#but can we talk about when that doesn't line up?

[rcmclachlan]

fanclub dues (bucktommy, tommy & maddie friendship)

Buck's just pulling into the parking lot when the realization that he left his recertification paperwork on Tommy's kitchen counter hits him like another lightning strike, and he drops his head to the steering wheel with a whine. His cert expires today and absolutely has to be postmarked by noon or else Bobby's going to decapitate him, or worse: be really disappointed in him.

His first instinct is to call Tommy, because Tommy's starting a lovely stretch of 72 hours off, and if Buck called him he would absolutely drive the packet over.

Except Tommy's spent the last week reminding Buck to mail the stupid thing before the postmark deadline. If he calls and asks, Tommy won't say I told you so, but he will pause for a second like he's thinking about it before he tells Buck it's no problem. Which is in the exact same pantheon as Bobby's disappointment.

So, he does the next best thing.

"Actually, that works out, because I'm going to be in that area anyway," Maddie says. He can hear the rush of wind and traffic over the line. She must already be driving. "You know how we got on the waitlist for that kindergarten I was telling you about? Looks like a spot is going to open up next year and they asked me to come in for a tour."

Buck frowns. "You're already talking about kindergarten?"

"Jee's four, Buck," Maddie says long-sufferingly. "Kindergarten starts next year."

"That's insane, and also illegal. Tell that girl to stop growing or else she's getting arrested. I know a cop who would absolutely do it, no questions asked."

Maddie laughs, which makes him grin at his reflection in the rearview like an idiot. It always feels like he's won something when he manages to make her at least crack a smile, even when they were kids.

He thanks her profusely, texts her Tommy's address, and then rides that wave of joy right into the station, which continues to carry him through the first couple of hours of his shift.

Around 10:00, his phone chimes with a message. Just pulled up! Front of the house looks great! :-) :-) :-)

Buck smiles down at his phone. He helped plant the flower beds last weekend, and even though he's still finding bits of mulch in weird places because Tommy had pressed him back into the dirt and kissed him filthy in broad daylight in full view of his street, until their smiles got in the way, he can't argue with the end result. They do look good.

This little handoff probably will only take five minutes. Tommy still feels a little awkward around Maddie for reasons Buck cannot fathom for the life of him. Maddie is the kindest, coolest person on the planet, and she's so happy that Buck is happy and Buck is happy because of Tommy, so there shouldn't be any sort of weird vibe. But this is the first time Tommy's ever been in a relationship that made it to the stage where he gets to meet the family and he's so terrified of leaving a bad impression that it's translated into him acting like a robot whenever she's around.

It's maybe a little mean of him to send Maddie to Tommy's literal doorstep. He can just picture the deer-in-headlights look on Tommy's face when he opens the door, but Buck figures exposure therapy can only help. The more Tommy sees Maddie, the more he'll hopefully relax. Small moves.

Maddie will probably send a text in another few minutes about her ETA, but then the bells go off and Buck doesn't give it another thought until a few hours later when they're climbing into the truck to head back to the station.

Unearthing his phone, Buck is expecting a Looks like you're out on a call. I left your stuff on Bobby's desk. See you later!

He's not expecting a video.

Blinking, he checks the timestamp of the message—not twenty minutes ago—and feels the first nibbles of worry in his gut.

What if something happened at the station? What if Gerrard made an unexpected appearance, hoping to, like, challenge Bobby to fisticuffs to get his job back but found Maddie there instead? What if he says something to her, or tries to burn the building down while she's still inside? Maybe she took a video as proof before the ceiling caved in—

He nearly drops the phone trying to press play, and Chim slides in next to him just in time to see Maddie fill his screen.

But instead of evidence of their bitter ex-captain committing arson, it's a selfie video of her in a pair of sunglasses and a cap dancing and singing along to a song Buck doesn't recognize. He does recognize the kitchen behind her, though, because he'd eaten breakfast in it just this morning. There are two bottles of wine on the counter, one empty.

And after a moment, Buck realizes the sunglasses are Tommy's aviators and the pilot cap is the same one Buck accidentally stumbled upon in one of the upstairs closets and made Tommy wear a few nights ago.

But before he can process any of that, Tommy cha-chas his way into the background holding a plate of what looks like sandwiches. He's singing along too. Maddie turns around to look and starts laughing hysterically, the entire screen shaking like they're in the middle of a 9.1 earthquake, when Tommy starts hip thrusting.

Buck's jaw drops. "He said those dorky-ass dance moves were for my eyes only!"

"Wow, I never realized there was a patron saint of FOMO, but here I am sitting next to him. What an honor," Chim says with a laugh, but something in the video must click because his grin is suddenly swallowed by sheer outrage. "Wait, are they having a George Michael dance party without me? Maddie knows how much I love George!"

"What's your definition of dirty, baby, what do you consider pornography!" Maddie and Tommy shout gleefully at the camera.

Chim gasps. "Oh, divorce!"

"What was that about FOMO, Chim?" Hen asks sweetly, but she's grinning so wide at the video—even from her upside down vantage point—that the dig doesn't stick the landing.

Buck looks over at Eddie, who is watching the video serenely, like he's not shocked to see his cool friend full-on shimmying his chest while shoving a grilled cheese into his face.

"Are you not surprised by this at all?" Buck demands.

Eddie shrugs. "If you ever came to karaoke like we keep asking you to, you wouldn't be either. I don't know what you want me to say, Buck. Your man's a dweeb."

He's so annoyed that this is something Eddie's seen so many times before that it doesn't even warrant a reaction that Buck almost forgets to be upset about Maddie and the aforementioned dweeb day drinking and bonding without him. He's oh so glad to see Tommy got over his fear of impressing Maddie enough that he thinks he's allowed to do the fucking running man while in the same room with her.

"C-c-c-c-c-come on!" Tommy howls. Off screen, Maddie cackles and whoops like she's at a rodeo show.

Buck turns to Chimney and says grimly, "After this? You totally get me in the divorce."

Chim makes a face. "Can I contest that?"

"No," Buck says, swiping out of the video before he throws his phone into the street. Almost immediately it chimes with a new text. In a new group chat.

Faxed ur stuff bc ur bf still has a FAX MACHINE and CONNECTIONS at the dir!

Yes and arent uoy glad???1? EVan youre all set baby

BABY lmao gross Going to Jees school now tell u how it goes

When Bobby hauls himself into the front seat, he looks back at them and pauses. Buck doesn't know what his face is doing, but by the dubious expression on Bobby's face, it's nothing good.

"Everything... okay?"

Buck shrugs. "Other than my niece being destined for a career of slinging burgers at In n' Out because my drunk sister and boyfriend are about to get her blackballed from the Los Angeles public school system? We're copasetic, Cap."

'Copasetic,' Eddie mouths, then starts snickering. Buck kicks his foot.

"Hey." Chim smacks him in the chest. "Don't diss fast food workers, they're the backbone of our society. You're just mad you're not cheating Jee out of an education with said sister and boyfriend."

"Aren't you?"

"Well, yeah, but I'm well-actualized enough to simply rise above the betrayal," Chimney says easily.

Hen rolls her eyes. "He's not. Between the two of you, we're going to be hearing about this for the next four years."

"Sorry, Maddie and Tommy are doing what?" Bobby asks slowly.

The corners of Chim's mouth twitch downward. "Dancing to I Want Your Sex. Without me, might I add."

Buck's head turns so fast he hears something pop in his neck. "It's called what?"

"Oh god," Hen mutters. Eddie looks like he's ready to start dozing off.

Buck's gearing up for a really good rant when his phone goes off again, and when he opens the message, it's a selfie of Maddie and Tommy pressed together in someone's backseat—hopefully an Uber's—and grinning so hard it almost looks a little painful.

Jealousy starts to rear its head like a snake, but before it has a chance to strike he clocks the name of the group chat.

The Official Evan Buckley Fan Club.

Be safe out htere! We love you!

"I'm just saying," Chim gripes to a visibly unsympathetic Hen, "Maddie wasn't even a George Michael fan until I made her listen to Hard Day!"

Buck turns to Eddie and kicks his foot again. "Want to join The Evan Buckley Fan Club?"

"Dude, I've been treasurer for like seven years," Eddie says without opening his eyes. "And I cast the deciding vote when Tommy ran for president at the end of last year."

Once upon a time a there lived boy in Hershey, Pennsylvania who never dared to conceive the idea that multiple people might someday love him enough to start a fan club over it.

"You over it yet?" Eddie asks.

Something warm and sweet wells inside him and he ducks his head around a pleased laugh. "Yeah, for now."

He does make a mental note to have a serious talk with Tommy about the proprietary nature of those hip thrusts, though.

[yamysunmoon]

Princess's reward

Summary: You've been Jenna's lover for a few months now. You meet in hotel rooms whenever you can. Jenna is promoting her latest projects in Venice when you decide to pay her a visit.

Words count: 5-6k

Warnings: MDNI +18, d/s dynamic, sub! Jenna, stone top Y/N, choking, clothed sex, dirty talk, crying during sex (a little tear), praise kink, kinda bratty.

n/a: Verbal consent. First one shot in tumblr and english is not my first language :) hope you enjoy!

You were scrolling distractedly through social media when a notification popped on your screen. Jenna had posted photos.

More than Jenna herself, her team, you thought. Even so, you clicked immediately with a slight tension of anticipation growing in the lower part of your belly.

You watched each photograph closely. Jenna posing on that red carpet in that red dress. Her lips, also bright red, the wavy lines that traced her hair, her bangs forming a beautiful arc over her forehead. Her smooth and delicate skin, her mouth displaying that perfect and relaxed smile, those adorable dimples. You kept zooming in on each photograph when a new notification arrived. She had posted another update.

A smile was now forming on your lips. Jenna drinking coffee with those sunglasses and that t-shirt and that pose and those jeans. You remembered those photos perfectly. She had sent them to you the day before.

You sighed, looking out the airplane window. Glacing at your vintage silver wristwatch you noticed there were only 20 minutes left to reach Venice. Unable to resist the temptation, you opened your messaging app.

Hey my dear, barely 20 minutes to get to the airport.

Saw the instagram pictures btw. That dress suits you perfectly, you look beautiful.

She should still be at the interview she had told you about hours earlier, you guessed. She had sent you her full schedule as soon as she got to Venice, days ago. You loved it when she gave you all the information you needed to know where she was, and when, without even have to ask for it. Her complience made you go nuts sometimes.

You could imagine how tired she must already be, with it barely being 10 in the morning. She had been going back and forth for days promoting her new projects, attending interviews and public events of various kinds. You recalled in your mind her voice over the phone the night before, the way her raspy voice spoke to you, whispering how much she missed you and how little she could bear it. You had been waiting for this moment for weeks.

You were surprised when a vibration on your cell phone snapped you out of your thoughts.

Jenna: hey my love. Charlize will pick you up as we agreed. I think I'll be able to make it to the hotel on time. I can't wait to see you.

A sly smile graced your face. The first few times you two started texting, you were insecure about Jenna's style of writing. No emoticons, dry expressions and full stops. You soon learned a lot of things about her tho.

When she's at work and finds a few minutes to be able to text you -she makes that time to text you-, she doesn't even realize she sounds so "serious".

But then, when the nighttime comes and after taking a long bath, with her bathrobe still covering her body, she calls you, asks you animatedly how your day has been and reminds you how much she wants you, all doubts dissipate.

You decided not to reply to that message to heighten the anticipation. However, even though you were able to control yourself in action, your mind could not do the same and began to recall your previous encounters. The first time you met in that private area of one of the most exclusive clubs in L. A., when Charlize, her most trusted bodyguard, picked you up a few streets over and took you to her. How she waited for you with her legs crossed and those black stilettos, and one of her irresistible black suits.

Memories of that first night began to play out in your head without any censorship. Her sideways smiles as she teased you, the way her cheeks took on a light pale pink with the hints you murmured near her ear so she could hear you over the music. The way her nails grazed your arm for the first time, to, hours later, scratch you all over.

Her eyes, oh, her coffee brown eyes. Steaming, hot brown coffee. Chocolate eyes melting, dripping all over your body, ogling every nook and cranny and every detail they could absorb. She was looking at you in a way that you had never been looked at before.

"I'm starting to want you more than I can handle" she had whispered to you, after a couple of cocktails and too many leers. She had moved dangerously close to your ear to utter those words, then pulled away just enough to look deep into your eyes, raising her eyebrows slightly, looking down at you. A gaze that suggested some desperation and a lot of willingness to be blown away.

You then realized she was handing the power over to you. She was letting you decide if you were ready to commit to this madness with her. Things had changed since that night, but back then she was proposing that night. That's all you had: one night.

You plopped down on the headrest of your comfortable seat in the VIP area of the plane in the same way you had settled that night, months ago, on the pillows of her bed. The sensation of her warm body on yours invaded all your senses. Her legs around your torso, her hands on the back of your neck. Your hands caressing her tummy, then going from her upper back to her shoulder blades. One hand going up to her nape, pushing her to your lips. The other groping the elastic of her suit pants, asking for permission. You remembered perfectly her whisper, barely a strand of voice leaving her red, maroon lips.

"You can do whatever you want to me".

You smiled mischievously and opened your eyes, shaking your head. It wasn't really "whatever you wanted," but rather what the two of you had agreed upon in endless conversations before you started seeing eachother.

Meeting people backstage in the celebrity world had never suited you as well as when you got to meet her. A few minutes backstage at a random event, which led to following each other on Instagram, which led to getting her number, which led to intimate messages late at night.

Conversations about power, control, and seduction. You told her about submission. She started by joking about it, saying that she could never let anyone have that kind of dominance over her. She went on to say that maybe you could. She ended by asking you to accept hers.

You continued to learn about the d/s dynamic together, and agreed on initial boundaries and desires. Promises of what you could do to her, and be for her. Of the way you could put her mind and body at ease. Of the way you could set her free. And that night, in that LA hotel, you put them into practice. And boy, did you both like it.

Now you looked out the window and noticed that the hard concrete of the landing zone was getting closer and closer. You couldn't suppress a shiver that ran through your whole body, you didn't know if it was caused by the imminent landing or the imminent encounter with your precious submissive. Deep down you knew.

You walked through the front door of the hotel without any problem. The few people who should know you could pass knew that. Everything was handled as subtly as possible, protecting the privacy of the person they worked for, following her orders.

You were presented with stairs covered with a beautifully red carpeted floor. You climbed them on your way to the elevators that could be seen at the back of the entrance. One of them opened and Winona Ryder stepped out. You crossed paths but only dared to give her a brief smile, without looking directly at her. Had Jenna told her about you? You weren't used to running into celebrities from time to time. Charlize stood next to you.

“Surprised, huh?”

“She's a legend,” you said in a whisper of restrained excitement. She chuckled under her breath. She walked you to the open elevator and pressed buttons 4 and 5.

“You get off at 5. Room 513. She arrived about 15 minutes ago” she reported looking at her wristwatch. You nodded. There wasn't much more to say.

You could have engaged her in friendly conversation, but you could only watch the elevator screen indicating how you were getting on. Silently. This always happened to you; you were in that moment before you saw her in which your thoughts, actions and behavior were all directed towards her.

The doors opened on the fourth floor and Charlize said goodbye to you with a brief bow, you nodded in farewell. The doors closed and you felt yourself ascending a few more feet. Ascending towards your personal Heaven.

You stepped out of the elevator at a steady pace. You felt the weight of your whole body on your black military boots, you felt the skin rubbing against each garment you were wearing. You readjusted your watch, the one she had given you, and repositioned the necklace you were wearing, also a gift from her. Maybe she was your submissive, but you were her property.

“513” the plaque read. You gulped and touched up your hair, which you wore loose. One more shaky breath before you knocked softly on the door. Two sure knocks, as always.

“Come in” you heard from inside. Oh, that voice. You turned the doorknob without any hesitation.

You found yourself in a spacious room. The floor was covered with the same red carpet that protected the entire floor of the hotel. To your right, large windows lit up the room, but someone had already covered them with thick, translucent white curtains. In front was the king sized bed with an ornate wooden headboard. The room was chaste and classically decorated, in the most typical Viennese style.

