but they’re coming close to catching the people who did it. 

I thank the man handing me brown bags full of take-out. The thin handles dig into my palms as I make my way towards the precinct. I try to hide my face in my warm scarf, as my eyes water from the cold wind flying around the street. I quickly jog up the steps and dodge the people exiting the building. Trudy’s working the front desk per usual. She shoos a man in an expensive suit as I walk up to the front desk.

“Hey Trudy,” I smile and grab her meal out of one of the bags.

“You got something for me,” she asks in her normal pleasant tone. I slide the closed container across the top of the desk. She inspects the meal quickly before closing the lid again. “I’ll buzz you up.” 

I grab the handles, hopefully for the last time, and walk up the stairs to the wire gate closing off the Intelligence Unit. My heeled boots announce my entrance to the team. Kevin and Adam are hunched over a computer, while Haley and Voight are going over the board taped with various pieces of information. 

“I smell Angelino’s!” Adam announces. 

“That’s impressive,” I stand in the middle of the room and gesture with the heavy bags. Adam and Kevin leave their current task behind and take the food away to the kitchen. “Hello to you too,” I say under my breath. 

“Hey, Jo,” Hayley waves. 

“I’m Hank,” Voight reaches forward to shake my hand. This was the first time we officially met since he doesn’t come to the bar. I only know him from stories and photos. 

“Nice to finally meet you.”

“Thanks for bringing this by, there’s only so much vending machine food one can take,” Hayley interjects. 

“Of course, it’s from everyone at Molly’s.” Jay and Kim walk up the steps, they are donning their heavy winter coats and their cheeks are pink from the cold. Jay smiles as we make eye contact, I can’t help but smile back. 

“Hey Jo! What are you doing here?” Kim asks. 

“Angelino’s! You guys have to get in here before it’s gone,” Adam yelled with a mouth full of food. Kim dashed to the kitchen to join the rest of the team. 

“You should get in there, that sounded like a threat,” I say to Jay. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t reached out this week, after everything that happened at the renewal,” Jay practically whispers. His eyes are red and purple circles sit underneath, his lack of sleep is apparent. 

“Hey, there’s no need to apologize about it, that’s not why I’m here. Will found me right away to fill me in. I get it, well I don’t fully get it, but you know,” I match his tone and step towards him, placing a comforting hand on his forearm. 

“Thanks,” Jay looks towards the floor. 

“How’re you doing?” It’s a stupid question, he’s obviously consumed by this. 

“I’ll be better once we finally get the people who did it,” I slide my hand down his arm to find his hand. He grasps it immediately, clinging to any part of the outside world that isn’t tainted by this case. 

“You call me if you ever need a break, even just for a minute okay?” I take a step closer and Jay nods. 

“You want to stay and eat with us? I can get us some plates and sit in the interrogation room,” Jay offers. 

“As intriguing as an interrogation room sounds, I have to get to Molly’s. You’re not the only one pulling a late shift tonight, except I’ll be making the world drunker, not better.”

“Some would say that’s better,” I laugh. 

“Be careful out there detective,” Jay leans forward and kisses my temple.

“You too,” I squeeze his hand before letting go. I walk down the steps to head out of the precinct. 

***

It took a few more days for the case to finally come to a close, but not in a way everyone hoped. The Intelligence Unit found the criminals that killed the family but soon after they were arrested, men in suits came into the precinct and took them away. They claimed that these men were a part of a bigger operation trying to take down a syndicate. So they practically get to walk free in witness protection and not pay for the heinous crimes committed. 

The entire team were angry and rightfully so. A few of them sat quietly at a table against the wall drinking to try and shake the bad case. It’s hard to watch as I know there’s nothing I can do to ease their pain. 

“They’ll be okay,” Stella says. I keep staring at the table and watch Jay bring his whiskey to his lips. 

“How do you know that?” I genuinely ask. 

“Sadly, this isn’t the first case like this and worse, it won’t be their last,” Stella starts pouring tequila into shot glasses. “Alcohol helps.”

“Stella, are you sure that’s the best idea?”

“It’s one shot,” she brushes off and takes the tray over to the table. The Intelligence Unit gladly accepts and down the shots without hesitation. This isn’t going to end well. 

The table orders three more rounds of shots, but most of them stop once they start feeling tipsy and the weight they were carrying around was finally lifted. Jay on the other hand kept ordering whiskeys. I stand behind the bar and watch the once stoic man begin to crumble. He’s not crying or yelling, but his demeanor is different. Kim walks up to the bar while putting on her coat. 

“Hey Jo, can you keep an eye on Jay? He’s taking this one really hard. He had to tell the kid what happened to his family when he woke up in the hospital, stuff like that sticks with you,” she puts her hands on the bar top. 

“Of course, thanks for the heads up,” I look back to the table and see Adam and Kevin getting up, leaving Hayley and Jay at the table. Adam and Kevin wave before heading out the front door with Kim. I’m happy that Jay has Hayley, she gets it way more than I ever could. Normally it’s fun to watch Hayley and Jay interact, it’s like a brother and sister pushing each other’s buttons. There’s no humor between the two right now, Hayley is leaning forward, her brows furrowed trying to get through to Jay about something. I pour a few drink orders before heading over to take the empties away from their table. 

“Jo!” Jay slurs, if he wasn’t drunk out of pain his slurred speech and lazy eyelids would’ve been really cute. 

“Hey guys, can I get you anything? Water, maybe?” I ask while grabbing the empty beer bottles and glasses. 

“I’d like another whiskey, no ice. Hayley?” 

“Jay - “ Jay cuts Hayley off.

“No no no, I’ll order it at the bar. I gotchu Hales,” Jay gets up and walks a diagonal line towards the bar. 

“Is this normal?” I ask Hayley as we both watch Jay. 

“It’s not the first time, but it doesn’t happen often,” Hayley sighs. Hayley rubs her eyes, obviously tired. 

“Hayley, I got him, you go home,” she shakes her head. 

“No I’m fine -”

“You’re tired, I’m almost off shift anyway. I’ll give him a ride home, it’s not a big deal. Go get some rest,” she opens her mouth to fight, but it turns into a yawn proving my point. 

“Call me if anything changes okay?” I nod as she puts on her jacket and heads out of the bar. I gather up the empty bottles and glasses sitting on the table and make my way behind the bar. 

“Jojo, one whiskey neat,” Jay hiccups. I giggle and pour Jay a nice glass of cold water. 

“Whiskey Jojo, I can’t drink straight vodka.”

“It’s water Jay, and I’m not a huge fan of this little nickname you’ve started,” Jay smiles and takes a sip of water. 

“I think it fits you.”

“Keep drinking that water,” I roll my eyes and I start cleaning the used glasses. Jay makes himself comfortable on the stool while sipping his water and causally watches me finishing up my work. Kelly comes in to keep Stella company since she’s closing tonight, but gets sucked into sharing stories with Jay at the end of the bar. 

Stella and I start to seal open bottles and close out tabs. I peel off to grab empties and clean tables while she deals with a few more customers. I constantly look towards Jay and Kelly, worried that Jay will start breaking down or switch moods, but it never happens. Jay continually laughs with Kelly, but his eyes start to droop as his exhaustion starts to beat out the alcohol in his system.  

“Do you mind if I bail early? Make sure he sleeps in his own apartment rather than the floor of Molly’s,” Stella laughs and nods her head.

“Yeah I’m good, drive safe,” I squeeze her arm before grabbing my things from the back. When I start making my way over to Jay, his head is resting in his hand that’s propped up on the bartop. 

“Hey Kelly, you’ll stay with Stella while she closes right?”

“Of course, don’t worry she’ll put me to work,” I thank him and then put my arm on Jay’s bicep. 

“Jay, c’mon let’s get you outta here,” he clumsily tries to stand. 

“If you want to get outta here, Jojo. Lead the way,” he grabs his jacket and starts walking towards the door without me.

“Go get ‘em Jojo,” Stella mocks. I point at her with a look that could kill.

“Don’t,” I quickly chase after Jay so he doesn’t trip down the few stairs leading from the bar. I grab him, not fully trusting his ability to stay upright. “C’mon, this way,” I wrap my arm around his torso and hook his arm around my shoulders. 

“If you wanted to cuddle, all you had to do was ask,” he slurs. I bite my tongue and hope he’s too drunk to see the blush on my cheeks. I rest him against my car as I unlock the passenger door. 

“Wait is this your car?” 

“Yes, one you’ll be getting in,” I open the door and wait for Jay to climb in. 

“Do I need to sign a waiver first?” 

“Get in the car,” Jay laughs at his joke, but finally gets into the passenger seat. 