It didn't take you long to notice that just before the bed someone had placed a low table that probably wasn't meant to be there. On it various plates with fresh fruit, freshly baked croissants and macarons in various pastel shades.

From your left you heard the sound of water running. You approached. To the right was a dressing room, and to the left was the door leading to the bathroom. A half-open door separated you from your girl.

“Babe, can i come in?”

“No!” she reacted instantly. “Give me a few minutes” the sound water running ceased. ”Go eat something, I got it for you.”

“Okay milady” you replied teasingly, earning a short sardonic laugh from her. She would always need to be fully prepared before seeing you, everytime to met. You found it really cute, yet kinda incomprehensible.

You would remind her that you had already seen her without all of that, without being THE Jenna Ortega, but simply Jenna, she would just smile shyly and confess that she wanted to be perfect for you. “At least before you ruin me completely” she used to add.

You went back to the master bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. You smiled as you realized that Jenna had wanted to place the table as close to the bed as possible. You both knew brunch wouldn't last long.

You had caught quite a few planes for her lately, and she always greeted you with a big feast of her own preparation. You decided to grab a fresh strawberry from the fruit platter, feeling its juices expand in your mouth. You wanted to have the perfect taste when Jenna came out of that bathroom.

Strolling your gaze around the suite, you noticed a scarlet red suit folded on a chair, along with underwear and black platform heels resting next to it. You didn't have time to discover much more before you heard the door open. A broad smile appeared on your lips as soon as you saw her.

She was wearing a black and red plaid corset and matching skirt. Her hair fell straight and shiny over her shoulders, and a deep red lipstick highlighted her lips. She looked at you with those dark eyes, adorned with a subtle touch of eyeliner and mascara.

“Sorry babe, you know i don't usually keep you waiting”. Finally, her voice came directly to your ears, without having to go miles from cell phone to cell phone.

Your eyes sparkled. "This time I'll give it to you," you conceded, assuming that slightly permissive role she liked so much on occasions like that. Your rules were strict but you both got a kick out of cheating from time to time.

You remained motionless as he approached you. Only a small twinkle in her eyes gave her away. She came closer until she was standing in front of you and your hands were resting on the bed. You looked down at her. She looked back at you and smiled showing those beautiful teeth.

An almost imperceptible nod from her gave you permission to wrap your arms around her waist in a needy embrace. You rested your head on her abdomen and it wasn't long before you noticed her hands stroking your silky hair.

“Ugh... how I've missed you” you confessed against the fabric. Your choked voice rumbling against her gut. She breathed in deeply in a way you interpreted as relief. You heard the air rush into her body.

“You're finally here” she sounded calm, peaceful. At ease.

You lifted your head and rested your chin on her belly. With your hands you caressed her lower back. She looked down at you from above and smiled. “You look incredible” you spoke softly, as if you wanted to prevent anyone from overhearing you.

Everyone, literally the whole universe knows that Jenna Ortega is gorgeous and looks amazing, but no one was lucky enough to contemplate her as you were at that moment.

“That's why I like to get ready before seeing you,” she said insightfully. You smiled slightly and your hands descended to her ass, which you squeezed gently. She gasped and closed her eyes. Involuntarily she moved her hips towards you. You rested your forehead on her skirt and breathed in her scent. That expensive and elegant perfume mixed with her own scent emanating from her skin....

“Let's eat something” she proposed pulling away from you abruptly and sitting down next to you. You blinked several times and looked at her. She was smiling flirtatiously. She loved to keep you waiting.

She decided on one of the freshly made croissants and that's when she saw the bitten strawberry on the table. She rose her gaze back at you. “Are they yummy?” she then noticed your lips, reddened by the juice of the fruit.

“Try it yourself” you challenged her. She raised her eyebrows. She seemed to hesitate for a few seconds during which she alternated looking into your eyes and at your lips. She half-opened her own, surely imagining your taste in those moments. Finally, she took a bite of her croissant and chewed slowly. Then she offered you a piece. “Try this and I'll try the strawberries” she resolved. Captivated by her charm, you laughed at her joke and agreed.

You switched the sour taste of the red fruit and the enveloping sweetness of the croissants with a relaxed conversation. She asked how your flight went and wanted to know more about everything that had happened to you in the previous days. Every evening you talked on the phone but she was usually too tired to pick up specifics. Then you asked her about the interview, which had been with Winona and you also talked a bit about her.

You loved the way her eyes sparkled in admiration of her partner. She kept yapping about her co-workers and the movies they both liked, smiling sideways when she remembered funny anecdotes on set, frowned adorably when reminiscing about confusing and amusing moments and she giggled softly when you blurted out wry and witty remarks.

You were drawn towards her. Everything she did seemed appealing to you. Every move, every gaze, every smile. The way she gestured with her hands, how she crossed and uncrossed her legs, how she tilted her head, and how she scrunched her nose. The freckles that dotted her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose called to you, it was urgent to kiss them. She kept talking but your attention had reached its limit.

Suddenly she stopped and looked at you. A teasing smile decorated her appetizing lips. “What are you doing so close?” she inquired curiously, looking you up and down. You then realized how close you have got without even thinking it through. It was quite literally that you were drawn towards her. Like the Earth is drawn towards the Sun.

You let out an airy laugh. “I didn't even realized” you confessed amused, running your gaze over her torso. That damn corset was distracting you. She smiled sideways, revealing a lovely dimple. God, Jenna and her dimples.

You watched every detail of her face closely before finally looking into her eyes. You were getting closer and closer. Yet she wasn't moving an inch. There was nothing she liked more than to tease you until you took the initiative. There was nothing she liked more than to show herself completely ready for you. Waiting for you.

After a few torturous seconds that felt like forever, Jenna looked at your lips. She licked her lower lip lightly, and the warm pink of her tongue contrasted with the maroon of her lips. Her gaze returned to yours, locked together.

And finally, a slight, very slight nod subtly ruffled the strands of her bangs. You gasped. You had permission. You couldn't wait any longer.

You ended the distance between the both of you and drew her closer by resting your hand on the back of her neck and pulling her in a demanding gesture until your lips met at last. You made a superhuman effort to stifle a moan of satisfaction. She, however, did not hold back and let it out, free, from between her teeth, as her lips parted allowing your tongue to conquer her mouth.

You engaged in a wet, perfectly pulsating kiss. Your kiss swayed between a sweet, rhythmic softness and an anxious, slightly desperate depth. Jenna pulled her body closer to yours and placed her hands on your abdomen, pulling your shirt towards her. She needed you, she needed you badly, but you wouldn't touch her until she begged.

You kept kissing her, wanting to express the latter with your lips, and she was quick to get the message. You could feel the trembling in her hands gripping your shirt, and your bodies were so close that you could feel her thighs coming together and parting just enough, in an urgent gesture.

Your breaths were quickening, so you slowed down the kiss. Your tongues caressed each other and she relaxed her whole body, welcoming you into her mouth, letting you take control. Your hand was still on the back of her neck, guiding her and turning her head slightly at your whim. She kept tugging at your shirt, tugging at you. She wanted you all over her.

Her breathing kept quickening even though your gestures were slow. You kept each other at bay. She would decide the starting gun, but nothing else would happen unless you dictated it. You were kissing her lips carefully when she parted only a few millimeters.

The look she gave you seemed even sad. “Y/N. Please. I beg of you. I want you so much i'm about to cry.”

Her eyebrows rose through the thickest area in an almost pathetic gesture of desperation. Her eyes were watery, dulling her already smoldering brown gaze. The brown of her iris was actually darker at that moment, like a beautiful pyrope stone.

You were lost in her gaze as she alternated looking at you in one eye and the other, in silent questioning. Her lower lip trembled with frustration. You almost felt sorry for her, how much she wanted you.

“Can I take you, then?” you asked at last, controlling the tremor in your voice admirably. You were dying for her too, but you had to show temperance for both your sakes. You were the one who held you both as you fell into the void. You had to be. She had to be able to fall into you. And there was nothing you longed for more.

She nodded fervently. You raised an eyebrow and lowered your head slightly in a serious gesture. “Are you capable of handling me?” you inquired insistently. Her hands, which had remained loyally attached to your shirt, ascended to your shoulders. You glanced sideways at them before looking at her again.

“I am ready to have you” she assured in a sentencing tone.

You looked into each other's eyes and found it. That look in her iris. That way in which, paradoxical as it seemed, she was able to demand that you possess her. Her way of offering you her submission, in the most dominant way.

It was as if time stopped for a few seconds before you pounced on her like a predator on its prey. Your hands traveled to her waist lifting her up and carrying her to the bed as your tongues met again.

You held her firmly and carefully, but dropped her onto the mattress allowing her body to crash against it. Her eyes widened in a gesture somewhere between surprise and excitement. In the process of the fall she was forced to release her grip on your shoulders, and now her hands held her on her palms. You watched her as you kneeled on the bed. She placed her legs on the sides of your body, tilted her head and raised an eyebrow delightfully. She smiled showing her teeth a little.

There was something so romantic about her submission to you. The way she surrendered not just her body but her whole being to you. The way her eyes looked at you, through you, not just with lust but with complete trust.

You would do anything for her.

You crawled up to her and kissed her again, slowly. She lifted her hips toward your body. You put a hand on her waist and pushed her back on the mattress, firmly. She stifled a moan into your mouth. She finally agreed to lie down and you directed both hands to the belt of her skirt. She put a hand on your chest, you stopped instantly in anticipation of some boundary. Instead, she parted just enough to look at you. “Maybe that's not necessary” she suggested in a seductive smile.

You scrutinized explanation in her gaze with a frown, confused. She lowered her gaze to her skirt in response. Could it be...?

With your hands you descended to her thighs, which you squeezed, and went upwards. She raised her knees, bent her legs, and spread them. You looked at her as your hands slipped under her skirt. You stifled a deep sigh as you found her luscious wetness already bathing her labia majora and even a bit of her groin. No panties. You pulled one hand out to grab her neck in a passionate kiss, while the other yielded to her charms and began to give her exactly what she needed.

“Baby, how wet you are...” you praised between kisses. You kept holding her neck in a solid gesture and she placed her hand over yours. You squeezed lightly, fulfilling her silent wish. The cold metal of your watch contrasted with her warm skin.

“All because of you. Its-for y-you. My beloved” she admitted worshipping you with that hard, wet look. Your massage on her cunt deepened.

“Do you respect me so much? Are you so obedient?"

She nodded and pressed your hand. You squeezed a little tighter, testing her limits. You weren't kissing her now, she needed to breathe. You both knew that if you kissed her the air could barely cross her throat, and yet she raised her head, longing for your lips on her.

You kept looking at her, waiting for something more. Your hand was still working under her skirt and her hips followed your rhythm with gusto. Was there anything she wouldn't do for you?

“I want...” you began, and your thumb ran along her cheekbone, her smooth skin. She watched your lips listening to every word you uttered. “I want you to touch yourself. I want to see how much you want me in you. You have to earn it.”

Her lips opened slightly, letting in air. She was breathing through her mouth, and as you loosened your grip thinking maybe it was too much, her hand squeezed yours again.

“I can do it” she assured referring to both your command and your grip. She then released your hand and began to roam her own body with it, descending to under her skirt. Her gaze descended with it and you could appreciate the length of her thick eyelashes. She began to stroke her clit while you focused on massaging her entrance in circles. “I can do this and much more, as long as I have you...” she breathed ‘in me" she looked up into your eyes.

You finally broke the distance that separated the both of you so you could kiss her face. She closed her eyes tightly trying to manage your caresses, your kisses and your strong grip on her neck. She closed them so tightly that a furtive tear escaped from her tear duct. You kissed her, her salty desire made liquid reaching your lips.

“Precious princess...” you whispered, and kissed her chin. She lifted it a little so you could continue touching it with your lips, and in those she slightly moved her whole body as well. She unintentionally brushed a knee against your crotch. You jumped with a start and opened your eyes instantly.

“S-sorry, didn't mean to-”

“It's okay. You may touch me” your voice was hoarse and your eyes had probably darkened, the way she was looking at you. Her free hand ascended to the nape of your neck and caressed under your jaw. You nodded to underline your conviction, so she moved her leg again without taking her eyes off you. You adjusted yourself against her knee until the friction was perfect. You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

Jenna knew she couldn't stimulate your cunt directly. You had always been very clear about this, and she had always respected it. On occasions like that, however, even a girl like you would welcome a touch like that, over your clothes.

You needed no more to feel yourself melting over her. You released your hand from her neck, much to her disgrace, and kissed her deeply. You lowered your kisses to her neck and noticed that there was a shallow reddish imprint of your fingers. You stopped your kisses. “It can be hidden with makeup, Y/N” she resolved, reading your thoughts. “Please don't stop” she whispered. You smiled and drew a line of saliva down her neck, the muscles of which ticked as she lifted her head to receive you.

Underneath her skirt, your fingers were still massaging her without entering her yet.

She was rubbing urgently. “Slow down” you commanded. “You are not coming till I say so” you reminded her.

She gave you an annoyed, almost hateful look, drawing a sly laugh from you. “Damn you...” she muttered coming closer to your mouth. You pulled away a little preventing her from kissing you.

“Uh?” you stopped your touch on her cunt and with your fingertips you traced her labia minora at a torturous slowness. “What did you say?” you lifted your hips pulling your own crotch away from her knee.

You could see how much of an effort she had to make in order to stay still . She gulped, alarmed.

“I apologize,” she said instantly. “Damn me. Ruin me, Y/N.”

“Are you going to behave?” you asked somewhat angrily. A mixture of indignation and disapproval permeated your words.

“Yes” she granted instantly. “I can prove it to you” she added, willingly. She was trying to convince you. "Please, forgive me".

You moved closer to her and she looked at your lips. You rested your crotch on her knee again and she let out a sigh of relief over you.

“I know you can do it. But are you going to?” you inquired feigning skepticism. Now that you were close, you noticed she had stopped masturbating. You knew then that she wouldn't continue until you told her to.

“Yes, my beloved. I am going to do whatever it takes to fulfill your desires” she pledged complacently.

You granted her a laddish smile at last and resumed your massage on her body. “That's how I like it, my princess... You look so gorgeous when you are this obedient” you reaffirmed satisfied, indeed.

You continued your touch whispering praises, massaging her tits with your free hand, over the corset. She removed her hand from your neck and grabbed the fabric of her corset. She looked up at you, “Pull it a little down for me” you whispered. She managed to pull it back just enough for her dark areolas and erect nipples to show themselves to you.

You contemplated her for a few seconds, she moved her fingers over her chest in a distracted gesture. She adored being admired by you.

“Beautiful creature... Show yourself to me” you demanded in a hoot. She lifted her head almost instinctively, as if it were possible to expose herself further.

You attacked her skin with restrained excitement, it was hard to hold back when she got like this. Her collarbone ready to be bitten by you, her breasts exposed and her clothes still covering her body, but with nothing to hide. You ran all over her chest drawing incomprehensible strokes with your lips to anyone but the two of you. You whispered praises incessantly, and she answered with moans of pleasure and choked moans.

“Don't hold it back. Don't hold yourself back, princess. Give it all to me” you encouraged her. “Gorgeous girl...” you continued, and this was the only time she allowed herself to interrupt you.

“Your gorgeous girl” she shamelesly corrected you in a desperate whine. “Your gorgeous girl. As you are my beloved, i'm yours. Im enterely yours.”

She dared to look at you shyly suddenly, for she knew she was bordering on the limits of your agreement. “My beloved lover” she said anyway. She was submitting to you in the most vulnerable way. And oh, she was getting rewarded.

You smiled softly and entered her in response. She closed her eyes and threw her head back moaning your name. She kept whispering that she was yours as you kissed her and she rode you, wiggling her hips deliciously against your fingers.

As she wiggled she massaged your cunt with her knee. You also moved against her, slowly feeling the consciousness leave your body. You attacked her tits, her chest and her neck in equal parts. You caressed her whole body and the cold metal of your watch caressed her curves. Your silver pendant brushed against her skin. She trembled beneath you, closer and closer to the precipice.

Your hand ascended to her collarbone and she caressed your palm, closing her eyes and sighing completely transfixed.

She opened her eyes slightly and looked at you. She was watching you in a way that only she could see you.

“Time stops when we are together” she confided to you in a tone of secrecy. At that moment she was caressing your watch. “I bought you this watch so you could count minutes while we are appart. But it all dissapear when we meet”.

Your fingers were deep in her, you moved in and out slowly and carefully, just as her words were coming out of her mouth. She let out a moan from the effort, she was having a hard time holding on, she wouldn't last much longer.

She looked at you again and it was all it took for her to take the watch from you in a single gesture. In a mocking fit, she held it between her teeth smiling at you. She raised an eyebrow. Irresistible.

“My gorgeous girl. Mine” you dared to say. She half opened her mouth in wonder, and the watch fell to her neck. You brushed your nose against hers in a barely perceptible caress. A delicate display of affection as, under her skirt, your fingers moved in and out of her inner lips at their whim, at just the right speed and pressure. You swayed against her knee and her hand rubbed her clitoris eagerly.

“Am i touching myself how you want me to?” she asked as she realized you noticed her speed.

You nodded and penetrated her as deep as you could. “Yes, princess. You're behaving so well for me. You're making me feel so good... Are you gonna cum?"

“I'm so close” she assured closing her eyes. You took her chin and she opened her eyes. “I'm gonna stop if you quit looking at me. Don't stop looking at me.” She bit her lower lip, looked at your lips and stifled a moan of frustration.

“I don't want to lose detail of your expression when you cum” you admitted in a whisper. She agreed with a look.

“Please, please Y/N... Kiss me afterwards” was all she asked.

“Of course, my dear” you granted instantly. She was your spoiled princess.

Her body trembled barely a minute later and she let herself be carried away by you as she drenched your fingers in a glorious orgasm. You rubbed against her until you released yourself, and continued to wiggle against her as you kissed her, as she requested. You slowly pulled out of her and interrupted your kiss to take your fingers into your mouth. You sucked them down their full length under her watchful and satisfied gaze.

“Hm... So Delicious” you praised, once again.

She gave you one of her irrisistible smiles.

"Just for you".

[nikki152006]

since we were kids | Bakugou X Reader

oneshot; (goes from angst -> fluff)

And there goes yet another day of Bakugou bullying Midoriya, your childhood friend. Of course Bakugou is your childhood friend too, but you sort of snapped it off with him when he started being the devil to Midoriya.

"You don't need to step in, (Name)-chan." Midoriya tells you, "I'll handle it. Kacchan's not that harsh... "

"What, do you need him to kill you for you to understant?" it hurts you to see Bakugou behave this way- the boy who once gloated to you about having a great quirk and being the strongest was now using it to hurt others.

"I need to buy a new notebook." Midoriya stops walking, "It won't take me long. Why don't you go ahead, I'll catch up later. I'll get a warm up run that way too."

You agree and Midoriya hurries off towards the closest stationary.

"Tch, how do I get into U.A. if I get caught doing this shit." an all too familiar voice sounds approaching towards the exit of an alleyway to the side.

Immediately, a frown settles on your face. 

It's been long since you've had a personal talk with Bakugou- you stopped communicating with him ever since he started being a bitch because it broke your heart to see him that way.

Remembering the old days only makes it worse because all that you've felt for him ever since the beginning doesn't seem to fade off- you're hurt by Bakugou's behaviour, yes, but you can't hate him.

But just for Izukkun's sake-

You've made your mind to confront him today.

After all, him telling Midoriya to jump off the roof was crossing the line.

Without another second of allowing worry or doubt to fill your brain, you hurry into the alleyway to come face to face with the ash-blond boy and his two lackeys following behind.

"Bakugou-san." you've been addressing him formally and crudely since a little while now.

"Whoa whoa," the lackeys behind Bakugou who were once your friends too now narrow their eyes in disgust, "looks like someone left her little frail bunny for a while."

"Tsubasa-san." your lips press, "What a pleasant way to initiate conversation after years. How mannered you were back when you were a kid, I wonder where that little boy went." your eyes roll over to Bakugou last second.

After all, your words are just as genuinely meant for him too.

"Let's talk, Bakugou-san."

He tilts his head, eyes dangerously focused into yours. Bakugou walks all the way up to you and towers you to intimidate you and although there's a part of you which somewhat fears what he's become, you know he wouldn't actually hurt you.

All these years of you stepping in when he bullies Midoriya and he's never once caused a scratch on you, though the same can't be said for Midoriya.

"What do you want, dumbass?" the sheer annoyance in his voice is enough of an indication for the other two boys to walk further away from the both of you and give Bakugou his space.

"I... need to talk to you." you avert your eyes to the side momentarily but then force yourself to look back in his eyes, "It's about Izukkun- " his eyes twitch, you jolt and immediately continue, "please, Bakugou-san."

"Fuck off." he almost turns on his heels to leave.

"Katsukkun... " you know he'll stop if you use the nickname you gave him years ago. For some wicked reason, it makes your eyes glassier- it's been years since you've let this out of your mouth.

Bakugou halts just as you think he would.

"Katsukkun, please. Stop the bullying, it's not his fault he's quirkless." there's a sad expression resting on your face now that you've retorted to using a sweet memory from the past to stop him, "He's human too, he can have dreams."

"You literally can't fucking forget your oh-so poor little bunny, huh?" Bakugou looks more annoyed than he's ever been at you, "Go bang your head against a wall or something, bitch."

Without another glance, he turns and walks off. And without a second delay, you turn to run home, eyes dripping down tears for someone you'd committed to never cry over again.

It hurts- that little boy who would smile like the Sun isn't there anymore and it hurts.

.

________________________________________________________

.

You walk into class all alone the next day- Midoriya has texted you asking you to go ahead because he will be late. Taking the opportunity, the girls call you over to join their morning gossip session.

"Hamiri-chan got her first kiss today." one of the girls excitedly tells you while Hamiri covers her face in embarrassment.

You're surprised she got it only now considering she happens to be the prettiest in the entire school. Compared to her, you look like that oddly half-painted crowd member from a nursery grade student's drawing.

Could it be... 

An odd thought enters your mind.

But Katukkun hasn't ever shown interest in her publicly. There's a chance it could be someone else... right?

But the thought doesn't leave your mind- the prettiest girl in school would obviously end up with the most popular and masculine boy, right?

Something churns in your gut and a weight rests on your chest.

"It was Kurotero-kun from the other class." Hamiri mumbles a moment later, "We've been hanging out at a park near our houses recently and well, it just happened."

A deep exhale of relief involuntarily escapes you.

"That's two girls in our class who have had their first kisses." one of the girls cheers, "Wait- that, considering you haven't yet had one, (L/n)-chan. We never asked you."

"Yeah." Hamiri turns to you, "Midoriya-kun looks like he'd explode if we asked you stuff like that."

You laugh but pause once your eyes fall into blood-red ones. It's only now that you notice that all the boys in class are sitting quietly and eavesdropping on the conversation, even Bakugou.

"(L/n)-chan's too bold and generous to lie." one of your friends butters you, "She's the greatest after all. So, (L/n)-chan," she traces her finger over your sleeve, "please tell me you've got a dramatic first kiss story to tell."

"Why," you snort, "did Hamiri-chan's story not fulfill your thirst for drama?"

"Nope." she shakes her head, "It was too sappy and too romantic." and Hamiri laughs at that, "You tell us something interesting, (L/n)-chan."

"Have you had a kiss yet?" Hamiri looks interested to know too. 

Apparently, the long silence before you reply with a "no, of course not" gives away the truth. Now you're really stressed about it.

"So someone literally wasted their time on you?" the class' female bully Hinaya steps forward, her voice sweet and sing-songed in front of the boys (Bakugou), "That's odd. Was it that or did you pay the guy to do it?"

"Hinaya-chan." your friend doesn't look happy with this.

"Oh," Hinaya's eyes widen, "you probably just kissed your hand thinking it's a boy, no? That's the only thing you can get after all." and some boys snicker.

Normally, you've always got something or the other to come back with but it just so happens that this is a particularly touchy subject- that shining boy you shared that kiss with is no longer there, he's been replaced by someone you don't recognize anymore.

"Y-Yeah... " your eyes get glassy, you try to play it off cool, "It was probably just a mistake.. "

"Oh my," Hinaya explains with her hands covering her mouth, voice turned into an annoying one she thinks is cute, "I'm so sorry, (L/n)-chan, but if you're accepting it to be a mistake, the guy would have probably wanted to die."

Your lips shut tight, eyebrows crinkled and an uncomfortable squeeze disturbing your chest.

"Aren't you going to reply, (L/n)-chan?" your friends don't understand why you haven't shut her up yet. It's too unusual of a behvaiour from you, "A-Are you crying?"

"N-No." but a tear is begging to roll down your eye. You turn back, hand raising to clean it off and just to save you at the right time, the door slams open and Midoriya slides inside yelling an "I'm late!"

He deflates in shame the moment he realizes the teacher isn't here yet and that he's made a fool of himself again.

.

You'd told Midoriya to head home without you because you needed some time alone and he was considerate enough to not question back. You're alone in the class now slowly packing your things to leave for home.

The sound of the classroom door opening makes you turn.

"Hey, (L/n)-chan." Hinaya walks in with her lips pulled inot a straight line. You hum in response.

"When did your first kiss happen?" she comes over and leans against your desk, "How old were you back then?"

You're not in the mood to have an argument or spoil your mood in any other way so you decide to give her what she wants and end this unwanted interaction quickly.

"We were like five?"

"Oh." there's an odd relief in her voice, "Well, just so you know, I'm gonna get a kiss by Katsuki-kun soon, I'll make sure of it. You can go on and enjoy your quirkless frail little bunny."

"Okay." you sling your bang over your shoulders.

She frowns, unhappy with your response, "You know, you should just jump off into a river or something. You're such an embarrassment."

"What will you accomplish by me doing that?" the headache she gives you is now splitting your head. You look away to at least not see that disgusting expression on her face.

"You tell me." she snaps, "Why the fuck was Katsuki-kun looking so smug when we were talking about your first kiss, huh?"

"What is he, your imaginary boyfriend?" you hate how she uses his first name, "And about that, Izukkun and Katsukkun," you put emphasis on the nickname, "both know who the first kiss was with."

"It was probably stupid." she eyes you head to toe, "Who'd like an ugly shithole like you anyways?"

"Neither would someone like a disgusting, smelly little bitch like you." Bakugou's voice from a little away from the both of you makes you jolt. You momentarily glance towards the door not having realized him coming in.

Bakugou has his hand in his pocket and his bag slung over his shoulder. His usual scowl rests on his face.

"What?" Hinaya's act is on again, "You're misjudging me, Katsuki-kun."

The next moment, Bakugou's hand in an inch away from his face, "You say my name one more time and I'll explode that empty head of yours."

You hate bullies and bullying but boy, you're loving this at the moment.

"But Katsu-" she realizes he's not joking around once there's sparks forming at his hands, "Bakugou-kun... I'm more closer to you than she is, right? And all she does the whole day is slut around that stupid Midoriya."

You sigh, "Calling me things like slut doesn't make you better than me, Hinaya-chan. You're the trash you are and I'm not. You know that too."

She frowns deep, "You're so full of yourself, (L/n)-chan, you're always using your smartass in front of Bakugou-kun. He wouldn't be impressed by that at all. You didn't even ask him if he was okay after the sludge incident yesterday."

Bakugou's expressions twitch uncomfortably at the mention of this incident you're unaware of.

"Sludge incident?" you look between the both of them.

"Hah." she folds her hands at her chest, "Search it up. I didn't need to go to some browser to know."

"You're gonna glorify stalking me now, eh?" a nerve in Bakugou's forehead twitches, "Sly little bitch, I'm gonna fucking end you someday."

While Hinaya protests and whines against Bakugou's hostility towards her, you're busy getting horrified on reading the article about the sludge incident.

"Katsukkun- " you begin, eyes widened in nothing but worry, "why didn't you tell me? Why didn't Izukkun tell me either- what the fuck?"

Bakugou doesn't reply, he only grabs your arm and drags you out of the classroom leaving Hinaya behind standing in shock to whatever he's said to her before you started to talk.

He continues to drag you all the way out of school into a small, secluded cafe thereby not allowing a word to leave your lips until the both of you are seated under warm yellow lights in a dark aesthetic interior of a surprisingly serene cafe.

"Don't bother me about it." he says, waving his hand in the air in front of you, "I've had enough fucking talks- that old hag wouldn't even shut up."

"Are you okay?"

"The fuck?" he looks annoyed, "You think something would happen to me because of some shitty villain?"

"No, I mean... it was still a villains attack, right? There's always some sort of minor PTSD or something of the sort." you know it's just that he's not willing to talk about it. The bags under his eyes give enough of how healthy his sleep has been the previous night.

"Stop fucking doubting me."

"I don't." you find yourself shifting closer to him, "I'm just worried... sorry if that's annoying you."

It's been some time since your words have been as soft to him. Honestly, you miss moments like these a lot- moments when it was just the two of you sitting in front of each other back when you were little and kept on talking.

This was the setting when he had once pulled your face closer to his and kissed you when you'd only been five. 

The response he had to this cheeky act was that his parents "did it all the time" and that they say one does it with the person they "love".

Sweetest and cutest confession ever.

It's just too sad that the little boy who said that all to you has turned into the gruff, rude bully sitting in front of you.

Bakugou orders a specific ice cream combination the both of you would eat when you were younger. He doesn't once lift his gaze to look at you after that.

Now, you're left to wonder whether he actually remembered or whether his taste hasn't changed in some nine years.

"About what I had to talk about," he starts suddenly, "about all that happened in class today.. " he is cut off by you mid sentence.

"I know, I know." you heart droops, "I won't ever let anyone ever know that you've had an unfortunate kiss with me. It's alright, you're secret is secured with me, Katsukkun."

He blinks, "What's so fucking unfortunate about it?"

"Huh?"

"What's so fucking unfortunate about it? When I become the number one hero, there's going to be lines of girls wishing to get kisses. Why do you think it's unfortunate, then?"

Your lips open, then close. You stare at him for a moment, "I mean, it's unfortunate for you, right? You were too young to think properly at that time and ended up doing something intimate with someone you didn't actually like."

When Bakugou turns to you, his eyes reflect a certain determination- it's as if what he is thinking at the moment is something he has pondered upon for years and years already.

There isn't even a frown on his pretty face, he only looks concentrated. 

When he opens his mouth, words you'd never expect him to say fall out, "Why? Why did you choose him over me?"

"Who?" but you already know who he is talking about. You swallow, "I chose Izukkun over you?"

He doesn't reply but the look in his eyes gives you all the answers you need.

"I didn't choose him over you," tears form in your eyes, "he's been like a brother to me ever since we were little. It's you, Katsukkun, you're the one who chose to behave like a fucking bitch with him and expect everything to be normal with me after that."

Bakugou looks surprised at that although you feel there couldn't be anything more obvious that this. 

"So you don't like him?"

"He's my friend, of course I do."

"Like, the like like him, dumbass." Bakugou frowns.

"No." you rubs your eyes to wipe off the tears, "I don't like him romantically if that's what you're asking."

"Hah." he doesn't look convinced, "All you do is fuck around with him all day and I'm supposed to feel he isn't anything."

"He's like a brother." you're not liking the way there is a percentage of disbelief in his eyes, "And besides, this all shouldn't really be mattering to you."

"Why not?"

You blink, "Why would it?"

Bakugou's head turns away, his eyebrows raising in what seems to you to be frustration. He pauses for a little, eyes flickering around as though looking for the right words to say, then turns back to you.

"Why wouldn't it?"

Wow, genius. You take all the time of the world just to reply with that?

You choose to keep your thoughts to yourself, however, "Why should it?"

"Why shouldn't it?"

"Why would it?" your tone rises the slightest bit. You don't like this game of questions at all, you don't understand what he's trying to get at.

"I don't know, you tell me." he snaps, "You tell me why it would bother me."

"There's no reason for you to." you frown, "You chose to be the guy who bullies his childhood friends, Katsukkun. There's no reason for you to be bothered if I protect my friend from a bully."

Bakugou inhales and exhales deeply, his eyes rolling over to the side and back leaning into the chair. A few moments of silence pass before he turns back to you.

"Do you really not know or are you just acting?"

"Huh?" 