It didn’t take long to get to Jay’s apartment from the bar, but in that short time he managed to change all my set radio stations to all the Christian pop stations because he thought it was hilarious. But as the night carried on, Jay starts to succumb to his fatigue, he’s sleeping with his head leaning against the window.

“Jay help me out here,” I plead. Jay shakes himself awake and leans into me allowing me to pull him out of the car. I lock the car quickly and grab Jay’s waist making our way into his building. 

“Just a little bit further,” I coax Jay to make the last few steps out of the elevator and into the hallway. Jay struggles to unlock his front door, after a few minutes and refusing my help multiple times Jay opens his apartment. 

“See, I told you I’d get it,” Jay strides through the door making his way to the living room and falls down on the leather sofa. 

“Yeah, you got me,” I say while taking in Jay’s apartment. It’s a lot more put together than I thought it would be, don’t get me wrong there’s a ton of sports memorabilia, but at least it’s all neatly framed. It looks like all the furniture was bought together, rather than gathering old hand me downs. I throw my purse and jacket on the counter, then start the search through the kitchen cabinets to find a glass. 

“Cabinet closest to the fridge,” Jay yells. I furrow my brow as I walk over the said cabinet and sure enough even in his tired, drunken state he’s right. I pour Jay a glass of water and make my way over to the sofa where he’s laying face down into the cushions. I run my hands through his soft hair making him stir to turn to face me. 

“There’s a big glass of water on the coffee table when you need it,” he closes his eyes and smiles.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“How’d you know, your eyes are closed?”

“Your gorgeous face is printed on my eyelids,” and now I’m happy his eyes are closed, I can’t control my blushing cheeks. 

“I got to head home Jay, you sure you’ll be okay?” I rise and take his military boots off since it doesn’t seem like he’ll be moving from the sofa anytime soon. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little mind,” Jay cuddles one of his throw pillows causing a massive smile on my face. 

“Text me tomorrow Jay.”

“Hey Jojo.”

“Yeah Jay?”

“Get ready, I’m gaining the courage to ask you out.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” I grab my stuff and leave Jay’s apartment. 

***

I walk into Molly’s the next day to start my shift. Most of the lovely firefighters of Firehouse 51 are at the bar this afternoon, since they have the day off. 

“JOJO!!” they scream out when they see me. I instantly stop in my tracks and search for Stella, who's hiding behind Kelly. 

“You dug your own grave,” I whisper to her. 

“I’m sorry, it just came out.”

“Yeah I’m sure,” I throw my things into the back office before going behind the bar. 

“So… How was the rest of your night?” Stella asks, I’m grateful that she’s whispering. 

“Nothing happened, Jay passed out on his sofa and I left.”

“I highly doubt that’s it. He didn’t say anything more to you?” 

“Um…” The phone starts to ring. “I got it!”

“This isn’t over,” Stella goes to bring over some orders to tables. 

“Molly’s,” I say as I pick up the landline. 

“Hi baby,” his voice is rough like gravel and low. A voice I hoped to never hear again in my life. “You thought you’d run away and I’d never find you? I am your future, you’ll regret ever leaving -” 

I hang up the phone before he can say anything else. I can hear my blood pounding in my ears and it’s like at any second my legs are about to give out. 

“Jo you okay?” Matt asks, bringing me out of my own mind. 

“Ugh yeah, spam. It was a spam call, I always almost fall for it,” I smile. He’s going to kill me. 

Taglist: @whit85-blog @bestillmystuckyheart @nocturnalherb16 @5sos-imagine​ @miranda0102

[writethelifeyouwant]

Pretty Boy

Pairing: Sam Winchester (SPN) x Spencer Reid (CM)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2.2k

Tags: implied one night stand, college bar, questionable decision making, flashbacks, Stanford!Sam, virgin!Spencer, making out, grinding, back alley blow jobs

Created for: @spnkinkbingo - TedTalk!Sam | @there-must-be-a-lock 3,500 followers / 30th birthday celebration - Sam x Spencer

Summary: When Spencer comes across a viral TedTalk, he's stunned to see he recognises the speaker.

When he gets into the bullpen that morning Spencer goes through his usual routine. His messenger bag and scarf are dropped onto the desk, jacket slung over the back of his chair, and mug filled with coffee that – thankfully – smells fresh. He holds the warm ceramic tight between his hands, letting his fingers re-acclimate themselves to blood circulation after his walk in from the bus station, while his computer flickers to life and his inbox loads.

After years of resisting the advent of modern technology, Garcia had gotten fed up with him and set up his work email address with a few things to tempt him into reading his emails. Every day he comes in to cute pictures of baby animals - courtesy of the chain between Garcia, JJ and Emily - as well as newsletters from medical journals, physics journals, and psychological studies. Spencer opens today’s email from the TED conference series and sips his coffee while he waits for the embedded videos to load. Last week there had been a really interesting keynote on educational psychology, and he hopes there is something equally as stimulating today.

The headline under the video isn’t particularly enthralling, Top Federal Lawyer Shares How To Win - In the courtroom and in life, but Spencer nearly spits out his coffee when the video thumbnail loads and he recognises the speaker.

Sam Winchester. So he’d gotten into law school then. More than that, he was now one of the top Federal Attorneys in the country, according to the bio in the email. God, he’s young to have that job, he’s only two years younger than Spencer. Even Hotch hadn’t made it that far up the legal ladder by 35. He remembers Sam as intelligent, charismatic, intuitive – all skills that would have gotten him far if he shook the right hands along the way, but still – Spencer is quietly impressed.

“Hey, Pretty Boy!” Spencer hears Morgan’s voice distantly but he’s caught up in memories now.

“Pretty Boy!”

Spencer looks up from his drink and turns towards the sound of his nickname, about to tell Morgan to stop calling him that for the millionth time when he hears another voice shout back.

“Dude, can you just stop? I told you not to call me that!”

Spencer and Morgan both look puzzedly at the stranger who’d just told Morgan off. He has bright hazel eyes, and soft looking, light brown hair and – yeah, Spencer can see why someone might call this guy ‘Pretty Boy’.

“Oh, sorry,” Pretty Boy blushes and shakes his fringe in front of his eyes. “I thought you were Brady. I keep telling the idiot to stop calling me that.”

“I keep telling this one the same thing,” Spencer jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Morgan, shocked for a moment that he’d actually spoken. He wasn’t very good at speaking with strangers in bars.

Morgan claps his hand over his chest in mock hurt, expression teasing. “C’mon man, you know I’m only messin’ with you,” Morgan laughs and ruffles Spencer’s hair. “He is pretty though, in’t he?” he whispers conspiratorially at the other Pretty Boy and Spencer shoves Morgan off him.

“You’re lucky I don’t have my gun on me,” he threatens and Morgan holds up his hands in surrender.

“What like you could hit me?” And before Spencer has the chance to retort, Morgan’s dashed off, back to the table where Gideon is sipping a beer and reading through an open case file.

“So, you usually bring a gun on nights out?” Spencer takes a moment to realise the stranger is talking to him again.

“Oh I, uh,” Spencer stutters under the his open, curious gaze. “It’s not, um, I’m an FBI agent,” his voice shoots up at the end making it sound more like a question than a statement. “So it’s not, you know, illegal for me to–”

“Hey, it’s fine,” the stranger laughs and scootches one bar stool closer to Spencer. “I know who you are, actually,” he admits, ducking behind his hair again. “I was in the careers talk earlier.”

“Oh,” Spencer relaxes a little now he doesn’t have to explain himself but then tenses up again remembering how awkward he’d been during the presentation, and not really wanting to relive that experience if this guy was about to make fun of him for it.

“I uh, I’m Sam,” Pretty Boy – Sam – sticks his hand out, and Spencer shakes it, a little perplexed as to why this guy is still talking to him. “I’m uh, guessing I should call you Dr. Reid rather than Pretty Boy, huh?” Sam tries to break the tension with a joke and Spencer realises he’s still holding Sam’s hand, the skin soft and warm under his, and he’s staring pretty intensely at the guy.

“Um, Spencer,” he manages to choke out as he snatches back his hand and tucks his hair behind his ear.

“It’s nice to meet you Spencer,” Sam smiles, genuinely, but with some kind of intensity behind it that Spencer can’t place.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Sam,” Spencer tries the name out on his tongue and decides he likes it.

“I really liked the presentation earlier,” Sam says, taking a sip from the beer bottle he has in front of him.

“Are you thinking about joining the FBI?” Spencer asks, circling his fingers around his own glass to give them something to do, to keep them from creeping back along the bar towards where Sam’s are now resting.