He shifts and straightens to lean forward, "Okay, listen. I'll say this once... " Bakugou inhales deep, "It... wasn't a mistake."

You blink.

"The kiss." he clears his throat, "I... really liked you back then. We were young and whatever but... it was genuine, okay?"

"How genuine can five year olds kissing be?" the words leave your mouth way too quick, "I mean, we should have been doing something like that at such a young age in the first place."

"We were pretty young." Bakugou's lips tighten, "But that doesn't fucking mean it couldn't have been true."

"Are you sure you liked me back then?" it's bittersweet to know he once had feelings for you.

Bakugou is quiet for a moment. When he opens his mouth again, his eyes are dead focused into yours, "I still do. I have.. e-ever since we were kids."

A spark runs down your body, jaw dropping and eyes widening at him.

"Y-You what?"

He inhales loudly and turns away, "I still like you... I don't like it when you're around that damned Deku the whole day. You're not supposed to be with that loser."

"You like me?" your voice is barely a whisper, "What.. no- wait.. what the- wow. What the fuck, wow."

"You like that?" his eyebrows raise at the floods of red filling into your cheeks, "Are you– what the fuck are you crying for?"

You haven't realized the tears in your eyes until now, "Wh-What... no. I'm not crying.. I'm.." a small cough escapes your lips, "uhm.. so..."

"Mhm?" Bakugou is waiting for the response although he doesn't make it too obvious.

"I... really miss you everyday, Katsukkun." you end up saying, "I miss what you used to be, I can't take the idea of you becoming a bully or a mean person. It hurts."

"What?"

"It hurts so fucking much because I... " you swallow and wipe your tears, "I really like you too. But... I-I can't.."

"Because of him?" his teeth grit, "That Deku–"

"Because you kept on saying you'd be a hero but all you are is a thug, Katsukkun." you snap. A tear rolls down your cheek, "Because it's you whose wrong not him. I can't love a guy who bullies. Feelings for you make me guilty."

Bakugou blinks, "Love?"

"Well what do you expect?" you hysterically laugh it out amidst the tears then swallow, "Other than this one thing, you're great."

"You love me?"

"I do." you nod, hands wiping down your tears, "I really fucking do."

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you while you clean your face and try to calm down. It's too odd for you to be crying this way while accepting your feelings for him especially when the both of you are sitting in a restaurant.

"If... " Bakugou is staring at the ground, "If I ignore him... " he turns to you, " w-would you give me a chance?"

You blink, "A-A chance?"

"To be with you?" he straightens, "To be together?"

Something blooms in your chest, "I... " there's nothing you could ever have wanted more, "Yeah. I'd... love that."

"Great." Bakugou falls back into the chair.

You pause, "But that does mean now bullying him or anyone when I'm around. And I don't want any drama."

"Hah." his eyebrows raise, "You're the one who'd be causing the drama, okay? I don't care about stupid drama."

A small tug makes your lips stretch to a smile, "If you be bitch, I'll dump you Katsukkun."

"Well I'll dump you before that." he snaps.

"Oh, so you want to dump me?" you dramatically clutch your heart and pick your thinks up, "I should be leaving then, no?"

"Oi." he grabs your hand and pulls you down, "Stop it. And there you are proving what I'm saying, dramatic, stupid little girl."

"Says the guy who is serious about the girl he kissed when was five." you giggle.

Bakugou frowns, his ears now visibly getting redder, "Says the girl who's in love with me."

[sensorydephrivation]

Amatonormative assumptions and the language of a hard launch: a rambly DnP essay thing

I have a lot of Discourse Thoughts about hard launching and all that, but there’s not much I can say that hasn’t already been said. This fandom is one that generally has significant representation on both sides of any major issue; any take you look for you can find someone genuinely believing. What I am interested in analyzing is how some people are insistent, whether or not they want it to happen or believe it will happen, that they haven’t Hard Launched, and others are equally insistent that they have. Because on the surface those should be completely contradictory takes, but a large amount of people believe each to be true.

I’ve seen posts making comparisons to PJ and Sophie, and I definitely think that’s a useful tool because it brings up the real question here: how do we speak about romantic and platonic relationships, and what underlying assumptions are at play when we use or don't use certain words?

Firstly, this issue is obviously mostly to entirely due to homophobia. Why do people assume PJ and Sophie are a couple just because they live together, even though they've never used the words? Because they're a man and a woman. Why couldn't DnP be publicly open about their relationship back in the day? Because they're gay. I'm not going to spend too much time on this point because it's obvious, but I feel like it's important to remember that Dan and Phil's relationship wasn't some Great Secret for no reason. They weren't no-homo-ing because of privacy or whatever, but because they weren't yet ready to face the immense challenges being publicly out sticks you with, especially in the early 2010s. If homophobia wasn't a thing, everything else I'm going to say in this post would still be true, but it would all be significantly less charged. Just remember that gay marriage wasn't legal in the UK when DnP met each other, and that 2000s pop culture overall was routinely, openly, virulently homophobic. Just keep that in mind. (Also, everything I talk about in this post refers to 2019 onwards, after they came out. I wasn't around for the no-homo era and can't speak on it. I'm also not going to be talking about the speculation around their relationship, because that's been talked about so much. It definitely is a factor in all of this, but you know that already)

Onto the main point of this post. The reason DnP haven't "hard launched" (that term itself is incredibly vague, but its popular meaning in this fandom seems to be explicit confirmation of a romantic relationship, which is how I'm using it here) while also having clearly done so is because their use of language does not line up with conventional expectations of how language around romantic and platonic relationships should be used.

The concept of "dating" as we think of it today is relatively recent, and language around it is even newer. The terms "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" only became prominent in the mid- to late- 20th century, and it took a while for them to gain the connotation (of almost always meaning a romantic relationship) that they have today. And yet people have still had romantic relationships for forever! How these things were described would depend on the society's norms around marriage and sex and often on the exact social dynamic of the couple. Today, we think we're better than all that and can find words for anything.

I'm no expert on what makes a relationship romantic vs platonic or even how to define those terms. I find it hard to define the concept of romance in a way that doesn't bring with it centuries of heteronormative amatonormative assumptions. And boy are there assumptions. (No, people who live together for life do not have to be romantically involved, that's a silly thing to believe.) When people see a relationship that lines up or does not line up with those assumptions, they expect it to have a clean, simple label. But the words we used for romantic relationships outside of marriage, due to how new they are, are completely not simple!

While these days they seem to be the most "unambiguous" terms to describe a romantic relationship, "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" are essentially euphemisms that can seem infantilizing and demeaning of the seriousness of a relationship. It's easy to see how they aren't for everyone, even if many people are fine using them for serious committed relationships. "Partner" is kind of ambiguous on purpose, thought like bf and gf, I think it's on its way to becoming a word with mainly romantic connotations. The term "significant other" is out of fashion these days, but just like bf, gf, and "partner," it's basically a euphemism that doesn't mean much in and of itself. We have no words to describe an unmarried romantic couple that aren't on some level unclear or unindicative of the actual nature of the relationship.

Dan and Phil have acknowledged that they were once in a romantic relationship, have made many many jokes about having sex with each other, and are committed life partners. On some level, you can take the combination of these things as a very clear confirmation of a current romantic relationship, which many do. Yes, this requires making a few assumptions, but they aren't the craziest assumptions in the world. In fact, as one can see from the PJ and Sophie example, they are assumptions that are often normal and expected to be made in social situations. So why do so many others not see it this way?

Well for one, we are a mostly queer community that understands the complexity of queer relationships and how these assumptions do not get applied equally. We see how these assumptions are often used against queer people to devalue their identities, especially those on the ace-aro spectrum and/or in queerplatonic relationships. We also are an extremely online community, familiar with the complicated layers of discourse around RPF and shipping, and hesitant to make assumptions in a way that could potentially damage relationships or invade someone's privacy.

But honestly? It's because DnP don't call themselves boyfriends. They don't explicitly frame their activities in romantic ways (e.g. call things dates). The terms they use and jokes they make, even in 2024, are not the sort of things we expect from the set of assumptions that go with a committed romantic relationship. (This is also where the discourse about whether or not they're open/poly comes from, but that's a topic for another day.)

The Date Night video stretches this to its absolute max. The game is full of cards about kissing and other things that fit cleanly into the set of romantic relationship assumptions, but they didn't use any of those cards. They only used things that were ambiguous, and tried to downplay the romantic implications as much as possible aside from the lampshading of it at the start of the video ("this is a great game to play with your best buddy as well" "phil says no homo" as well as the entire "ugh i can't believe they send us this" tone of the intro). The use of "partner" in this video is the clearest example of this. The game uses this word exclusively- after all, it's a standard, accepted, gender-neutral word for people in a romantic relationship. Phil confidently reads it off the card, with the "I don't care which set of assumptions this assigns us" attitude that's been prevalent over the past year and past few months especially. Dan avoids it half the time, and at the end of the video, seems to clearly mock the term, saying it in a silly voice and then comparing it to how stereotypical cowboys use the word. This stuck out to me; it made it very noticeable that they don't use that word at least in videos, and made me think about the connation of the word they do use-- "friend." That term, unlike any of the words I've mentioned so far, implies literally nothing. "Friends" can be people with a barely positive relationship or people with an incredibly meaningful relationship they center their life around. With no other qualifiers, it also implies that the people in question don't have a romantic relationship (are "just friends"), or even (because of amatonormativity) that their relationship is not especially deep or meaningful.

Dan and Phil have defined their relationship in quite a few ways-- or rather, Dan has, in BIG and in his interviews for WAD. These quotes circulate on here constantly as people discuss the meaning of them. I'm not really interested in talking about those as they've already been talked to death. I do think it's worth noting that we only get these things from Dan-- the one time Phil has ever spoken on his "current dating life" it was just to say "I don't want to talk about that, the door is closed." Obviously some of this is because the interviewers were pushy, but also I'm sure Dan enjoys his elaborate poetic metaphors enough to not be able to shut up about them haha. (Very unrelated but I wonder if this will come up if they end up doing interviews for TIT?) The thing is, these definitions show a deep, meaningful, complex, committed relationship. They include directly romantic terms like "husbands," "soul mates," and "normal gay relationship." You would think being willing to call someone your husband, even with a million other words around it, would mean you wouldn't have a problem calling them your partner, right? Yet these words do not reflect the language they use when speaking about each other in videos!

There are times when they say "friend" "buddy" or "mate" in a clearly humorous, ironic way, and seem aware that it isn't a term that makes people think of a committed, long term relationship. Other times, they use the word as if it is a fully accurate descriptor of their relationship-- in the glue story, Dan jokes about being ashamed to be seen as "the friend of the glue guy," and in How Phil Nearly Died, he quotes himself telling the hospital staff he is looking for "my friend." I use the hospital stories as examples because they are high-stakes (or seemingly high-stakes in the case of the glue story) situations and examples of how other people in their real lives perceive them. The way they choose to tell these stories to the internet is one in which the fact that a random hospital worker would likely interact differently with Dan if he was Phil's friendly roommate as opposed to his life partner doesn't matter. In other words: if they actually do call each other "friends" irl around strangers, those strangers probably have a very different impression of their relationship than we do. Their consistency in describing themselves doing so just means that they want to consistently use the term "friends" in their videos, not that they actually do that in real life. But to a viewer who is unsure about their relationship status, the fact that they are clearly life partners, no matter platonic or romantic, but in all situations opt for a word that does not imply that seems to be confirmation that their relationship is not clearly romantic, or at least that they don't want to refer to it as such.

If I have to draw a conclusion from all this, it's that DnP consider their relationship very complex and unusual (ymmv on if it is, lol) and have had to deal with a ridiculous level of scrutiny about it nonetheless. Again, Phil has almost never spoken on this, but Dan clearly dislikes any descriptor that carries with it a sense of assumptions about the nature of the relationship, hence why he uses like fifty contradicting ones or strange metaphors instead. "Friend" carries with it no assumptions. You can be "friends" and be in a romantic relationship-- plenty of people say "I married my best friend." But our society considers romantic relationships to be more meaningful and important than platonic ones. People assume that if you are in a romantic relationship, you would want to describe your relationship exclusively using terms that carry that set of assumptions, because that is the most important part about it. I honestly think Dan is being quite subversive in refusing to do so.

I have no idea if or when this will ever change, but I hope I've given enough context for those who are convinced they've already hard launched to understand why others are still waiting, and for those who don't think they have to understand why the issue is more complicated than it seems. This topic has fascinated me ever since I first started watching them, and I hope this post can help people reach a bit more of a understanding, rather than inciting more discourse.

[perfectlysanexd]

I haven't done one of these kind of posts in a while, but the expressions in Rebirth were top notch, and I wanted to talk a bit about and analyze Sephiroth's different smiles, both pre and post Nibelheim.

Nibelheim itself is difficult to gauge, because SOLDIER Cloud is actually Zack, and furthermore, some of it is definitely his own wishful thinking. But one thing you can say for sure, is that they portray that Sephiroth, despite being so emotionally weary, still summons up the energy to smile at his friend.

As soon as he turns away from Zack, his smile falls, and he doesn't give one to the Mayor at all.

However, when he turns back to inform the men that they're free until sundown, he summons up another smile for them. I don't think that he's just attempting to keep their morale up, he genuinely has affection for Zack, and cares for the others. He respects them for their service, putting their lives on the line for what they think is a good cause, and Sephiroth—as we saw in Ever Crisis—learned to be a compassionate person, who cares about the lives of others, even enemies.

Of course, he's deeply distressed during this time, the despair is eating him alive. Even Cloud acknowledges(despite having not known Sephiroth on a personal level) that he just wasn't himself once they arrived. But I'm not going to talk about my theories on all the Jenova stuff right now, that's not the focus here. Even at the window, you can tell he's feeling off, but when he turns to Zack, he attempts to smile again.

Sephiroth has never enjoyed his fame, and as we learned in Ever Crisis, he didn't choose it; Shinra made up bogus achievements and declared him to be a hero before even his first field assignment, as part of their recruitment campaign. Can't argue with results, I guess—it certainly got Cloud to join up out of hero worship, right? In EC, Sephiroth admits that all he ever wanted was to be normal, something that he knows he can never have. How sad...

So when this man wants to take his picture, it's no wonder that he's over it by then, and tells him no. And rather politely, too, all things considered. But even before that, he smiles and tells Zack that as long as he does his job, their young tourguide will be safe.

But as soon as he turns his back and walks away? Yeah, that smile immediately fades.

Which certainly doesn't change when the guy takes his picture. But of course, when Zack asks Sephiroth to pose for one, he just can't say no, even though he's not super happy about it. Anyway, he continues to smile at Zack for the duration of their journey up Mt. Nibel, making an effort to talk and even cracking a couple jokes, just trying to be a good leader and keep them in good spirits.

And of course, there's the very sad bridge part, where you can tell that he's genuinely upset that he failed to save the other infantryman that got washed away. He searches for him, but comes up empty-handed. Still, he smiles for Zack and teases him about a performance assessment, since their morale is quite low now, but they need to keep going.

Honestly, the Nibelheim part of Rebirth really did an excellent job of portraying Sephiroth's inner struggle. For reference, there are only 3 points in Remake, I think, when Sephiroth drops his ever-present, sometimes affectionate(towards Cloud) and often unhinged, smile: First, it's replaced with sheer rage as he kills President Shinra.

Second time, is when Aerith has a Cetra moment and suggests that his entire existence is "wrong".

And the third time is when he holds out his hand to Cloud at the Edge of Creation, and is rejected by him.

Anyway, back to Rebirth. Ignoring the bizarre smiles he showed us as Nibelheim was burning, as if he was in a trance and just not all there(that's a subject for a different chat), post-Nibelheim Sephiroth's smiles are interesting, too, if we consider what kind they are, depending on who he's dealing with.

For people he hates, like Tseng, it's much more unhinged looking, and very cold. You can tell there's a certain measure of satisfaction from shanking him, haha...

For someone like Aerith, who...I wouldn't exactly say that he hates her, but she's definitely in the way. I would almost say that he considers her to be actively preventing Cloud from recovering his true memories, leading him to remain as merely Sephiroth's "puppet", but that's a theory for another day. He looks at her coldly, as well, but it's a bit different. There's a bit more respect there than there was for Tseng.