“I don’t know,” Sam shrugs, turning on his stool to face Spencer a little more head on, and giving him a small smile. “I’m pre-law right now, but I thought it would be cool to hear about, I guess.”

“Law is nice,” Spencer nods. “We get a lot of people transferring in from law backgrounds.”

“Did you like the Academy?” Spencer grimaces at Sam’s question before he can help himself. “Oh, maybe not then,” Sam laughs.

“No,” Spencer rushes to explain himself. “I just, when I was there I was still really young, and y’know, people pushed me around a little. I mean, look at me,” Spencer gestures up and down his scrawny body.

“I am looking,” Sam breathes, eyes following Spencer’s hand and dragging across his form. Spencer freezes. Did Sam just… flirt with him? He has no idea what to do with that. He decides to carry on with his previous train of thought instead.

“With a guy like you... you wouldn’t have that problem,” Spencer finishes, feeling himself blush a bit in embarrassment at the lame conclusion. He was not doing a great job at selling the Academy.

“Whaddya mean? A guy like me?” Sam pushes with a knowing grin, that same intensity in his gaze, eyes still roaming over Spencer.

“Well, you, y’know,” Spencer waves his hand in Sam’s direction, hoping that will get his point across, but Sam just sits there smirking at him, waiting. “You’re all tall and, a-and,” his eyes catch on Sam’s shoulders, which are broad, and nicely displayed beneath a t-shirt that’s stretched just a little over the muscles there, “s-strong looking, I guess?” Spencer cringes. God he sounds like an idiot. “I bet you could throw around someone like me, easy,” he shrugs. Sam is still smirking at him, and Spencer takes another drink, trying to cool down the burning in his cheeks.

“You wanna find out?” Sam takes a casual sip of his beer, eyeing Spencer the whole time.

“Find out what?” Spencer’s brows draw together, not following. Sam grins and hops off his barstool, closing in on Spencer’s personal space. Most people might look threatening, doing something like that, but Sam just looks… happy. Carefree, almost – and excited.

“Just how easily I could throw you around,” Sam is still speaking pretty loudly to be heard above the noise of the bar, but he’s pressed himself close up against Spencer’s side and leaned in like he’s whispering in his ear. The feeling of Sam’s breath on his neck is enough to make Spencer shiver, and coupled with the words themselves, Spencer thinks he might just fall off his chair.

Sam pulls back to look Spencer in the eye, and Spencer finally understands what that darkness behind Sam’s irises is – desire, attraction, hunger. Sam’s eyes flick down to where Spencer is licking his lips, a bad nervous habit of his. That desire clouds Sam’s expression even more and he starts to lean down, eyes still fixed on Spencer’s mouth, and a split second before it’s too late, Spencer reaches out and places his hands on Sam’s chest, stopping him short.

“Sorry, I just...” Spencer glances nervously back at Gideon and Morgan who are, thankfully, engrossed in conversation and not paying him any attention. He looks back at Sam and sees the understanding flit across his face.

“Follow me,” Sam checks around them and then reaches up and grabs Spencer’s hand. Spencer makes a small noise of shocked protest but Sam ignores it, leading them around the bar and out a door in the far corner.

They emerge into an ally, dark and shaded from the street lights, and Sam immediately pushes Spencer’s back against the door they just came out of. Spencer stares at him nervously, but doesn’t pull away. This is nothing he’s ever done before. This is what Morgan does, picking people up in bars and slinking off somewhere private to do god knows what. This isn’t Spencer. But Sam’s still looking at him with those bright, beautiful, hungry eyes and Spencer feels something stir in the pit of his stomach that he hasn’t felt for a long time. And as nervous as it makes him, he lets himself admit that he wants this too.

Sam moves closer in, pressing his front against Spencer’s, and he feels solid. Yeah, this guy might be pretty but he could absolutely throw Spencer around if he wanted to. He feels himself shudder against Sam and the fronts of their hips skate against each other, sending a jolt of want to the pit of Spencer’s stomach.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice is low and soft, and it brings Spencer’s attention back to Sam’s face, which is only inches away now. “Is this okay?” Spencer nods, pleadingly, and Sam smiles. Sam’s hand comes up to his face and Spencer leans into it. His eyes slip closed as he relishes the warmth, this is more human contact than he’s had in months. And he doesn’t see it coming because his eyes are shut but then Sam’s lips are on his and wow – they feel amazing.

Spencer’s kissed people before but he’s never been kissed like this. Like he’s being devoured. Like he’s everything Sam could possibly want. And Sam is certainly everything Spencer could want. He pushes his hands up into Sam’s hair and pulls him in tighter. Sam moans against him and wedges their thighs together and Spencer swears that when he tugs on Sam’s hair again he can actually feel the twitch in Sam’s pants in response.

Sam is getting harder by the second and Spencer can feel Sam coaxing the same reaction out of his body. He juts his hips forward experimentally and the answering groan from Sam matches his own. Fuck, that feels good. And Sam feels big. Jesus Christ, Spencer doesn’t know how it’s possible for a guy to feel that big through that many layers of clothing and he can’t stop himself imagining how big he would be if he wasn’t trapped behind those jeans.

Sam grinds their hips together again and ducks his head to nip at Spencer’s neck, sucking a spot into the skin that’s visible above his collar.

“Oh my god,” Spencer whines, and he feels Sam grin against his throat, lips twitching in a smile.

“That feel good?” Sam murmurs against his skin, and when he ruts their cocks against each other again Spencer thinks he might die.

“God, yes,” Spencer pulls Sam’s lips back to his and kisses him hard and messy. Sam’s hands drag down Spencer’s chest and rub over his cock and Spencer’s breath actually chokes off in his throat.

“How far do you want this to go?” Sam asks against his lips, not wanting to break the kiss.

“I– I want…” Spencer knows what he wants but he’s scared to ask for it. He’s never done this before. The making out with a stranger in a dark ally part, or the more than ‘kissing and accidentally coming in your pants’ part. He doesn’t want to do that. What he wants is to drop to his knees and get Sam’s cock in his mouth. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to say it, so he goes for the next best thing.

Spencer drops to his knees with a thud, and looks up at Sam – panting, waiting.

“Fuck yes,” Sam moans and tears into his jeans, fists his cock out of his boxers and – yeah, he’s big. Shit, Spencer gulps, genuinely salivating at the thought of getting that between his lips. “This what you want?” Sam strokes himself in front of Spencer’s face and he can only nod, fascinated, not taking his eyes off the shiny red tip that is just begging to be sucked. “Alright Pretty Boy, let’s see what you got.”

Like my work? Consider supporting me with a blog membership!

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67

All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j

All SPN (No Incest): @delightfullykrispypeach @05supernatural20  

[dearest-kibble]

could you please write something for haikyuu where reader is kidnapped by their crush and (let's just say they have issues as well) so they're just flattered by the attention of the yandere and completely down with it 😥

Ok!! So this strikes me as a very Daichi (he’s very soft) thing to do? That or Oikawa? Also shoot I try to keep these gender neutral, but I think I accidentally made the reader more feminine (dresses are in your closet, calls you princess

Tw: Implied former abuse (From a family), yandere content, stalking. 

Daichi Sawamura

You were warm. A soft fuzzy light filters through white curtains as you sit up on a plush bed. Blankets cover your legs. Those aren’t your blankets, those aren’t your curtains. This isn’t your house. You hear a knock.

“Come in?” It’s a meek, meek sound you make as the door creaks open so delicately. You’ve never really liked when your family came into your room, but this wasn’t your room, and chances are that wasn’t your family knocking. So when the captain of the famed volleyball team walks into the room you’re a little taken aback. It’s not everyday where someone so normally levelheaded and polite keeps you in their house for one reason or another.

“I didn’t mean to, but please stay here? I’ll take good care of you.” He’s leaning against the door unthreateningly. “Oh this is probably - I’ll give you some space okay? Food’ll be ready soon, I’ll bring some to you if you don’t come out of your room.” He seems to realize that he might be intruding as he stares at your blushing face. He closes your door gently and you hear the popping of a stove as it turns on. You start shedding the blankets off of you, swinging your legs over the lavish covers of your new bed. You could live with a gentle captor after the years with your family. Your feet hit the hard wood of the ground and a chill is sent through you. To stop the chill crawling through your body, you wrap one of your large, fluffy blankets around you. Your room is decorated in soft pastel greens and whites and lots of books. Your closet has been filled exclusively with  long floral dresses. Which begs the question, what are you wearing right now? The Volleyball captain seems to have put a mirror in your room, several pictures of you from school are stuffed into the side of the mirror. You sleeping in class, were you two in the same class? You didn’t think so but maybe you were wrong. Shedding the blanket for a quick second reveals that you are in the same clothes you remember putting on before... what exactly happened? Feeling the return of the cold on your body you pick up your blanket and seeing as you need some questions answered, you go to find your chef and photographer.

“So, uhm” You don’t know his name do you? 

“Sawamura Daichi, I should’ve introduced myself earlier, huh?” He chuckles a little as he turns from a pan to look at you.

“Sawamur-” You start.

“Everyone calls me Daichi, you especially, shouldn’t be an exception.” He turns back to preparing some pan fried dish. 

“Daichi? I Guess I should’ve known that, everyone talks about the volleyball captain!” You smile at him, he’s being sweet and anyone would appreciate that. “So, my mind seems to be blanking on what happened before i came here, would you mind telling me?” Well that was presumptuous to assume that he actually knows. Maybe you passed out and he was kind enough to pick you up off the side of the road. 

“I took you from your house. I’m not very keen on putting you back though, so please try to get used to living with me.” He’s spun on a dime at your words and offers a sympathetic smile.

“You took me from my house?” You feel like crying as you speed over to him by the stove. “Thank you Daichi,” He seems a little taken startled at your willingness to hug him but wraps his strong arms around your waist anyways. “Thank you so much.” Your pretty sure the wetness on his clothes is because you’re crying,

“Of course, I knew you’d be happier with me than stuck there,” He smiles as he leans his face down into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. It’s the first time you’ve been kissed.

“You look really cute y’know?” His palms are on your shoulders, pushing you gently away from his chest. “Wrapped up in that blanket, it’s so big on you.” He’s blushing as he looks at you.

“Oh uhm, thank you,” Though your cheeks are still wet, they’ll evaporate at this rate. “What’re we having to eat?” 

“Fried eggs, if that’s alright. I’m afraid I mainly eat protein.”

“Oh that’s fine! It’ll be nice to eat with someone!” 

“Do you wanna eat in the kitchen or your room?” He’s asking if you want to eat somewhere and you’re pretty sure it’s more than anyone in your family’s asked before.

“My room, if that’s alright? It’s very comfortable.”

“I’m glad you like, I designed it for you!” Daichi smiles a lot, it’s the most anyone had smiled at you and you can get used to it. He hands you a white plate with a fried egg, perfectly brown and with the now free palm, guides you to the door you had left open. “Have you looked at your closet yet?” You nod as he sets a large towel that you hadn’t seen him take on the bed. “One second, I need to get my plate. Don’t start without me!” He dashes out of the still open door and returns equally as quickly with his plate, also with one egg. You sit one the towel he’d laid out.

“You ready yet?” He sets down his plate and is about to sit next to you on the bed before doing a quick double take. 

“Shi- I forgot utensils, sorry to make you wait.” The way he physically restrains himself in front of you is cute and you can’t help but let out a small giggle.

“No no, you’ve already done so much today, tell me where to find the utensils and I’l-”

“I couldn’t very well make my guest,” He trails off for a second with some uncharacteristic muttering. “Lift a finger! Let me get the forks.”

“Thank you Daichi, you don’t have to do all of this for me, but I really appreciate it.” His eyes go a little soft at your words. Before he seems to realize that he should be getting forks and once again, exits the room calling back,

“Be right back!” And true to his word less than thirty second later, he is sitting on the bed, two forks in hand. 

“Thank you again! You shouldn’t be the only one doing work though, let me do something for you!” You cut a piece of egg, and place it into your mouth. It’s much better than you thought it would’ve been.

“Well you’ve seen the closet, right?” You affirm this fact with a quick nod. “There’s this one dress I’d love for you to try on if you wouldn’t mind.” Its a more sheepish smile this time, like he’s a little embarrassed.

“You’re embarrassed!” You can’t contain your fit of giggles this time. This volleyball captain is so much more than the typical jock. 

“Wh- what?” He sputters with a dusting of color on his cheeks. “I’m no-”

“It’s cute!” You say through a mouthful of egg as you wiggle your fork at him. He ceases to know how to respond at calling him cute. You suppose it wouldn’t be to bad to help him out a little. HIs reactions truly are, quite cute. “What’s the dress?” 

“O-Oh, it’s uhh,” He buries his face in his hands. “It’s with with blue flowers embroidered on it, it’s my favorite dress.” He’s almost mumbling and he hasn’t eaten any of his egg.

“Well,” You raise a morsel to your lips. “If you’ll eat and get out, I’ll change for you.” His cheeks burn at the words ‘for you’ escape your mouth. 

“O-okay, you don-” He stops speaking before he can finish his sentence, instead noticing the egg on his plate. The fork he had’t touched since it was put on the towel finds its way into his hands and he scarf up the egg in three bites, 

“Ok,” You swing off the cushy bed for a second time today and walk to your closet. Sifting through the clothing you find a simple white dress, at the bottom of the skirt, purple-blue blue bells grow from the hem. Holding the dress out, you turn towards Daichi. “Is this it?” His eyes are wide as he nods quickly before evacuating your room. As soon as your door clicks shut, you are slipping out of your cloths and into he blue bell dress.

“Okay! You can come in, you may have to zip it up a little though!!” You call a little louder than normal and you’re half convinced that Daichi was just waiting with his hand on the doorknob for you to be finished as he tumbles into the room holding a camera. 

“You look, uhh - may I take a picture? You look adorable.” 

“Thank you! And sure, you can take a picture, but please, zip the rest of the dress up, i can’t reach it.”

“Of course!” His legs stride nimbly over to you at the mirror and you are reminded of the pictures he has stored on the edges. 

“You have a favorite picture of me?” 

“It’s the one where you’re sitting in your room, trying on a dress.” The sound of a zipper is white noise in the background as you scan the edges of the mirror for when you were trying on a dress. You find it quickly, it’s in the top right corner. You were probably awake in the middle of the night, when everything was quiet so you could be left alone. 

“So, should I ask about why you have all these pictures of me? Do I have a stalker?” Really you don’t mind, the teasing in your voice got it across quiet well you hoped. 

“No sweetheart, I’m just-” His voice stops and if you look at the mirror close enough, you can see his posture has become more ridged.

“Sweetheart?” That came out of left field, but it wasn’t unpleasent.

“Can I call you that?”

“I’ve just. Never been called that before, it’s sweet.” He’s finished zipping your dress and you can see it’s been made to fit your exact measurements. 

Daichi breaths a sigh of relief. “Oh,” He moves out of the reflection in the mirror, throws the towel you two had used to eat on and picks up the camera he had set on a bedside table. “Could you sit on the bed for me?” 

“Sure!”  

“Now, tilt your head a little and smile for me Princess. Just like that, exactly.” The clicks of a camera are loud in the pastel room that is now yours. 

“Did the-”

“We’re not done yet, i’m going to rearrange your position okay?”

“Okay Daichi!” He’s so kind to let you know what he’s going to do. So gentle as he tilts your head to look towards the ceiling. 

“Give me a sec, stay right there sweetheart.” His voice is so happy and affirming and you can’t help but smile at it. He comes back about five minutes later. “Hold these please!” He hands you what feels like a bouquet. It fits snugly into your two hands and you take a flower out, bringing it to your nose. A rose. “Hold there, sweetheart.” You’re sure you hear a whisper of, “You look so good sweetheart, just like that.” Your lips can’t help but smile as the thorns poke into your finger. Blood drips down the rose like a raindrop on a windshield. Daichi breaths a “Perfect” before you hear the snap. “Thank you Princess, you look so beautiful like that, lets say we get that finger bandaged?”

“Of course!” You’ve never felt more happy in your life.  “I love you Daichi, you’re so kind.” He doesn’t blush this time, instead he puts down the camera and picks you up.

“I love you too Sweetheart. You’re such a good girl.” You giggle, he’s so cute and sweet.

“Thank you Daichi, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

--

So fun fact! I was gonna add an Oikawa but then Daichi demanded that i make his segment longer because I love him. Fun fact two, Oikawa is gonna get his own post! Third fun fact? I hate the pet name sweetheart. Anyway, I’m so sorry requester that it took me so long to get this out to you, I hope you see it and enjoy what i’ve done with it!

[fukurodaze]

if i ever get lost

pairing/s: third year!haiba lev x gn!reader genre: fluff, romantic tension aka best and softest tension word count: 3.2k warnings: like, one curse word this was also requested by anon! “3rd year Lev w a reader who’s struggling to pass all their homeworks, projects and quizzes (bc they piled up their works ;;) while thinking of how should they study for college/uni entrance exams?”

special thanks to nat @natszoo​ and ellie @lcnelyinthesky​ for beta reading and helping me w this!! 