And then there's Zack. Actual Zack. I feel like, deep down, he still cares about him, and has no intention of killing him. I almost sense a little...regret? Maybe? Hm. It's definitely a bit warmer of a smile. And of course, although he had many opportunities to get rid of Zack, he doesn't. Instead, he sends him off into the space between worlds safely.

And of course, last but certainly not least, is the way he smiles at Cloud. I know, I know. "But Sane, you like sefikura, so you're biased!" Look, I won't deny that. However, when you really look at it and compare his smiles, which is what this is all about, his truest smiles are always saved for Cloud. He has 2 different "flavors": pure affection and cruel affection. (There are also a few pity smiles, I think.) The former is used most of the time, whenever Cloud is in his sight, and the latter is used during moments when he's trying to control/influence him. I would almost say that he's...satisfied, yet regretful at the same time?? Like these:

And now, let's contrast that with his more genuine, affectionate smiles for Cloud... (The first shot here ⬇ can be contrasted with the shot 2 up from the bottom there ⬆, as the one above is when he's calling Cloud his puppet, and the one below is when Cloud goes to attack him and he opens his arms wider for the incoming uh...embrace.)

Remake had many interesting smiles from him, too, but that will have to be a different post, as this already has 30 screenshots. Anywho, you're free to draw your own conclusions, and not everyone reads faces in the same way, so maybe I'm nuts. Who knows? Either way, I hope you enjoyed this random, indulgent, very long post, haha. If you made it to the end, you're awesome. 💕

All screenshots were taken by me on my PS5. I won't ask for credit on them, since literally anyone can take an identical shot if they pause at the right second. (The exception are the 3 Remake shots, which were taken on PC with mods and the freecam. For those, I would appreciate credit if you use them anywhere, since I don't watermark them.)

[conundrumoftime]

One of the fun things about shipping Haladriel and about Galadriel's story in Rings of Power, for me, is that we know exactly where this is going to end up. And I wanted to babble for a bit about where that place is because I have seen so many people view it as "she is retired to some woods to be a passive wife-and-mother who can do magic but in a mystical New Age-y way", and: no! No.

So a quick overview of where she will end up by LOTR:

Very much not removed from the war against Sauron.

She is constantly mind-battling against Sauron: One of the lines that inspired McKay and Payne's whole show was her talking about this: "I say to you, Frodo, that even as I speak to you, I perceive the Dark Lord and know his mind, or all of his mind that concerns the Elves. And he gropes ever to see me and my thought." In one of the versions of the Annatar story in Unfinished Tales, Sauron immediately realises she will be his 'chief adversary', and has apparently not changed that assessment 3500 years later.

She co-ordinates joint efforts against Sauron: The White Council that Elrond talks about in LOTR, the combined force of Ring-bearers, wizards and elf-lords that first drives Sauron out of Dol Guldur - she's not just on that, she founded it.

She gets Gandalf back after Moria and the Balrog: Galadriel learns what's happened to Gandalf from the Fellowship when they arrive in Lothlórien. The the Fellowship are sad; the elves of Lothlórien mourn; Celeborn loses it a bit and says Gandalf 'fell into folly'; but Galadriel sends Gwaihir the eagle to get him, returns him to health, updates him on the situation with Boromir, gives him some messages to take to the others, and sends him back on his way.

She is possibly in Lothlórien because of its position of strategic importance: from Unfinished Tales here, she 'saw that Lórien would be a stronghold and point of power to prevent the Shadow from crossing the Anduin in the war that must inevitably come' and that's why she and Celeborn go there. (There are other versions as with almost everything else in Tolkien, but this is one of them.) She's not there to hide away from Events.

2. Calmer than in TROP, but not all-wise and all-sweet and still pretty scary.

She is still tempted by power and world domination: "I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired to ask what you offer [...] In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the morning and the night!"

And, she doesn't just turn down the One Ring because it's abstractly eeeevil. She turns it down because she knows what she, specifically, would do with it. Sam sees a vision of the Shire, and tells her "I wish you'd take his Ring. You'd put things to rights. You'd stop them digging up the Gaffer and turning him adrift. You'd make some folk pay for their dirty work," to which she says that yes, she would: "That is how it would begin. But it would not stop with that, alas! We will not speak more of it."

And saying she wants to rule the world here is not me joking about! This is Tolkien describing that moment in LOTR:

It was not until two long ages more had passed, when at last all that she had desired in her youth came to her hand, the Ring of Power and the dominion of Middle-earth of which she had dreamed, that her wisdom was full-grown and she rejected it

People are scared of her: The only scary moment we directly see is the Ring temptation, but she does other unsettling things. When she meets the Fellowship she tests them by reading their minds and offering something they really want to see if it would make them "turn aside from the road and leave the Quest and the war against Sauron to others." (She offers Sam a garden; the One Ring later on tempts him with the same thing.) Even the hobbits are a bit disturbed by this and Boromir, who's already said he doesn't want to go into Lothlórien because people who do that never leave again, absolutely does not trust her.

Éomer, a few chapters later:

'Then there is a Lady in the Golden Wood, as old tales tell!' he said. 'Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange days! But if you have her favour, then you are also net-weavers and sorcerers, maybe.'

She's scary! She's ancient and powerful and people are scared of her.

3. Married, but not in the character-limiting way the nerdbros want it to be and would have you believe it is.

I am not telling anyone they should ship Galadriel/Celeborn or even find it interesting just because I do, but, the angry nerdbros fancasting Celeborn as Henry Cavill and talking about how he'll come back to tame her and tidy her neatly out of the narrative are writing their own little AU headcanons because that is not what's in the text.

She's the more powerful one. Partly because she's one of the 'High Elves' - she's Noldor and has lived in Valinor seen the light of the Trees - which for various reasons about the way Tolkien's elves work just makes her more powerful, partly because she has a Ring of Power and Celeborn doesn't. It's her Mirror; she's the one reading people's minds; she's the one locked in endless mental battles with Sauron; she's the one the Rohirrim (whose lands border Lothlorien's) tell each other scary stories about. Celeborn at no point ever seems to have an issue with this, and calls her his 'treasure'.

They work together. Even in a big-action-sequences sense: after Sauron's defeat, Celeborn 'led the host of Lorien over Anduin in many boats' to Dol Guldur, where Galadriel 'threw down its walls and laid bare its pits'. But the rest of the time, too: she says of him that 'together through ages of the world we have fought the long defeat'.

You really get the sense that they have been married for a loooooong time. An actual sequence of events in LOTR, somewhat condensed:

The Fellowship reveal there's a Balrog in Moria;

Celeborn goes "!!!!", complains about dwarves waking it up and says he'd never have let Gimli into Lothlorien if he'd known that;

Galadriel smacks Celeborn down for being rude to their guest;

Celeborn apologises to Gimli;

Galadriel tells the Fellowship that Celeborn is accounted the wisest of elves;

Boromir says something about "old wives' tales";

Celeborn, whose wife is one of the oldest beings in Middle-earth, tells Boromir not to be so dismissive because "old wives keep in memory word of things that once were needful for the wise to know";

Galadriel hands Celeborn a drink.

Whatever is going on here is clearly something that works for them, is what I'm saying! And you don't have to find their marriage interesting just because I do, of course; but what it's not is some trad fantasy of domestic subservient-wife anything.

So where her TROP story ends up is ultimately with LOTR Galadriel: powerful, important, tempted to rule the world, a bit calmer than in TROP, a bit happier than in TROP, co-ordinating big strategic efforts in the war, married to someone who's got her back and adores her and they fall out a bit sometimes but generally work pretty well together, and still having Sauron constantly trying to get into her head. I am fine with this! I am more than fine with this.

[sunarots]

so high school ━━━ atsumu miya

34. no pressure ♡

Sitting on the floor of the bathroom wasn't how you planned to finish your day. You wanted to come home with your boyfriend and your friends, have a nice dinner, and then celebrate your win. And yet, here you sit on the bathmat, knees hugged to your chest with a towel wrapped around you. After all, when you hide in the bathroom under the guise of taking a shower, you can't come out still dirty. And yet, after two hours, you can't seem to will yourself to move.

He loves you... But how can he know? It's not been long enough, he hardly knows you. Surely he's mistaken. There's so much yet he has to know about you, and you about him. All you know about his family is his brother. What about his parents? Any other siblings? Cousins? Pets? What if he's allergic? What if you can never get a cat? Oh god...

You jump a little at the knock on the door, loud enough so you can decipher it's not part of the song playing through the speaker. You stay in your spot, turning your head to the door and humming with the hope of being heard.

"Hey, everything okay?" Atsumu's voice comes through the wood, the concern evident. You can picture him leaning against the doorframe, eyebrows furrowed with his ear pressed against the door. "Angel?"

Your heart stutters in your chest with a pang of guilt, shifting your weight onto your knees and shuffling towards the door. You unlock it without speaking, settling back into position once again and waiting for Atsumu to enter.

When he does, he immediately closes the door and twists the lock. He spins around and faces you on the floor, sighing and sliding down the door until he's sitting. At first, he doesn't say anything, he just plays with his fingers in his lap with a frown.

You turn to look at him, resting your cheek on your knees. You watch him frantically glance between the floor, you and his fingers on a loop. It's like he's waiting for something. "Atsu..."

"Um, I get it. Don't worry," he whispers, almost being missed by you. He finally looks up at you, eyes glassed over and a wide smile. "Don't worry. I get it. Yer not there yet, and ya probably won't be. I-" His eyes dart away, focusing on the frosted window above the sink. "I'm really sorry, I just- I need ya to know that I really do love ya, and I'm happy for everything we got to do together." He looks back at you once more, quickly wiping at his cheeks before shifting to leave.

You sit upright, your jaw slack at his words. What? Did he just end it with you? You quickly reach out and grab his arm, your free hand adjusting the towel wrapped around you. You tug at him to get him to stop from leaving, heart shattering at the tears on his cheek.

"Oh, Atsu." You reach up and wipe his at tears with your thumbs, settling back down. "I admit, I freaked out when you said...that. I got spooked, because... How can you know you love me? We haven't been together that long, and just- What if you don't really love me and you just think you do, and then we- you decide you don't actually love me once morning and leave?"

Atsumu laughs, a genuine laugh. "Leave ya? Y/n, I mean it. I- This is so stupid. I remember ya being at the Olympics. I saw ya talking to Kageyama and Ushiwaka. I- I asked Omi if he knew who ya were, and Shoyo said that yer close to them. I wanted to come up to ya, but I was told that you were dating Ushiwaka. I've known who ya were, and I thought about ya all the time. I- I know I love ya, because no one I've ever dated has made me feel like you do. I could never leave ya, y/n. Never."

Your hand stays on his cheek, an unfamiliar warmth growing in your chest. You press your lips together in a firm line, trying to think of anything to express yourself to him. You can feel your heart beating in your ears, drowning out everything around you apart from him.

Atsumu hasn't moved, scared that if he does he will lose your touch forever. He savours the warmth, the safeness, the comfort, everything he feels in this moment just in case it's the last. His eyes are still red from the tears, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

"Atsu, I... I don't know if I can say it yet, but, I'm getting there. I will get there," you promise, dropping your arms and pulling back. "I'm sorry. I should have come and spoken to you, but I just didn't know what to say. No one's... I don't know if you've noticed, but my friends aren't really affectionate like that."

Atsumu can't help the laugh that comes out when attempting to picture your friends be nice. “I think the nicest may be Kuroo, which is probably saying something.”

A smile tugs at your lips, your arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him in closer to you. “It does,” you giggle, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

Atsumu shifts the way he’s sat so you can pull you onto his lap, bringing you closer to him. “Don’t feel any pressure to say it back, but I love you. So much. Thanks for being in my life, darlin’.”

masterlist. previous | next

summary. after your best friend reveals he’s moving out of your shared flat, you’re presented with a tough choice: let one of the creeps who are begging you to let them move in with you, or find a cheaper flat in another area of town. a do-over couldn’t have come at a better time for you, but your only option for a place to stay is with someone your best friend knew from high school, and his two teammates.

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Good evening (or morning, afternoon, wherever u r) to you, Miss Raven, *tips hat* How do you do?

First of all, I was reading through the your canon Malleus romance analysis and i’ve just gotta say I love how you give a realistic approach to these characters and their world! 🙌🏻

But that also got me thinking, how would Leona prioritize his romantic vs royal life?

As second born prince, I wanna say Leona actually has more breathing room to pick whoever he wants as a partner (if the royal family doesn’t arrange a marriage before he gets that chance), plus, the Sunset Savanna’s next heir apparent is already born, so really there’s nothing worry about succession unless something happens to Cheka and or Falena. But at the same time Leona is still ridiculed by his people, so will that have any affect on who he wants to be with if he happens to choose someone other than another beast(wo)man or someone in a class lower than a noble?

And even tho he isn’t first in line for the throne, Leona is still royalty. I think he could pick a partner who is more private and less sociable with their life, but I also think they still might need to be prepared for the royal life, lack of privacy, speaking with the public, and other royal duties (even if Leona himself won’t do them).

TL;DR Do you think Leona’s status as second prince actually gives him a benefit for who he can pick as a romantic partner and how would the people’s view on him affect this, and what do you think would expected of Leona’s partner in the royal life even tho he’s not first in line for the throne?

What’s your take on this?

Related posts: Malleus / Kalim

Greetings 🎵 Life’s been a bit stressful lately, but I’m getting by! Busy planning something big for the blog too, so excited for that.

I think you must be talking about that post where I discussed what the expectations would probably be for Malleus’s future spouse? Thank you for the praise though! While anyone can ship themselves or their OC with Malleus in the latter, there’s certain in-universe logic that must be followed in the former. It feels very different to be a character in that world versus an outsider looking in. Being able to switch and see from those perspectives is important, I feel.

My thoughts on this topic aren't as concrete as what I laid out for my Malleus post, mostly because we don't know as much about Sunset Savanna's politics and since Leona isn't burdened by the same expectations as the crown prince or first in line to the throne. I feel like this post will be a lot of speculation, so just be cognizant of that.

As Leona is right now, I don't think he has much of an interest or an obligation to find someone. His focus seems to be on tending to himself and his own goals to help those around him, be it his juniors (Epel, Jack, Ruggie, etc.) or his country (due to his internship at a energy and mining lab). I definitely feel like that's where his priorities lie, and anyone he might take on as a life partner would also have to have a passion and dedication for this kind of service, whether they also engage in it or they at least support Leona's endeavors.

I also think that Leona would personally want an intelligent partner that's able to hold their own in a discussion, but only to a certain extent. Like, they have to be able to coherently express their own thoughts but I don't think he wants to deal with someone so stubborn that they constantly put up a fight with him if they happen to disagree. Leona has demonstrated multiple times that he finds it a hassle when people don't listen to him, so he tries to put himself in situations where he doesn't have to face that in the first place. For example, Leona states that he dislikes Silver and Rook, as they constantly act on their own and seem to disregard anything that others around them say. Additionally, he lacks a vice dorm leader because he made the conscious decision to not pick one, as he doesn't want someone challenging his decisions. Leona also strategically caves to his sister-in-law's demands to avoid wasting time and energy in an argument, since he knows that beastwomen tend to be strong-willed. His partner would have to know when to step back and give him space or when is not a good time to keep pressing a point. That means there'd be a certain element of emotional intelligence involved too, not just general wisdom or knowledge.