LISTEN TO: somebody loves you - jeremy zucker; glitter - benee

lowercase intended!

you throw your head back when you forget the term written on the flip side of the flash card haiba lev is holding. it’s a friday night, far past anyone’s bedtimes, but final exams for the first semester start on monday and you’re not sure where to start. haiba lev, being the person who has nothing better to do, agreed to come over and flip cards with random kanji, english, and biology terms on it.

lev might also be here because it’s an open secret that he’s liked you since first year, and you’ve never answered to his feelings, but you’re thinking friends for now - until you memorise all of this semester’s kanji, english vocabulary, and biology terms, that is.

“the phospholipid bilayer is made up of...”

lev gives you time to think, his wide eyes going between the answer on the card and your thinking face.

“shit, uh, the phospholipid bilayer is made up of two layers of phospholipids?”

“makes sense, but no.” lev answers, flipping the card to show you.

“the phospholipid bilayer is made up of a polar, hydrophilic area containing a phosphate group bound to glycerol, and a non-polar, lipophilic area containing fatty acids...” you read aloud, trying to memorise what’s currently going out your mouth, in one ear, and out again through another ear.

“you know, your flash cards are pretty comprehensive.”

you raise an eyebrow, “is that... a good thing?”

“i mean, yes and no,” he takes another sip of the tea your mom had insisted to bring to guests, “it’s harder to memorise, but it’s better for details. but-”

“but?” you watch as he takes another sip. 

“i think if you really don’t know where to go, just understand the basic concept of everything. for one - what is the function of the bilayer?”

“why do you sound smart?” you question, tilting your head jokingly.

“hey! i am smart! most times! with tests like these that have essay questions, you just gotta learn the basic concept of each term and connect them.” lev advices, recounting his former volleyball captain and nekoma high school alumni, kuroo tetsuro’s, words when lev himself was barely scraping past his first semester finals when he’d just transferred.

“easier said than done in two nights,” you slouch your head on your desk, “plus! it’s not just biology. or exams.”

if memorising all these terms in the span of two days sounds bad enough, you’re still crushed with the supplementary course work and projects due next week as well. 

you let out a deep groan. you’re so tired. it’s like biology information only comes up when you’re studying for english, biology only coming up for modern literature, and mathematics somehow being inserted into the little unknown kanji in modern literature. it’s all too much at once.

“it’s all too much at once, huh?” lev places his head on your desk, only a few inches away from your face. normally, you’d push him away, pull your head back up, or maybe even give him a light slap on a bad day, but today you welcome him. 

you nod, quiet. you haven’t been able to get a breather. it’s essay this, quiz that, lab report here, test there. your mind is blank.

now, lev sits back up on the extra chair from your dining room, “have you eaten dinner?”

“why are you asking... it’s like, midnight.”

“the question still stands.”

you sigh, “nope.”

lev hums. he takes a pen, then twirls it, like his fingers possessed polar magnets that somehow let the pens never fall from his hands. but it does eventually, and when it falls with a plastic click on your wooden desk, lev visibly takes a big breath and says, “do you want to get ramen?”

you exhale through your nose and smile. “are you asking me out, haiba?”

“is it inappropriate to ask you out now?”

damn this tall dork. come to think of it, he’s never actually asked you out despite the obvious ways he’d vouch for your attention in the past. you’re quite surprised, frankly, as he’s always been so loud in the ways he’s wanted to be with you but never really made it seem like anything was going to happen. 

but, hey, it’s late enough for you to put down your doubts about him away. after all, he’s been in your room for four hours, just helping you study. he wasn’t even studying himself - he just sat there, doing almost nothing. and for a guy like him, you wonder how he’s managed to keep there for so long.

“sure.”

lev’s eyes widen. “wait, really?”

“yeah,” you begin to set aside all your study materials, “we can go to a twenty-four hour place in the city, too.”

“alright! let me get you your coat!”

“my coat?” you raise an eyebrow when he hands you the coat you wear the most, feeling both flattered and slightly surprised that he recognises it straight away from your messy room. the boy comes to retreat his coat as well from one of the hangers in your room, and he even offers to get you your socks and boots.

“alright, alright, you don’t have to be that ready to go,” you joke. 

he makes sure there is no noise when you two walk out of your house, through the suburbs of tokyo and to the nearest train to the city. 

“aren’t you two a bit young to be here so late?” the shopkeeper, an old lady, mutters under her breath. you catch it through her croaky voice when you and lev enter the place together, but you pay no attention because all you care to focus on is the smell of broth and your empty stomach.

“for two, please,” lev says, undoubtedly hearing the woman’s remark, but answering with a smile. she smiles too, and so do you, and it makes you remember all the times he’s smiled and you’ve wanted to either punch him or hold his hand. 

today just happens to be one of those days where you want to hold his hand. you shake the thought off.

when you two are seated at the ramen bar, your head falls onto your palm, tilting back to face lev, his chin covered partly by his usual maroon scarf. you had whispered to him earlier on the train what you wanted to order, and lev quickly speaks to the waiter as your tired gaze rises from from the squiggly wooden patterns embedded in the polished wooden table to the boy that’s sitting right next to you. 

at first glance, you remember haiba lev’s face to be satisfying to look at. you remember when he had just transferred to your class in the first year, and you developed the annoying habit of looking forty-five degrees to the right every time you were bored in class, as you thought his face was much easier on the eyes than complex quadratic equations or japanese history. 

for a while you wondered if it was because he certainly looked different - not only was he practically a giant, but he had eurocentric features that stood out from the majority of the student body as well (it also didn’t help that he quite literally and figuratively filled any room he was in). though, maybe, after a while, when everyone got used to the sight of a new face, you kept your line of sight at a forty-five degree angle, just peering above his cheekbones. the same way you’re looking at him right now.

and really, the only word for it is handsome. dashing. good-looking. you’ve always known that, but now that you put it into words in your head, you notice the chiseled jaw, pointed nose and emerald green eyes feel a bit more-

“what you staring at?” his baritone voice cuts through your thoughts cleanly.

you don’t like where this conversation will go. “haiba, are you doing any college entrance exams?”

lev cocks his head to one side, thinking, before nodding, “i think i am. why?”

“how are you studying for them?”

lev clicks his tongue, and it brings you to surprise, “get your mind away from studying! we’re not here in the city at, like, one in the morning to talk about college entrance exams!”

you sigh, “okay, fine. but, still, answer my question?”

“i just do practice problems for twenty minutes every day,” lev shrugs, “okay, now, can we move away from studying?”

you hum lazily, watching as two bowls of ramen arrive at the bar. he had ordered what you told him you wanted to order, both bowls almost identical in smell, shape, size, and content. almost, because lev didn’t have any spring onions in his bowl.

“haiba,” you call, earning a quick call of your name in response, “do you not like spring onions?”

lev nods so obviously that he seems proud. his chopsticks mix the entire bowl together before picking up the half-boiled egg and eating the slice whole. when he swallows it down, he asks you, “you noticed.”

“i mean, yeah,” you reply, “why do you not like them? they’re like, essential.”

lev takes a slurp of his noodles, and then a spoonful of the broth, “i just never liked their texture - which is funny, since my entire family loves adding spring onions.”

now it’s your turn to slurp into your ramen, one bite turning into two, and two turning into the entire content of the bowl. lev seems to eat twice as fast, seemingly having a strategy to cooling down the hot noodles on his spoon while simultaneously folding a piece of pork charsiu in between the loops of each spoonful of noodles, making sure that the little wrap is bathed in a little bit of broth. you find yourself smiling at his act, almost like he has a system of his own when it came to eating ramen - well, he usually had a system of his own when doing just about anything.

the meal is quiet for the most part, with little mumbles of how your tea needs a refill and the ruffling sounds between sheets of tissue to wipe off the broth around your lips. it’s fulfilling, and the look on lev’s face says he’s happy too.

when you two make it out of the ramen bar, 1am feels the same as 9pm. somehow, you’re no longer the kind of sleepy you were when you were flipping through flashcards on your desk, and instead, you’re almost dreading to go home. you think it might also be the neon lights, but there’s some kind of electricity you’re not yet willing to let rest for the night.

luckily, lev doesn’t feel the need to rush. although his steps are big and his voice is loud, he takes his time when you two make the silent agreement to make the walk to the train station as long-winded as possible. his voice is lower, and softer, this time, and when he speaks to you about his friends from his old school, you convince yourself it’s the most interesting topic in the world - because it is. because it’s lev.

when he stops in his tracks, you stop too, watching him go into a small trinket shop you’ve always seen but never had the means to afford to go in. you reckon you might own something from this store, though.

“haiba, you like little trinkets?” your eyes scroll through the shelves of delicate and virtually useless items, eyes landing on a small lion cub made of clear resin with a small blob of gold floating in the middle of its clear body. you’re not usually drawn to any animal trinkets, as you’ve gotten used to decorative objects like bows or feathers or lace, but today you think about the lion cub. despite it looking severely overpriced, you take it in your hand anyway, not noticing lev’s figure coming right behind you.

“do you want that one?” you yelp in surprise when he says that, turning around to find yourself so close to him you could smell the dried raindrops on his padded coat.

“i’m pretty sure it’s overpriced. trinkets are usually overpriced anyways.”

“wait, let me check it,” you hand lev the trinket, “how much is your keychain?”

you furrow your eyebrows, “what?”

“you know, the keychain on the bag you bring to school.”

“oh,” you try to remember the time you had saved up for that keychain, “i think it was about three thousand yen? it’s overpriced. definitely.”

“well, this one’s only two thousand and five hundred. i’ll get it for you.”

“wha- lev!” you whine, “you’re going to make me feel bad- wait what’s wrong?” you see the boy freeze up in front of you, a big smile creeping onto his cheeky face.

he doesn’t reply for a bit, and you’re faced with raised cheekbones and a wide mouth. you try again, “was it something i did? or said?”

“you called me lev,” oh, you did. 

now his smile spreads from ear to ear, and it’s spreading to you. “you never call me lev.”

“huh, well.” you bite the inside of your mouth, “i guess now i do.”

it’s enough for you to let him spend over two thousand yen on a single trinket. you watch as he waits for the trinket to be wrapped neatly in pretty paper and put in a pink cardboard bag, its motif pretty enough to be its own product in the store. 

you stand by the doorframe of the store, mouth ready to open with the words ‘i’ll pay you back’. but it seems like lev had heard you from the future, and before you could do anything, he tells you, “don’t pay me back. this is my gift to you.”

“for exams?”

he grins. “you know, lev means lion in russian.”

the bell of the store rings as you two make your way out, this time really going back to the station. you answer with a ‘really?’ at his fun fact but you keep it to yourself that you’ve known ever since he first transferred and everyone had asked him about it. 

“yeah, and the thing’s a lion cub, so, it’s like you have me all the time!” 

you giggle, walking up the steps to the train platform. “you’re really something, lev.”

lev stretches his arms out, with long limbs you swear ghost your shoulder. you get that feeling again, in your hands, where you just can’t seem to understand why you want to take his hand in yours so bad, so you ask the boy if you can hold onto the bag with your trinket. lev passes it to you, and you hate how you would’ve liked for your thumb to graze over his thumb for longer. you hate it even more when he motions you onto the train, and in a blur, you take his arm, leading him to corner seats on the train. you feel your face heat up. 

ah, so that’s how it is.

now you’re conflicted. not that lev had ever made you feel uncomfortable - no, never - but you had never known how to return his obvious feelings. he would act on them, as always, and one day, as you fell asleep one day after final semester exams in the second year, leaning back into the plastic seat of a suburban tokyo metro rail (which lev thought was very dangerous), lev had muttered in the quietest and most subtle manner, ‘what do i do with my feelings?’

then, in a haze, with eyes barely open, you had moved your head from your seat to his shoulder, painting his cheeks red - dumbstruck. he thought you forgot about it the next morning, and you barely remember, so nothing happened afterwards. yet, when you think of him, you think of hues of orange peeling the sky into purple; of freshly washed school uniforms; of heads leaning on shoulders and fingers intertwined. you don’t know how to answer him.

with lev, there is chatter and laughter and blunt remarks that almost get him slapped in the face. still, there is a box, bigger than the bag your trinket is in, that contains words that you don’t think you or lev have ever said in pure daylight and wake. 

“hey, lev?”

you want to open that box.

“yeah?”

but you don’t know how to do it yet.

“the phospholipid bilayer is made up of a polar, hydrophilic area containing a phosphate group bound to glycerol, and a non-polar, lipophilic area containing fatty acids.”

lev exclaims a series of ‘oooh!’s in delight. 

“was that correct?”

“um,” lev gulps, “i think so? i mean- i think so.”

but you will open it, sooner or later, and it rings in your head when you step off the train and walk into the neighbourhood. right now, nothing is different - the air is not heavier, his eyes do not sparkle like love interests do in the movies, and you do not look through a rose-coloured lens. monday is finals, and the weekend is studying. you tell yourself this.

lev stops at your doorstep, and you almost feel a sear in your chest at the thought of him leaving for the night. 

“so, good luck with next week, y/n.”

you nod, trinket bag in your hands, “you too, lev.”

you find that your arms are opening up, a small pout on your face as lev comes to wrap his arms around you, coats shuffling against each other as you hold each other at three in the morning. 

when you pull away from the hug, you start to ramble a bit, scrambling for new topics to bring up in hopes of just a few more seconds with him - that, and trying to stop yourself from your newfound want to cup this boy’s face in your hands and kiss him square on the lips. you wonder if he would be good at kissing, and you wonder how much you’ll regret having these thoughts tomorrow. 

but even conversation dies when you know it’s getting too cold, so you bid your sweet goodbyes and promise him not to overwork; he reminds you that it’s better to do short but frequent study sessions than fewer and highly intensive ones. you nod, your boots heavy on your doorstep, the hushed sound of keys in doors slowly becoming the only sound you hear as you assume lev’s left already.

until he calls your name.

your head spins fast towards the boy, watching as he makes long strides to stand at your doorway once again, scarf prodding the tip of his nose, so close to your face. he’s red.

“during exams, or tomorrow, or studying for entrance exams- if you ever get lost-” he pants, and unties his scarf from his neck.

“you’ll find me, okay?” the scarf comfortably hangs around your neck now, covering your mouth. he pats your head twice. it’s warm - literally. 

you barely get the chance to say anything before he darts out of your house with a quick goodbye. you’re left confused, flustered, and excited at once, and this time, you think you might have the words as to why. 

you like to imagine you taste sweetness, see eyes that sparkle, and feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“it might not be so bad,” you whisper, looking down at the pretty little bag containing one unnecessarily expensive item lev had bought you.

right; you have feelings for him too. 

then you make up your mind: you’ll tell him next friday. and if your finals stand between tonight and next friday, then, all the more motivation to get through them, right?

you make sure to set an alarm for seven in the morning, kanji textbooks lined up for tomorrow. 

[ultimatetrashyfanfic]

I’m just gonna say Non-despair AU cause I want everyone to be happy. I freaking LOVE Gundham so much, he’s wonderful and I’ve been wanting to write him for a while (but stalling cause of his DIALOGUE. It’s so hard). Buuuut I decided to finally give it a shot. And to kind of vent a little cause he used to stress me out in his dark coat and scarf in tropical heat. With Kazuichi because I want them to be friends, and because I seem physically incapable of not putting Kazuichi in every fic. COULD be seen as pre-soudam if you prefer, I didn’t write it like that but it could be if that floats your boat. I do like that ship, I just like other ones with Gundham and kazuichi more. Anyway, hope you enjoy - Circle

Also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33543364

Warning: descriptions of overheating, sickfic. Nothing really bad here.

Kazuichi wasn’t shocked to wake up sprawled across a towel with sand in his hair and a dry mouth, completely alone on the beach. This wasn’t even the first time it had happened. When his insomnia was really bad he’d always doze throughout the next day - for some reason he couldn’t sleep in his warm, comfortable bed at night but could drop off in seconds with his head on the breakfast table or against Hajime’s shoulder. His classmates never bothered to wake Kazuichi if he was somewhere he wouldn’t be in the way, so the beach was a frequent napping spot. They always made sure to leave him in the shade with a water bottle for when he woke, so Kazuichi didn’t mind. It was normal.

What was very much not normal was waking up to Gundham grasping the front of his t-shirt, shaking him violently and yelling some weird gibberish that Kazuichi was still too woolly-headed to understand.

“Wha..?” he muttered, trying to wake up properly. For a second he wondered if he was having a weird lucid dream, because Gundham never usually touched people, especially him - though he was shaking him by the shirt instead of the shoulders.

“You’re gonna stretch out my clothes,” Kazuichi whined, sitting up and scrubbing his eyes.

“As if your tattered garments are a priority right now! Answer me with honesty, lest the demons tear your tongue from your very mouth. Have you encountered the wrath of my Crimson Steel Elephant?” Gundham cried, far too loudly.

“What?” Kazuichi mumbled. “Gundham, I can’t decipher your witchy language when I’ve just woken up.”