In these circumstances, I don't think there would be as much of an importance placed on the social status of Leona's spouse since he's like... what? Fourth in line to rule? His father is still alive, Falena/Farena is still fine, and Cheka's there too. The chances of Leona actually having to step up to that plate are low. There's no pressing need for Leona to find a partner or to produce an heir of his own. I don't recall there being lore about his older brother and sister-in-law having an arranged marriage or what social class his sister-in-law is from, so... there's not a lot to go off of there. I think, at the very least, we can assume there's not as much pressure for Leona to be in an arranged marriage since he isn't the crown prince. I don't get the sense that Sunset Savanna is as conservative with its social expectations as Briar Valley is, so it's doubtful whether or not the public would care about a royal marrying a commoner or a beastman marrying a non-beastman. To my latter point, there doesn't seem to be as strong of a racial divide between beastmen and humans (unlike fae and humans), so I don't think this would pose a major concern. But hey, maybe they do care a lot about status since Leona's flashback keeps harping on the importance of birth order--but that ultimately has no baring on the commoner versus royal thing. Maybe this is me being too much of an idealist, but I do think it would be possible for Leona's partner to come in and prove themselves, since their reputation (unlike Leona's) isn't already marred by being second in line to the throne and having a golden child to be compared to. If anything, I feel like the people would fear for the safety of Leona's spouse rather than what their "marrying outside of the norm" means for the country. Since there's a negative public view of Leona, I feel that this would translate into worry for the spouse rather than assuming they are "just as bad" as Leona. They're an outsider with a completely separate background from Leona's, and that I doubt that most people have the magic to rival his strength. Where would their fear of the spouse be reasonably coming from? I think the more likely situation would be the public feeling sympathy for the spouse (like, what if Leona's magic harms them) and wondering what they must see in the second-born prince. There might be a lot of gossip or concerns swirling around their courtship, little judgmental whispers and passing glances that are hard to avoid, maybe some hissed warnings to be careful around Leona, etc. The spouse should be careful how they react to public opinion though, as lashing out could make them be perceived as ill-tempered and crude, a poor reflection of both their own attitude as well as confirming preconceived notions of Leona. They should be equipped to handle socially complicated situations with grace and tact. When it comes to Leona, they should also be ready to provide him with some emotional support—not as a therapist he trauma dumps to or anything like that, but as a trusted and nonjudgmental confidant.

I think the spouse would receive the harshest scrutiny should they step into a more public-facing role… like if they started to enact or push for policies that go against the country’s reverence for nature and living in harmony with it. They would most certainly get pushback for it, maybe earn ire for not being “attuned” with its people. Leona’s spouse would, at the bare minimum, be expected to represent the values of Sunset Savanna and to engage in its ceremonies and traditions. For example, Leona—the second prince—is meant to train the winners of the Bead Brawl. Whatever royal duties are set for the spouses of the royal family… well, they should be prepared to fulfill them.

On the subject of privacy and sociability, it might actually be a drawback if Leona’s spouse were private and not sociable. Not being seen or interacting in public very often means people are left to their own devices and assumptions—and if Leona is the first person they associate with his spouse, it could lead to the public forming negative thoughts. "Oh, they're withdrawn because they don't care about us. Oh, they must be moody and hard to get along with." There’s a lot of earning trust that has to be done, especially if Leona intends to enact social reform, so I think it would make for better optics if his spouse really put themselves out there and was proactive in the community. Instead of framing themselves as a shut-away or some rando that married into the royal family, they have to be willing to step outside of their comfort zone and act like a leader if push comes to shove, show how outgoing and determined they can be.

Last thought I have on this matter I guess is related to how Leona’s loved ones would react. I don’t think the named characters would care about the details all too much?? Farena appears to respect his brother and treats him warmly, even when Leona brushes him off. He’d want Leona to be happy and at his best mentally and emotionally when and if he decides to help govern the country. And Cheka, well… maybe he’s a little too young to fully understand what’s going on, but I think he’d want his uncle to be happy too. I’d say even Kifaji would be on board with it, though perhaps not as openly as Farena or Cheka. He’s a stern older man, so I can absolutely see him scolding Leona and nagging him about his choice of partner—but in the way that a concerned grandparent would, you know? Not in an outright malicious way like the Briar Valley senators might. Unlike them, Kifaji can see the good in his prince and wants the best for him, even if he comes off as too overbearing at times. Kifaji doesn't unnecessarily act vitriolic or belittling to Leona, he states truths (that Leona acts improperly at times) and earnestly expresses his wish that Leona recognizes his own potential. He'll probably pull up to interrogate the spouse (because he cares that Leona marries someone who loves and values him), but ultimately give his blessings along with a plea for them to take good care of his second prince.

[autistichalsin]

So I just got back home a while ago, which is 5,000 feet higher in elevation than my hometown. YOU WILL BE ADJUSTING TO ALTITUDE, basically. So I've been tired and out of breath.

So tonight my mom was pestering me to get to the doctor- which is fine in and of itself. She cares, etc. I told her look, my bestie had the same thing when she was adjusting here. If I feel worse or it doesn't get better soon, I'll do it.

My mom got pissed and snapped that I was doing damage to my body. Keep in mind, she was ALSO convinced a few years ago that I was going to eventually go blind from my chronic dry eye disease if I didn't get in to an ophthalmologist immediately. She was convinced I'd go blind. From dry eyes.

I said mom, it's fine, and she whined that I never go to to the doctor. I said I did when I needed it not too long ago, and she moved the goalposts, saying YEAH it's like there was something wrong then just like now! I replied, mom, it's almost like I know when something is seriously wrong and when something isn't, and this is a "under the weather" issue not a "I'm really sick" issue.

And then I made the mistake of saying I know my body a little better than she does...

SHE LAUGHED AT ME. In my face. "HAAHAHA! Are you serious right now? You didn't really just say that, did you?" Like it was the most absurd thing anyone had ever said to her. Like I'd told her the moon was made of jello.

I was pissed. So then I just said "mom, I'm ending this conversation because I don't like being condescended to. I love you and have a good night" and then I hung up on her for the first time since she got sober.

I've never hung up on her without her actively yelling at me, but I did then, because that was fucking out of line. It was insulting, it was rude, it was condescending.

Then she had the nerve to text the family groupchat whining that we "treat her like a punching bag" and it had to stop. And not to call back unless we could "treat her with respect."

So I decided I'm not calling her. She can call me if it's really important, and then she can fucking apologize and admit she violated about a dozen different boundaries, like a fucking adult.

I didn't deserve to be talked to like that by her and she needs to start treating me like a thirty year old. If HER mom, my grandma, had insinuated she knew my mom's body better than she did, she would be SEETHING.

[wickedscribbles]

whoever makes my baby cry (is gonna lose some teeth tonight) ch. 4 (final)

Masterlist

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch.3

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: smut, fluff, pet names, biting, rimming, enthusiastic consent, multiple orgasms, messy sex, power bottom Logan, top Wade, teasing/banter, dirty talk, anal sex, mild genderplay

Word Count: 5K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

Wade has him on his back so fast the world tilts.

Logan’s willing to go where he wants, especially if that place is upside down on their mattress. He lands hard enough to bounce a little, huffing out a laugh, the sound ending in a pleased hum as Wade goes right back to kissing him. He wraps his legs around Wade’s waist, cups his face in his hands, wanting to touch him everywhere. This is the kind of prelude to sex that leaves him breathless; not too fast, not too slow, the anticipation of it all clinging to their skin like static.

Above him, Wade can’t seem to decide if he wants to keep kissing him – rough and enthusiastic – or talk about everything that's coming next.

“God, you looked so fucking hot punching that walking protozoa –” he gasps the words right into Logan’s mouth, and Logan can only grin back, chasing Wade’s lips for more. “Love it when you’re mean like that –”

“Oh, do you?”

“You know I do, smartass,” Wade says, his tone and his face so full of love that he might as well have called him angel. His mouth travels to the sensitive place under Logan’s jaw, teasing with teeth. “Will you tear someone in half for me next time? Will you tear me in half?”

Logan can’t stop fucking smiling. Even as he arches up and into the kisses tracing along the line of his throat, he’s smiling, feeling floaty and stupid and turned on.

“Not in the apartment, ya freak,” he manages.

He isn’t deterred. “Your freak,” Wade says. “And no, I'd wait til we took a little trip out to the woods like you want.”

“I'd like that.”

“Tearing me in half?” Wade's mouth pauses, hot and wet, at Logan's collarbone to ask the question.

“Takin’ a trip,” Logan corrects, panting a little now. Squirming for more attention, his cock hard trapped between their bodies.

“Oh, okay, okay. So we can screw in the woods without having to worry about staining the sheets? And play out the ‘fucking a lumberjack’ fantasy one of us may or may not be harboring?”

Logan raises an eyebrow at the lumberjack bit, but chooses to say nothing. Hey, whatever floats his boat. God knows they’ve done far stranger things.

“Sure. Or fuckin’ up the carpet. Been a minute since we had a real rollaround.”

Wade hums his agreement at that, trailing a delicate hand down the length of Logan’s bicep, then his forearm, until their fingertips are touching. Logan’s fingers twitch when he touches them, their hands intertwining. Willingly, he lets Wade bring his hand to his mouth – knows instantly what he wants him to do. He opens his mouth and takes Wade’s fingers on his tongue.

“Good boy,” Wade breathes, and Logan can feel himself leaking in his boxers, dripping a spot against the cotton. He pants out a shaky sort of noise in answer, maybe an agreement or disagreement to the praise, he doesn't know, can’t think. “Yeah, you know just what to do, don’t you?”

His lips close around what's in his mouth, tight, sucking at them just like he'd sucked Wade's cock this morning. Getting them sloppy, dribbling with spit, some of it stringing out of his mouth and into his facial hair. There are still days when they're in too big of a damn hurry to care, but this foreplay is erotic on its own, too.

For a while, they linger suspended in that moment, Wade straddling his lap and watching with fascinated eyes as his fingers move slowly in and out of Logan's mouth. They look at each other, into each other, long past the shyness.

The way Wade looks at him still makes Logan burn, two parts of him trying to run away from one another. It's nice to be wanted. It's terrifying to be wanted. He thinks that the fear of ruining this is getting quieter, though. He hopes.

“Wanna try something,” Wade says all at once, his face brightening with the type of mischief Logan knows only too well. “Here – lift up for a minute –”

Letting Wade’s fingers slide out of his mouth, he does as he's told, spreading his legs a little wider as Wade reaches behind them for one of the pillows. He places it just underneath Logan's hips, turning his attention back to his naked torso, raining kisses on his body.

“Need these off,” Wade murmurs, almost to himself, tugging at Logan's boxers. Breathing shakily, he obliges him, kicking them to the floor. His cock springs up as Wade sheds him pajamas as well, resting heavy above his abdomen in anticipation. He's fucking restless for something, anything, a flurry of past positions floating past his eyes like a slideshow.

For a few seconds, Logan thinks it's his turn to get sucked off, and he's definitely not complaining. Wade lavishes attention on the meeting of his hip and thigh, biting in just the right way to make Logan jump, smirking to himself when he earns an arch off the mattress for more. Logan's palm rests on his head, encouraging. Trusting.

But he bypasses Logan's cock like it's not there. Instead, he trails past, licking a stripe down his balls, pressing his scarred palms to Logan's thighs to spread them wider, and – oh. Oh okay. Wade’s hot breath hesitates over his hole for only an instant before his tongue is tracing the most delicate circles.

“F-fuck!”

Logan squirms at the unexpected sensation, curling his toes. He feels Wade's hands twitch where they rest on his inner thighs, and looks down to see him looking back.

“Okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, s’good, I just didn't know –” Logan answers, far too quickly. He blinks, a lot, in an effort to remember how to put one word in front of the other. “You can keep going. If you want.”

“If I want,” Wade repeats wryly. “Yeah, okay, champ.”

Only capable of swallowing hard in response, Logan lets his head fall back against the mattress, his whole body tense with the thought of what's going to happen next. He feels Wade's breath back at his hole, and God, it's so sensitive there, his tongue lapping at him as he spreads his legs further.

It's not quite like anything he's felt before. It's good.

“Relax,” comes Wade's voice, light with amusement before his fucking tongue goes right back to Logan's ass. His knee gets pushed up, opening him like an old paperback.

He's aware that his chest is rising and falling and rising and falling, a rapid in and out. The little circles that Wade traces with his tongue shift into broader strokes, something deeper. Logan moans with the change, thrusting up into nothing.

“Feels so fuckin’ good, Red,” he says softly, his voice coming out smaller than he thought it would. “I don’t, I haven’t –n-never –”

He’s aware that he doesn’t make any sense, but Wade doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it encourages him, a low hum drawn from the other man’s throat as he pulls away to look at him. His eyes are massive between the vee of Logan’s legs.

“Never ever? Am I actually taking a sweet, precious piece of your virginity?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan whines. “Keep going.”

Wade ducks back down, but not before babbling something about best day of his life and definitely going on Tumblr (and it had better not).

He can’t wait anymore for Wade to touch him, fuck him, whatever he’d planned to add to the mix. Getting eaten out is such a tease but he needs more and he needs it now. Logan grasps his cock, already slippery with pre-come, and starts a rhythm that has his head swimming immediately.

With a hiss, Wade digs his nails into the flesh of his thighs, groaning into him. Logan has a feeling that if his mouth were free to say something, he’d be giving him a string of encouragement. Shit, even imagining what Wade would be saying is enough to turn him on.

Moaning out something that strongly resembles Wade’s name buried in a sea of praise, Logan grinds back on his face, chasing more, so so so close.

That’s it, baby, the Wade in his head says. Actual Wade is panting hard against his ass now, getting sloppy. Come for me. Know you want to. Pretty pretty please.

Logan’s eyes roll back. He comes in frenetic bursts all over Wade’s face and shoulder, vaguely aware that now he has pulled away to praise him, kissing up and down Logan's thigh to watch the whole show. Logan's hands scrabble in the sheets, some pathetic little sound coming out of his throat.

“Peanut, Jesus fucking Christ…”

He says something like ungh in answer, looking down at Wade covered in his come. He is so hot with that satisfied smirk on his face, it’s ridiculous. And then he takes a finger and drags it across the side of his face, where there’s a streak of Logan’s spend, and pops it into his mouth.

Fuck, okay.

Barely done from their first round, Logan’s cock twitches again.

“Got me good, Pollock,” Wade comments, still wearing that crooked grin that makes his heart do shit that Logan would worry about if he didn’t know it was always healing. “You liked that, huh?”

It takes a lot to resist the urge to say no shit, but Logan manages. Instead, he runs his hand up and down Wade’s cheek, feeling his spend there all sticky, his mind swimming with sex-drunk praise (you’resofuckingprettywantyousobadithurts).

“Gonna sit on your dick now,” he says instead, and Wade backs off of him fast to allow that to happen.

Their places swapped, Logan palms at Wade’s cock tenderly, not missing the way Wade’s lips part on a soft little ah of need. Wade’s dick is damn near perfect, fulfilling every stupid fantasy Logan had before he worked up the guts to come knocking on his door and do something about it. Bottoming out on Wade still stretches him out so full and delicious, turns him dumb in a way that topping him doesn’t – though he won't say no to either.

He lifts his hips, situating Wade underneath him, when he sees two fingers trailing up his chest.

“Sure you’re wet enough?” Wade teases. “Could finger you a little more, just to be safe.”

Fingertips land on Logan’s mouth, and oh, does this man know how to push his luck. Faking a scowl, Logan takes Wade’s middle finger playfully between his teeth and bites down hard, breaking skin and crushing bone. Blood wells up all at once, his mouth full of copper, and Wade gasps in delight as his cock twitches against Logan’s inner thigh.

“There’s my kitty cat,” he praises, grinning like floodlights. Though broken, his finger is still hanging on after he pulls it away. “Aww, you didn't bite it off this time.”

“‘M feelin’ generous.”

“God!” Wade laughs as Logan guides himself down, trailing off halfway through whatever quip he’d cooked up. He grabs Logan's thighs, moaning at the sensation. “Fuck, princess, you’re still so fuckin’ tight –”

As Logan seats himself fully, he can tell that Wade’s already regretting not being on top. His mouth is doing that cute little scrunch thing it does when he gets impatient. But Logan loves seeing Wade all desperate, too horny to think straight, begging to fuck him or be fucked. If Logan weren’t just as desperate half the time, he’d make Wade wait ages for what he wants. Maybe someday they’ll cool down enough to try that.

Maybe.

Because despite having already come once already, Logan’s not in much better shape. Getting eaten out had eased the way for Wade inside him, but the stretch is still toeing the edge of pain and bliss. He knows as soon as they move, it’ll melt nicely into the latter.

“Hurry up and fuck me,” Wade says, pouting. He’s already breathless, his face flushed, gripping Logan’s thighs so hard that they’re bruising and healing and bruising again in a continuous cycle. It’s so hot. “Please please please, you’re so tight, I’m not gonna last, please.”

If that doesn’t light Logan up from the inside out, nothing will.