“Foolish mortal! This is a dire emergency!”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“I shall repeat myself just once more, so listen well. Have you encountered one of my Dark Devas of Destruction? Maga-Z appears to be missing,” Gundham said. Despite the grandeur and fancy words, Kazuichi could see he did look pretty distressed, holding the three remaining hamsters in his hand as if he was scared they’d dash away too.

“Oooh, okay. You’ve lost a hamster. That’s all you had to say, Gundham. One single sentence and I would’ve understood,” Kazuichi said.

“Do not talk so disparagingly! My Devas are far more powerful than mere hamsters. And Maga-Z has an independent spirit and often attempts to cause chaos alone. I have my concerns for the safety of everyone on this island if Maga-Z wields his destructive power without my guidance.”

Gundham was completely serious, but Kazuichi had to bite his cheeks to stop himself laughing, picturing a hamster storming across the island in a tank, decimating everything. But Gundham was clearly frantic, and Kazuichi was trying to be nicer to him recently, so he sighed.

“Okay, I’ll help you look for him. We should try to get the others to help too.”

“Indeed. You were the first mortal I came across,” Gundham admitted.

“Right, what does Maga-Z look like?” Kazuichi asked, taking a long drink of water. He felt like he’d be running around in the hot sun for a while now and wanted to drink while he had the chance.

“Your memory is abysmal.” Gundham seemed irritated that Kazuichi didn’t know the hamsters by sight.

“Look, I’m not exactly on nodding terms with your ham- Devas, am I? How am I supposed to know which is which? I only recognise the chubby one.” Kazuichi pointed to Cham-P.

Gundham reeled back like he’d been slapped, spluttering in outrage. “How dare you mock his corporeal form! If Cham-P was not so patient, he would obliterate you where you stand for such cheek.”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to body shame your hamster,” Kazuichi said irritably. “I wasn’t mocking. He’s just bigger than the other ones.”

“He is of the Golden variety, of course he is larger in stature. It has nothing to do with his nutritional intake.”

“Are we going to search or not?” Kazuichi snapped. God, talking to Gundham for more than five minutes was exhausting. “Do you know if Maga-Z has favourite places to go or something?”

Kazuichi let Gundham lead and did his very best not to talk to his strange companion as they searched through bushes and inside cupboards, asking any of his classmates they encountered to look too. Gundham muttered to the remaining hamsters, but didn’t try to talk to Kazuichi much either except to order him around - though his grandiose tone was quickly becoming softer and more anxious.

“Maga-Z has never disappeared from my influence for so long,” he mumbled, pulling his scarf to cover his mouth. “I cannot contain this feeling of dread.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Kazuichi said, surprising himself. “We’ll find him. He’ll be okay.”

Gundham blinked, then stood up straighter. “I assure you, I fear for the inhabitants of the island. Maga-Z will come to no harm.”

But he was worrying, and even Kazuichi could see it. His searching was becoming frantic, his usually careful hands clumsy, so he knocked things off their shelves and forgot to tidy up or close doors behind them. He started running between buildings and bushes, long coat billowing, calling out for his lost hamster.

“Gundham! Hang on a second,” Kazuichi gasped. “I can’t breathe!”

Surprisingly, Gundham did as he was told, leaning against a palm tree in the shade. He wrapped his arms around his chest, pale fists gripping his dark coat. His carefully styled hair was starting to droop in the heat, and his face was very pink. Kazuichi had never seen so much colour in his cheeks before. The three remaining hamsters cowered inside Gundham’s scarf, sensing his anxiety.

Kazuichi went to lean beside him, wiping the sweat off his own forehead. He didn’t know how Gundham managed in his black clothes every day.

“We’ll find him,” Kazuichi said again. “Ibuki and Twogami and Mahiru said they’d look. And Miss Sonia looked like she was going to cry when I told her Maga-Z was missing. She said she wouldn’t rest until he was found.”

“She has a good heart,” Gundham said softly.

“Yeah…” Kazuichi paused. “Hey, you didn’t say anything nice like that about me. I’m the one who’s been running around with you in the baking sun for hours.”

Gundham didn’t respond. He’d been talking a lot less in the past twenty minutes or so, though he’d originally been giving incomprehensible orders to Kazuichi every two minutes. Souda assumed he was just growing more concerned for Maga-Z the longer he was missing - so he was caught off guard when Gundham slumped over and fell limply against him, almost bringing them both to the floor.

“Dude!” Kazuichi managed to catch hold of Gundham. “What are you doing?”

Perhaps Gundham didn’t know what he was doing either, because he had a look of sheer bafflement on his face. He tried to pull himself upright, clinging to the rough bark of the palm tree, but each time he wobbled dangerously and Kazuichi had to grab onto him again.

“What is this..? I appear to be reacting negatively to your mortal world’s atmosphere.” His usually forceful speech came out laboured and slow, and Gundham placed a hand to his lips in surprise.

“What? You’ve been surviving in this atmosphere for ages already,” Kazuichi argued. “What’s up with you? You sound drunk. Can you tell me in plain English?”

“The temperature in this godforsaken land exceeds even the fiery bowels of hell,” Gundham hissed, having to cling to Kazuichi to stay upright.

Kazuichi took a second to disentangle Gundham’s web of fancy words. “Sooo… you’re too hot. I guess that makes sense. Who wears a black coat and a scarf in this heat? And I know you haven’t had any water since we started searching. I’d better take you back to your cabin,” he sighed.

“Unhand me this instant, you fiend!” Gundham growled, though he was the one using Kazuichi like a walking stick. “I could never rest while one of my Dark Devas of Destruction is unguided.”

“Well they’ll all be unguided if you get heatstroke and drop dead,” Kazuichi said. “Half the island is searching for Maga-Z - and I’ll go back out to keep looking as soon as I can, okay?” As much as Gundham might get on Kazuichi’s nerves sometimes, he didn’t want him to get really sick or hurt. He hoped Maga-Z had enough sense not to wander into the sea or something; Gundham would be crushed.

“Hmm.” Gundham didn’t look convinced.

“Your other three ham- I mean Devas probably need to cool down a bit too,” Kazuichi tried.

Another pause. “Very well,” Gundham sighed. “I shall retire to my artificially cooled domain until the effects of this oppressive atmosphere wear off. I trust you to ensure the search continues.” He turned on his heel and tried to walk on his own, staggering alarmingly.

“Hey, careful!” Kazuichi ran to steady him. “I told you I’d help you.”

Gundham slapped his hands away. “Fool! Have you forgotten I am cursed with poison?”

“Oh for God’s sake! Could you just give an inch for once! Why do you make everything so difficult?” Kazuichi cried exasperatedly.

Gundham stuck his chin in the air and started berating Souda again - but before he’d even finished the first sentence his words died away. He blinked several times, looking dazed, swaying where he stood.

“Gundham..?” Kazuichi said nervously.

Gundham didn’t respond. He took another few staggering steps towards his cabin, then crumpled as his knees gave way under him. Kazuichi cried out and hurried to catch him, their foreheads bashing together painfully. Gundham’s skin was clammy and damp, his face looking much more… alive than usual. Kazuichi realised it was because his pale makeup was running.

“Fucking hell, Gundham,” Kazuichi groaned, hauling one of Gundham’s arms around his shoulders. “Just hold onto me, okay? Try not to pass out.”

Surprisingly, Gundham nodded, staring down at his feet like it was taking a huge effort to make them move. It was clear he was trying to be helpful, but Kazuichi had to carry a lot of his weight and they were both breathless by the time they reached Gundham’s cabin. Kazuichi breathed a sigh of relief as the wall of cool air conditioning washed over them.

“Thank God for that,” he mumbled, dumping Gundham onto the bed. It was carefully made, which Kazuichi had never understood; why bother making your bed when you were just going to mess it up every night? The entire room was neat, though the giant cage meant it rather smelled like hamsters. “Right, get your coat and scarf off.”

Gundham glared at him viciously.

“Oh, that’s the thanks I get, is it? Well, no matter how annoying you might be, you’re overheated. No wonder, wearing that stupid dark coat. So get it off.” Kazuichi grabbed Gundham’s arms and yanked the coat sleeves off like he was undressing a sulky toddler. Gundham hissed a series of furious curses at him - one of which sounded like Latin, which was actually pretty impressive - and the three remaining hamsters hopped out onto the bed, startled.

“There. Was that so hard?” Kazuichi said silkily when Gundham was lying on the bed in his shirt and scarf, glaring. Kazuichi tried to take the scarf off too, but Gundham’s hissed threats became more vehement and he gave up. “Fine, keep it on then. Though I don’t think the gothic look is very sustainable in a tropical climate, man. Right, I’m going to get you something to drink.”

Gundham didn’t respond until Kazuichi had returned with a cup full of water from the bathroom. “I shall take advice from one with such abysmal fashion sense as yourself with a grain of salt, fiend,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster while tomato-red and damp with sweat on his bed.

Kazuichi had to fight very hard not to pour the glass of water directly over Gundham’s head, but he just about managed to help him drink it instead. Then he grabbed the little fan from the bathroom and placed it by Gundham’s bed, dampened a cloth and slapped it rather unceremoniously on his forehead. Gundham yelped and glared again, water trickling down his temples. Good. Serves him right for that earlier comment. “There. Keep your head back or you’ll smudge your eyeliner. And don’t move. I’ll try to find Mikan while I’m looking for Maga-Z, okay?”

Gundham turned his face away, cupping one hand over the Devas protectively. He mumbled something into the material of his scarf.

“What?” Kazuichi asked.

“I said I am grateful for your assistance…”

“Oh.” Kazuichi was surprised. He’d never heard Gundham acknowledge he needed any help before - though maybe that was Kazuichi’s own fault. He’d been the one to start up the whole stupid rivalry thing (which wasn’t ever a rivalry in the first place since the girl wasn’t remotely interested). Maybe this was a step towards a reconciliation.

“I mean, I wasn’t gonna leave you to die,” Kazuichi added awkwardly.

“You are far more tolerable when you do not echo the Dark Queen like a parrot. I once believed you had no real mind of your own,” Gundham said bluntly.

Kazuichi flushed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You made yourself an extension of the Dark Queen. You never disputed her or challenged her. You agreed with her every word.”

“Well… I wanted her to like me,” Kazuichi mumbled. “Look, you don’t need to lecture me about all this. You know I’ve left Sonia alone.”

“Indeed. But you still wish to befriend her?” Gundham asked. Even weak and overheated as he was, his eyes were burning into Kazuichi’s with such a fierce intensity he had to look away.

“That’s her choice. Why are you asking all this?”

“If you still seek a friendly companionship with the Dark Queen, you should not forget she is a mere powerless mortal,” Gundham said. “She does not wish to be treated like she is extraordinary. She does not wish to be around those who only agree to please her.”

Kazuichi stared at him. Was Gundham really offering advice? Was this a weird way to repay him for helping out? It was pretty embarrassing to be given advice on how to make friends from Gundham, who openly distrusted everyone - but he was friends with Sonia. Maybe even something more, Kazuichi honestly didn’t know. He’d tried to stay away from Sonia as much as possibly, partly because he wanted her to be more comfortable and partly because he was pretty fucking embarrassed by his past behaviour. But he would like to be her friend. Nothing else - he knew that wouldn’t ever happen - but friends was good.

“Now make haste!” Gundham suddenly cried, making Kazuichi jump. “Continue the search! I shall rejoin you as soon as I am able.”

“No, rest. Don’t move and especially don’t put your coat on again. I’ll find Maga-Z,” Kazuichi said quickly. He dashed outside before Gundham could protest, groaning as the sticky heat wrapped around him once more.

He started searching again, after taking a quick detour to Mikan’s cabin to ask if she could go check on Gundham and make sure he hadn’t gone out into the sun again. Almost everyone on the island was searching now, splitting off into little groups to cover more ground. Nagito was one of the last to join in - and Hajime and Kazuichi watched in astonishment as he shifted the very first box he touched in the storage room of the old building and pointed. “There he is.”

“WHY didn’t I ask him first?!” Kazuichi practically screamed.

“Ultimate Luck seems a pretty useful talent,” Hajime murmured to him, not wanting Nagito to hear. It’d only start him off on a long self-deprecating rant. “Go on then, Kazuichi. Get him.”

Kazuichi peered behind the box on his hands and knees. Maga-Z was cowering in the corner, fur dishevelled and standing on end. He didn’t look too friendly. “Why do I have to grab the stupid hamster?” Kazuichi whined. “You grab him, Hajime. I don’t like them. They look like they know too much.”

“What are you on about?” Hajime sighed. “It’s just a hamster. You can’t be scared of a hamster, Kazuichi.”

“They’re Gundham’s hamsters. They probably like… worship the devil or something.”

“Hamsters don’t worship anything. They’re just hamsters.”

“Can I go now?” Nagito asked, looking like he was losing braincells just listening to this conversation.

“Yeah, thanks, Nagito. Unless you fancy grabbing this hamster,” Kazuichi said. He looked hopeful, but Nagito left without another word.

“I’ll do it,” Hajime said, exasperated. He reached behind the box to ease his hand underneath Maga-Z, but as soon as his fingers brushed fur, the hamster made a mad dash forward. Directly towards Souda. He squealed and hastily cupped both hands around Maga-Z, holding him at arm’s length. “Oh my God, oh my God, I got him… Oh God, he’s gonna bite me, I know he is,” Kazuichi whined.

“Hey, good job,” Hajime said, surprised. “I didn’t think you’d catch him.”

“I’m not a baby, Hajime,” Kazuichi huffed. Then he whimpered in a very childish way. “Ugh, he’s wriggling around. Can I… put him somewhere? A bag or something? I don’t trust him.”

“Just shove him in your pocket and let’s go. It’s boiling in here. And Gundham will be stressing about Maga-Z. Do you know where he is?”

“I had to put him to bed because he nearly fainted. He was running around in his black coat all day.”

Hajime rolled his eyes. “Nobody on this island has any self-preservation skills.”

“At least Maga-Z is okay.” Kazuichi studied the little ball of fluff cupped in his hands. Somehow his little ink drop eyes did look menacing. “Hey, he really does look like he wanted to go off and cause chaos on his own, doesn’t he?”

Hajime gave Kazuichi a look. “I think you’ve spent too much time with Gundham today.”

Thankfully, Gundham was still in his room and looking a lot better, though still very visibly agitated. His colour had returned to ghostly pale (he must’ve reapplied his makeup) and his eyes were far more focused - they snapped to the door right away when Hajime opened it. When he saw Kazuichi, his hands still full of wriggling hamster, his brow cleared.

“Take him, quick!” Kazuichi said, hurrying over to the bed. “I’m sure he wants to bite me.”

“You fiend,” Gundham murmured, taking the hamster. For a second Kazuichi was offended, thinking Gundham was calling him names when he and Hajime had been nice enough to bring the hamster back, but then he realised Gundham was talking to Maga-Z. He spoke to them in exactly the same way he spoke to his classmates, no silly mushy voices like most people did with cute animals.

“I can only pray you have not caused too much destruction while unsupervised,” he murmured, smoothing Maga-Z’s fur. The hamster sat up to greet him like a little puppy, and Kazuichi noticed for the first time that Maga-Z’s cheeks were bulging.

“Did he really run off just to steal food?” Kazuichi groaned. “We’ve been so stressed and he was just eating!”

“Ah yes, a feast befitting the magnificent Crimson Steel Elephant,” Gundham said, gently placing Maga-Z with the other hamsters. They circled him joyfully, happy to be reunited too.

Kazuichi threw his hands up exasperatedly. “I give up. You’re all nuts.”

Gundham turned to Kazuichi, his face solemn. “I am deeply indebted to you, as is everybody who resides on this island. I cannot speak of the terrors that may have occurred if Maga-Z was without guidance. I shall spread the story of your triumph to every other mortal here so they can show you due gratitude,” he said.

“Oh… Thanks, man.” Kazuichi could see he meant well, but the thought of Gundham telling everyone Kazuichi saved the island from a hamster’s destruction was pretty embarrassing. He could already see Hajime smirking out of the corner of his eye.

“You should stay inside a bit longer though,” Hajime said. “Just in case. You need to make sure you’re totally cooled down.”

“Indeed. I have had ample excitement for one day,” Gundham said.

“Me too,” Kazuichi mumbled.

“If you’re feeling better, you can tell everyone about Kazuichi saving the island over dinner,” Hajime said, grinning. Kazuichi glared at him.

“Asshole,” he muttered as soon as they were outside Gundham’s cabin.

Hajime burst out laughing. “Maybe he’ll make you sound really gallant and fearless when he tells it.”

“Then everyone will know it’s a lie right away. And anyway, Nagito saw what happened. Even if you don’t give away the real story, he’ll definitely tell.”

“Probably. But you did save his hamster, even if you weren’t that fearless about it. Is there a truce between you two now?”

“I suppose so. He’s not so bad. Crazy and dramatic and difficult… but okay,” Kazuichi admitted. He paused. “I don’t know what half of the words he uses mean though.”

“Yeah,” Hajime agreed. “I don’t either.”