Pausing only to give him a yeah, okay, Logan grinds his hips down hard. Wade’s answering whine is like magic, high and keening, something that Logan’s going to replay in his mind over and over like the mixtapes high schoolers used to make for each other to flirt. He could probably pick out each individual note, tell you the crescendo, see the arc of it burned on the inside of his eyelids.

Wade looks like a porn star underneath him, mouth hanging open, eyes unfocused, hips meeting Logan’s perfectly every – fucking – time. Logan’s cock is flushed and hard between them again, slapping skin with every thrust.

“Logan,” Wade moans out.

Logan’s thrusts get just a little harder, a little faster. That tight tight sensation of climax sits somewhere in the bottom of his stomach, in reach if he worked for it, but he’s nowhere as close as Wade is. Wade’s delirious with it, right there sitting on the brink, and Logan feels like he’s on fire with how sexy he finds the man.

“Yeah?” Logan purrs back.

“So fuckin’ close, right there, gonna come –”

“I can tell.”

Later, Wade will give him shit for being such a tease – and tell him how hot it was. But for now, Logan pins both of Wade’s wrists in place, knowing he’ll try to cover his face. He wants to watch the whole show, not just the trailer. He lets his fingers trace through the other man’s, a part of him loving the added intimacy, and greedily takes in every second of Wade coming inside him.

“Lo-ogan, ah, shit shit shit –!”

Wade rolls his hips up slow and deep as he comes, head thrown back, filling Logan with warmth. Logan honest-to-God shivers, knowing his cock is drooling all over Wade’s stomach just from watching him. Playing with him a little, Logan gently thrusts down, stimulating him through the aftershocks just to watch him gasp and jolt. The little sounds he makes after coming, all fucked-out and satiated, are right up there for Logan with the usual sounds of sex.

(Huh. Maybe he likes Wade’s voice even more than he thought.)

Wade's face is still flushed when he can make eye contact again, and Logan only smiles at him, pleased with himself.

“No fair,” Wade grumbles.

Logan leans down to kiss him, bumping their foreheads together. They’re both covered in a fine sheen of sweat, among other things, and he lingers there to get Wade to kiss him back nice and slow. At this point, he really does feel drunk, heavy-limbed and satisfied without the theoretical liver damage.

“Don’t see what’s unfair about it,” Logan replies once they’ve broken away again. “Just gave me a damn good show on top of a phenomenal fuck. If I could reach my wallet right now, I’d tip ya.”

“Peanut, I swear on Fox Studio’s grave, if you keep pulling this kind of dialogue out of nowhere I’m going to have a stroke.” Wade turns to glare at a random corner of the room. “And you had better watch it. We did not talk about this before the chapter started.”

Threats to no one aside, Logan just shakes his head, unfazed. Something makes him want to keep talking, and he’s not sure if it’s how loose and warm his body feels, or the day they’ve had, or a combination of both.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you come,” he confesses, and Wade looks up at him with what can only be described as a mix of shock and horror.

“Oooookay, that’s enough for you, big guy –”

Wade struggles to get out from underneath him, attempting to lift his hips, but it’s no use. Logan sees it coming and shifts his weight more fully onto the mattress, effectively trapping him in place.

“Nope,” he says, unable to keep from sounding a little smug. “Think I’m gonna set my big adamantium ass right here until you learn to take a compliment.”

“Yeah? And what if I shoot my way out?”

It doesn’t surprise Logan in the slightest when Wade pulls the .45 from behind the headboard and aims it between his eyes. It does, however, annoy him. He sinks down further, aware that Wade’s gone soft, come slipping loose in a steady stream between their bodies onto the sheets.

“Rhonda’s gonna be pissed if she hears a gunshot, you know that. Slap us with another fee for damages, and I sure as shit ain’t coverin’ it just because you don’t want to hear how goddamn good you look.”

Wade’s finger plays with the trigger, stroking it as if in thought. His mouth scrunches. In all honesty, Logan wouldn’t mind a shot or two – it’s been a while since he’s taken one, and he knows Wade wouldn’t get him anywhere awful. They like each other well enough to spare major head wounds now, and that’s typically the only unspoken rule.

But to his surprise, Wade puts the gun back where he’d stashed it, flopping his head back on the pillows with a dramatic sigh.

“Fine, you monumental pain in my ass. What else do you want to tell me that’s so important?”

Logan pauses a moment, amused. He wasn’t quite sure he’d get this far. Half of him pictured this ending in an all-out bloodbath – the kind they’d have to replace the sheets and the carpet for. Maybe even have to paint the walls again. God, he wishes they didn’t live in a fucking apartment – or the city.

“You’re hot as hell, Wade,” he starts. Wade’s mouth is very scrunched, eyebrows drawn down in a similar pout. He looks like he’d rather be sitting on a stick of lit dynamite than listening to this. “What, you didn’t think I thought that? When we’ve been fuckin’ each other senseless for this long?”

“Just thought maybe I had a magic dick,” Wade mutters.

“Hah. Never said you don’t.”

Logan finally lets Wade’s cock slip out of him entirely, crawling up until his mouth is inches from Wade’s. The proximity makes the other man’s eyes dilate, breath catching, and Logan could live off of the thick smell of sweat and lust and come they’ve created in this room together.

He kisses Wade, quick, just a taste, and leaves him wanting more.

“You’re fuckin’ funny.”

Another kiss, this time a little deeper, Wade reaching up for him with half a grin on his face. He’s getting hard again – Logan can feel it against the muscles of his abdomen. The next time Wade's mouth collides with his, he brings teeth, taking Logan's bottom lip and pulling hard enough to make him moan.

“You’re – wild – to watch in a fight. Sweet – to the people you care about.”

They’re making out in earnest now, Logan gasping to get the words out as Wade drinks him up.

“You –uh!”

Caught off guard, Logan doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence as Wade flips him on his side. Nose to nose with one another now, he lets Wade continue his desperate barrage of kisses, hooking an arm around Logan’s neck. Their stiff cocks rub together, tantalizing friction, and Wade trails his lips to Logan’s ear.

“You like me all that much, get on your hands and knees.”

His voice is low and sultry in a way that lets Logan know that they’re far from done. Laughing softly, Logan does as he asks, Wade moving around him as if they’re different parts of the same body. Planting his palms on the mattress, he closes his eyes in anticipation. Wade slides his cock against his ass, the briefest tease, before placing himself at his entrance.

He doesn't waste time pushing back inside. Logan's body takes him easily, a breathless sound of excitement leaving him as Wade’s hands come to settle on his hips. Though he can't see Wade's face, he can feel the shift in energy – he can hear Wade's heart pumping fast, sense his heightened enthusiasm.

Settled inside Logan up to the hilt, Wade shifts his hips in a lazy figure eight.

“You ready?”

Logan nods, his uh-huh coming out like a groan of pleasure. He stares down at his own spread hands, the ruined sheets, biting his lip as Wade continues to tease him.

It doesn't last long. Less than a second passes between his confirmation and Wade’s first sharp thrust, bullying Logan forward before he can get his bearings. Wade wastes no time in setting a punishing rhythm, leaving him helpless to do anything but arch back into what he's getting.

He pants and moans every time Wade comes close to nailing that spot, feeling his claws start to slip out bit by bit. Their mattress topper is in bits and pieces under the cover of the sheet, more foam chunks than anything now, and he's about to make it a lot worse. Logan lets himself sink claws deep into the padding, leaning his face forward into the pillows to muffle the most embarrassing of the noises he's making.

Wade isn't letting him get away that easily.

“That's my fucking big boy,” he breathes, and Logan lights up with a blush bright enough to color his fucking chest. His cock jumps. “Take me so well every time, don't ya? Every – fuckin' – inch?”

Oh god oh fuck.

“Wade,” he says into the pillows, practically mewling out the word. Latched into the mattress with his claws anchoring him in place as Wade nails that incredible place right there oh fuck oh Christ. “Hah, fuck, you gotta slow down, or – I –”

“Or what, sweetheart?”

A clever hand reaches around to jerk Logan's cock, nice and deep the way he needs it, and Logan moans so deep in his throat it comes out more like a growl. Wade matches his thrusts in time, slower now but fuller, getting Logan to cry out louder than he'd ever admit he gets.

“You gotta slow down, Red,” Logan manages to repeat, but he already knows it's no use. “Gotta s-slow down, oh f-fuck!”

He comes much harder than he thought he would, hissing out a string of swears into the poor abused mattress. Coating the sheets below him, watching as some dribbles onto his thigh. Wade pushes his hips higher, fucking him through it like it's easy, his fingers brushing soothing circles as Logan shivers and spills and pants.

His whole body tingles with that sensitive sensation he's come to equate with powerfully good sex, with a certain look in Wade's eyes or a tone in his voice. He's going to feel this later, the honey-hum ache lingering in every muscle, but it's more than worth it.

“Flip over,” Logan insists after the moment has passed. “Wanna watch you come again.”

A cocky tsk from behind him catches Logan off guard. A gentle hand lands on the curve of his ass. Loving.

“Aw, peanut. Baby. Who said you were done?” Wade’s voice comes out light and cheerful, but they both know what the undercurrent holds.

Yeah, he's definitely in his bossy little top mood now, Logan thinks. Not that he doesn't find it incredibly hot. But it's also fun to be a bit of a brat every once and a while.

“Don't think I can,” he tries, sliding his claws out of the mattress but settling firmly. “C'mon, Wade. Fuck me ‘til you finish.” Logan hesitates. “Please?”

An equally long pause. He can almost hear Wade thinking.

“Nahhh,” he decides. “You can do one more for me, then I'll fill you up until you fucking drip.”

This time, the pointed gap in the air is for Logan to really say no, use a safe word, if he needs to. And he definitely doesn't need to, doesn't want to. Besides, he's never been one to back away from a challenge, especially if it's Wade who's handing it out.

“Yes, sir,” Logan says mockingly, lifting his ass back up in the air.

He hears Wade make a strangled little noise of want before gripping his ass tight.

“Good fucking girl,” he growls, pushing Logan down until he's flat on his stomach on the bed.

Logan’s pretty sure he whines at that. It’s hard to tell anymore.

To say that the sheets are saturated in come would be an understatement at this point, but Logan can't focus on that as much as he's focusing on getting hard again, Wade’s teeth sinking deep into the side of his neck. The pain is nothing compared to the pleasure, a drop of water in the ocean – and Logan’s fucking dying of thirst.

He breaks the skin. Granted, it takes a little more effort for him to do it than it does for Logan, but he doesn’t mind the extra gnashing around. Chewing on his neck like it’s a goddamned squeaky toy. He’s flattered by it, in a way, that Wade would do all that just to spill blood for sex.

Wade’s tongue laps at the ring of blood he’s produced as he presses into his ass again, slow, and Logan can tell that he’s trying to hold back. To really spoil him with this extra orgasm, instead of keeping it all tit for tat. He doesn’t know why – he’ll pester him later about it and only get ‘cause I love you and I wanted to, you fuckin’ beefslab of a man, in answer.

But right now, Wade’s hot, panting mouth trails to Logan’s ear, and his teeth pull on the lobe, hard. Logan bares his neck further with a near silent intake of breath, wordless permission, and that’s all that Wade needs. Without further ado, Wade’s teeth seize around the loose cartilage and bite, ripping it off in a gush of blood.

“Fuck –!” Logan hisses, feeling the warmth of it trickle down on the sheets near his face.

“I’m trying my best, dollface,” Wade says sweetly in reply. Logan wishes he could see him. “You have no idea how good you look like that, all spread out like a two dollar whore on nickel night. Really putting my stamina to the test.”

He sighs, moving his hips so gently he may as well not be moving them at all. Despite insisting that Wade come a final time so that they could be finished with the whole romp, Logan finds himself growing impatient. There’s blood in it for him now, literally, and his cock is throbbing where it’s trapped against his stomach and the bed.

“But when a Scout makes a promise, they keep a promise. Right?”

“I promise you’re a pain in my ass,” Logan huffs. “Wade, c’mon, if you’re gonna fuck me then fuck me, don’t just –”

The words screw around are a little lost in the sudden snapping of Wade’s hips. Logan gasps instead, taken off guard by the instant ferocity of it. One of Wade’s hands grips a fistful of Logan’s hair, rough, incredible, while the other palm stays firm at his hip, holding them both in place.

“What were you saying, honey badger?” Though the words are innocent, Wade’s voice hits his (regenerating) ear in a mocking growl, all exertion.

Logan can’t even form a fucking sentence, let alone a smartass response. Wade knows him well enough, is smart enough to know exactly where his prostate is, how deep to press and for how long. He can play his body like an instrument few have taken the time to learn, let alone master.

Sinking his claws back into the mattress, scrabbling for any sort of purchase, Logan presses his face into the pillows with a desperate sound. He wants to tell Wade how good it feels, that he’s nailing his prostate just right, stirring up a heat inside of him that no one’s ever quite hit before, so good he wants to sob, but all he can do is lie there ass up and gasp out with every thrust. He tries to match Wade’s pace, hold the rhythm.

“Am I nailing your g-spot, baby?” Wade purrs, and something like scandal and delight war for attention in Logan’s mind. “Yeah, I feel you, pussy so fuckin’ tight.”

“Wade, o-oh Christ,” he says, breath hitching. Tears sting the corners of his eyes and he’s torn between so many points of pleasure and his cock is gliding as Wade pushes him forward, he’s going to come again, just as Wade had said he would – “ – Wade, Wade, Wade –”

He’s still chanting Wade’s name, voice rising an octave or so, as orgasm hits him like a goddamn train. The warmth of it coats his belly and chest, his face muffled deep into the pillows – tears and spit dampening the material. He arches back hard as Wade thrusts a handful of times to finish not long behind him.

“Fuck,” Wade says under his breath. “Kitty cat, oh fuck yes.”

The quiet that falls after, only their combined breath, is so deep and peaceful that Logan passes out almost right away. He isn’t sure how long Wade lets him sleep – only that he wakes up to his shoulder being shaken gently, Wade standing beside the bed with a fond smirk on his face.

“You’re gonna be stuck to the bed if you stay there like that, cowboy,” he tells him, offering a hand to help him up. “C’mon. Let’s get clean.”

Logan makes a grumpy sort of sound, too comfortable to want to move. “Only if we get to sleep all day tomorrow.”

Wade’s face brightens at the idea. “Fuck yeah – pile all the blankets on the couch and order takeout?”

It sounds like a dream come true.

“Yeah.”

Logan takes his hand. Once they’re clean, with the sheets and blankets replaced, it’s the deepest and most comfortable sleep of his life.

[keepmycandleburning]

There's such a difference between the way Bellatrix talks to Voldemort vs the way the other Death Eaters talk to him.

She starts every single one of the conversations they have. They have five total direct interactions: in the Ministry, at the meeting at Malfoy Manor, in the Forbidden Forest before Harry appears, in the Forbidden Forest after Voldemort falls over, and after they come out of the Forest and Neville throws himself at Voldemort. In three of these five (Ministry, first and second time she tries to interact with him in the Forbidden Forest), Voldemort tells her to stop talking to him. At the meeting he mocks and manipulates her, and at the Battle of Hogwarts he responds with four words. These are not particularly unusual reactions for Voldemort; he tells multiple people to stop talking to him including Wormtail in GoF Ch 1, Nott in GoF Ch 33, and Yaxley in DH 1.

Also notably, Bellatrix uses one of his titles every single time she addresses him. Other Death Eaters who have a similar amount of lines like Lucius, Wormtail, and Snape skip the title on occasion. Bellatrix never drops this respect. (DEs who only have one interaction/conversation with him tend to do it every time.)

With all the other Death Eaters besides Bellatrix, the way Voldemort speaks to them makes sense with the additional information we know about that person and the relationship they have. With Bellatrix, there is a huge misalignment with the way we see them directly interact and the additional information we have about them. Voldemort tells Bellatrix to stop talking over half the time she talks to him publicly, yet he has given her a piece of his soul. He tells her 'be quiet' and then immediately follows it up with a nickname we only see her family call her. She fails him and he immediately saves her anyway—which I have always read as him physically reappearing after possessing Harry and therefore being seen by multiple Ministry officials in order to do so.

Bellatrix speaks critically of Voldemort and his judgement to her sister; when there's something else they're not supposed to say (talking about the plan with Draco) it gets acknowledged by the characters multiple times that they're misbehaving, yet Narcissa doesn't question Bellatrix making this very bold and actually rather blasphemous statement. Snape brings up Voldemort multiple times to mock Bellatrix, and she cuts herself off mid-sentence multiple times ('his most precious—' and 'he...lately we...') from speaking about it. She says he shares 'everything' with her and yet will not say what that is (his most precious what?). Bellatrix confidently speaks for the absent Voldemort at Malfoy Manor, telling Greyback she's 'sure' the Dark Lord will be alright with him taking Hermione. She is more willing to speak for him than she is to speak of what relationship they have privately.

When the cup is stolen and he loses his temper and is killing everyone in the room, he notes where she is and that she's leaving. She places herself in his close physical proximity—almost immediately after the cup was stolen from her vault—in public and he allows it. She talks to him with so much affection that even Harry can note it with his eyes closed, and he declines it and immediately moves on. Her comfort level to physically touch him is so high that she continues trying to do so after he tells her to stop. Her death is the third time he experiences a major loss in a matter of hours (cup, Nagini) and the third time he screams, but the one and only time he loses control of his magic (if he was consciously capable of sending all three of those people flying through the air, he would have done it already).

Compare Bellatrix continuing to try to physically touch Voldemort after he directly tells her to stop to Rookwood cowering on the floor and staying in a partial bow when Voldemort tells him to stand up, or Bellatrix initiating every single conversation she has with Voldemort to Draco being so afraid to speak a word to him that he does not talk at all and just shakes his head or does nothing. Rookwood is clearly terrified that Voldemort is going to physically hurt him for simply providing him information that will upset him, while Bellatrix is so sure Voldemort will not hurt her—again immediately after the cup is stolen—that she sits next to him, talks to him multiple times, and touches him. Bellatrix leans toward him, for mere words can't demonstrate her longing for closeness, and the Malfoys won't even make eye contact.

There's a major disconnect with what they're directly saying and the whole picture. These are two people who very clearly have on off-screen relationship that is substantially different from their on-screen relationship. One that Bellatrix believes she needs to keep private even from other Death Eaters. One that has caused her to believe she has the authority to speak in his place when he's not there. One that has led Bellatrix to believe it is alright for her to initiate conversations with him, to be physically close to him, to touch him. One that has given her some reason to believe she should—even, perhaps, that he wants or needs her to—continue to try to touch him after he declines it.

On-screen he places her halfway down the table, off-screen he gives her his soul to keep safe. Off-screen he's telling her she's his most loyal, his most faithful, he's sharing everything with her, while on-screen he tells her 'that will do.'

The word 'lover,' while it's used in the series a handful of times in the context of 'Mudblood-lover' or 'cat lover,' is used in the context of an object of one's affection once and only once.

[rrosamariaa]

I've been thinking a lot about a remus/sirius Ministry of Magic office AU..

Often I see ppl talking about what would Sirius work with if there wasn't a war going on and he could just live his life in peace and one of my favorite headcanons is that he would be an 'Unspeakable'. Those are the ppl that work in the department of mysteries, that by itself is one of coolest things in the wizarding world, according to me. The department of mysteries is responsible for confidential studies of death, love, time etc (A lot of crazy things that honestly no one should have to mess with but obvs they do anyways...) It's high-level security place, no one besides the researchers are allowed in those chambers. No one even knows who are those researchers and what they do, actually.

Buut, its sirius we are talking about and the guy is a genius but also can be pretty reckless and, in this specific scenario, I think he would be a borderline "crazy scientist" so. He fucks up down the line. I don't know what he does, exactly, but it's something that put his and others researchers' lives at risk. Bc of that, he is sent to work in a waaay more mundane department: Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. It's a cool department!! Remember that first poa scene where harry turns aunt marge into a balloon etc? well those are the guys who they call to fix that. They even have a Obliviators division, responsible for changing Muggles' memory in case they are exposed to accidental magic. Those guys are full of themselves and annoying as hell, btw.

and I see Sirius being sent there, after The Accident. It's cool in theory, but most of the time it's puuuure paperwork and it bores sirius to no end.

well, guess who works there as well. Our guy, Remus j. lupin.

Remus isn't one to do field work so he mostly works in the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee division (god I love those long ass names). Basically he comes up with stuff to excuse magic happening in the muggle world etc. like when peter killed a bunch of muggles and the muggle paper said it was a "big gas explosion". Pure paperwork. Boring as hell.

Anyway, Sirius turns up there out of nowhere and he is the office sweetheart. It fucking boggles remus mind, like. Sirius always goes to the office parties and seems to be friends with everyone but no one knows anything about this guy. He just gets there, a almost 30 yo with a bunch of obscure work experience and no one knows what he did before that, who his family is, where he is from and how the hell does he knows the stuff that he knows.

Sirius is great at field work, he mostly works directly in the Obliviators division and remus is really great with the paperwork stuff sooo they get paired up a lot. At first, they are a bit annoyed by each other (my fav wolfstar flavor). It's funny because they actually agree with almost everything but they just approach things veeery differently and so they are bickering all the damn time. And Sirius is a Certified Little Shit™ and is constantly doing things that drives remus a bit crazy. Once they had a case of a water fountain exploding bc two wizards were fighting in a public park and instead of obliviating the muggles into believing it was only a piping problem or whatever, he went out of his way to turn it into a sort of elaborate flash mob that went viral on tiktok. Remus spent the night awake documenting everything. He wanted to strangle sirius that day.

between late nights working and lots of crazy field work (thanks to sirius) those two end up getting closer and closer. Remus still thinks Sirius is a bit insane, but now in a I-want-you-to-fuck-me-into-this-desk type way. Sirius, on the other hand, doesn't let go of his previous research. I think that back then he would, specifically, study and experiment a lot with Love, in special familial love (yep.) The thing about those confidential dept. of mysteries' experiments is that they can be pretty... unethical. And that's the break point of their story: Remus finding out about Sirius research and finally wondering at what lengths did sirius went to understand something as complicated as Love and what the fuck he did to get banished from the department back then, and worse: if he ever used remus in those experiments. and even more worse: The fact that remus doesn't stop loving him even if he did.

A last fun fact is that they, at one point, would have an inside joke about that "MIB: man in black" movie, they watched it together one late night and sirius kept referencing it when he went to obliviate muggles and remus thought it was the funniest silliest thing ever

[saintsbuffy]

You’re an angel, i’m a dog.

Pairing: Lucanis/Rook Lucanis/Rook/Spite

TW: injury detail, heavy sexual references, abuse, grief, suicidal idolisation, implied non con, spite being a freak, possession, substances.

Word count: around 5000

Chapter: 2/?

2 - DEVIL LIKE ME

— Rook is injured, Lucanis tries to help.

Lucanis - Bold

Spite - Italics

We've been waiting for this haven't we.

Spites familiar voice echos in Lucanis's head, the feral creatures nails claw his mind as the shadow figure takes form beside him.

Rook tentatively approaches as Lucanis glances around the room before pulling over a large crate for him to sit on and gesturing for Rook to take the armchair opposite him. Even though the crate is slightly too small for him and a few inches shorter than the chair it manages to hold his weight and leaves him eye level with her.

She's watching him and he moves the equipment to one side, careful to pick up any glass shards as he piles tubes and viles into a corner and stacks the books clearing the space between them. His face remains a mask of ease but she can't help but notice the small bead of sweat that forms at his brow. When was the last time he had hosted a girl in his room? He couldn't remember. Come to think of it, when was the last time Lucanis had hosted anyone in his room?

Lucanis shifts in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his arms. He had always been bad at making small talk but now he felt like he'd forgotten how to speak entirely. After a moment the silence is broken by a low humming noise, some variation of a song his grandmother would sing to him many years ago. The noise fades in and out but Rook dosent react, Lucanis is the only one who can hear it.

Quiet.

The girl is studying he realises. Head cocked to one side she watches how he moves and breathes, her guard his up, her discomfort increasing and yet she dosent make a move to leave.

"So..." Rook rests her arms on the oversized chair, one knee crossed other the other, fingers tapping on the edge. "Are you going to tell me how you did that thing out there." She raises her hand and seems to be trying to project her power but all he sees is empty air.

He had felt her magic approaching of course, the thrum of power had given him plenty of warning. The spell she had encountered had taken almost a decade to perfect, he had spent countless hours working on it with his Cousin. The barrier could be locked to one room and only lasted as long as the creator was present. It was supposed to keep out any magic users that didn't possess the Dellamorte bloodline. Clearly it was faulty if Rook had gotten through. He'd have to ask Illario about that when he next saw him.

"I am not entirely sure." Lucanis takes in the way her eyes waver, she doesn't seem annoyed that the spell had managed to stuff her magic but curious, perhaps slightly hopeful? "I do not use many spells, my specialities lie more in weapons and potions. My cousin helped with this one, you might have seen him around.”

She can see that from the display on his desk to the objects that fill his room and line the shelves, a few swords hanging on rusty nails that stick out of the stone.

"Ah, the handsome one." Rook recalls, as he shoots her an unamused look. "So could you, create a spell or a potion to stop it?"

"Why would you want to stop it?" He queries watching the way her hand goes to a chain around her neck, the small opaque crystal attached to it resting just between her breasts, Lucanis moves his eyes away quickly. His gaze goes back to her face then to the wall behind her as he avoids her eye contact.

He had seen the necklace before but had never gotten a good view of it, in fact he could not recall a time he seen her without it. No bigger than a marble, the edges jagged but dull enough to not cut into her skin. Whatever it was it meant something to her. Another piece of the puzzle.

"I mean, to help control it. Like the way your daggers seem to hold power, I can't have another mission go sideways because of me." A half truth.

He does not have to look her in the eyes to know that's not exactly what she meant.

"Perhaps you should ask Emmrich about that kind of stuff, maybe he could make you some sort of object to hone your energy."

In his time here Lucanis had seen the man do incredible things with his gifts, he had even come to him for help occasionally to identify any objects found whilst out on missions.

"I don't think that would work." Her lips pull into a grimace as she continues to fiddle with the silver chain. "And besides i'm not really sure how to feel about the old man, he frightens me a bit." Rook was both equal parts unsettled and intrigued by the man and his skeletal companion.

Lucanis raises an eyebrow but lets her talk.

"Don't tell him I said that though, you two are friends right?"

She recalls the few times she had watched Lucanis enjoying himself over dinner and drinks, in the library studying whatever it was he was searching for. Out of everyone here the two men seemed to click, both quiet and strange in their own way.

"I do not know him that well." Lucanis does not have friends. He is here to complete his contract and keep his home safe, that’s all.

Misunderstanding his blunt reply as sarcasm, Rook laughs. It's muffled by a hand over her mouth.

His chest tightens, wondering what it would sound like to hear a full true laugh from her. He wanted to find out. There was no question that Rook was attractive. Her elven features mixed the human way she spoke and carried herself made most people find her off putting. She tried to make herself invisible, had spent her first weeks at the Lighthouse brushing off everyone's attempts of inclusion but Lucanis had seen the way she made their companions laugh without even trying, the way her smile lit up a room. She didn't even have to try, he couldn't stand it.

Had the room always felt this small? Of course it had he was sleeping in a dammed storage closet for gods sake.

The desire that coiled low in his stomach was not as easy to ignore now as it was when he'd first laid eyes on her. All it takes is one moment of wanting and a mirror image of Lucanis draped in shadows manifests through the table. The creature contorts and twits its body, limbs cracking into place until it's crouched beside Rook. Lucanis closes his eyes reaching deep inside to sever that tie between man and demon but it's already started to knot. The door a-jar.

Lucanis grits his teeth as Spite inspects her, but the more he tries to shut him out the more the demon takes form. His discomfort and Rook's distraction only seems to make Spite more excited as it moves from side to side head twisting like a starved animal about to feast.

I can see why you're so fascinated by her. Such a pretty little thing.

Spites hand is less than an inch away from caressing Rook's cheek, hand going, lower, lower, until it comes to rest just below where Lucanis can't see under the table. Lucanis lets out a disgruntled cough, clearing his throat then scoots his crate back from table.

Spite's eyes snap up at him, and it lets out a laugh the look of hunger fading into a feline grin.

Leave us. Do. Not. Touch her.

You can't make me.

If you're going to stay, be quiet and behave.

Spite lets out a whine and glares back at him but obeys hands up in surrender as those glowing eyes ablaze. Some days Lucanis could push him out if he really tried. It would take all his strength and then some but each day was different. Recently the active days seemed to be outweighing the quiet ones. It had taken him years to train his mind against the demon, to build up walls and keep the doors locked. But no matter how badly Lucanis wanted him gone he would always let Spite back in.

There was no one without the other, they depended on each-other for survival. He had wasted almost his entire life trying to find a cure for this curse placed upon him and had come to accept the grim fact that if he wanted to live, Spite would be along for the ride.

Fine, fine. She's all yours. I won't touch her...unless she asks us to.

Lucanis stands to his full height kicking back the crate, he moves through the shadow demon purposefully causing the the smoke to separate. As Spite's form reconstructs itself it watches him as he places two china cups onto the table, both different sizes and designs. Rook lets out a small yawn as she waits, utterly unaware of the domestic currently playing out between the demon and the man as she watches Lucanis. There's a clattering of boxes being moved and rearranged then he lights a flame under what appears to be some sort of homemade stove. After a few minutes he returns with a steaming pot and the smell of coffee fills the small room.

Rook holds out her cup for him as he pours out the dark brown liquid until it reaches the top then fills his own. Now that he's closer she can see the black power under his nails, a cluster of tiny white scars standing out in contrast against his tan skin. She wants to ask about the experiment he was doing when she had interrupted him earlier or pry more about her magic but it's late and she's exhausted. Shes beginning to ajust to the dim candle light, the subtle warmth the flames gave off as the occasional gust of cold air moved past her and the presence of the man sitting opposite her.

Sure, it was a bit awkward and she wasn't sure if he was utterly repulsed by her or just had invited her out of civility but Rook had been searching for a distraction from her restless sleep and she had found one. They didn't need to speak, to fill the silence, just being in each others presence was enough. Maybe it was the adrenaline wearing off that had made her feelings intangible but could swear she felt a strange sort of comfort when she was with him.

Instead of voicing the million questions she yearned to have answered Rook leans back in her seat against the worn velvet and lets the cup warm her hands as raises the it in a thanks then takes a sip. It's bitter and warm, not hot enough to burn but the taste leaves an unwelcome flavour on her tongue. The disgusted expression on her face forms because she can stop it. Lucanis is waiting for her reaction.

"What? No milk or sugar?" Rook's voice sounds strained as she gulps down the liquid mid sentence forcing herself to take another sip.

She'd had coffee before, at the training camp it was valued as much as gold. But that had been a watered down version, reheated and shared between large groups, whatever Lucanis had was strong and fresh. Perhaps this was another thing she'd have to adjust to.

The corner of Lucanis's mouth raises, those full lips forming an almost smile as he watches her drink before trying his own.

"I like it black." He states before refilling his cup.

Rook hides another nervous laugh and gives him in a look that says of course you do. She would not make a very good spy he thinks.

She coughs as she reaches the bottom of the cup wiping a hand over her mouth before placing it down and pushing it slightly away from her. A fake smile of gratitude plastered across her face.

"Thanks for the coffee, and the company."

Lucanis's doesn’t seem to register the comment, his gaze entirely focused on the spot just behind where she sits, eyes occasionally flicking to check that she hadn't moved then back again to not so empty space. The humming song starts again.

There an obviously tension between Rook and Lucanis but neither of them quite wants the moment to end. Lucanis had never been very good at making friends, hell, he struggled enough as it was to keep loose acquaintances. But since he would be staying here for the foreseeable future he might as well try to be civil with her. He couldn't leave now, not when he was so close to finding a cure, not when he and his cousin had a chance at freedom, not when this girl was before him could be the key to everything. Regardless of his intentions Rook had played a part in his rescue and he would be indebted to her until the contract was completed.

I think she's starting you like you. Thats a first, should we tell her what we really are?

I thought you were staying quiet.

How can I when I can hear all your thoughts. I wonder what she would say if you told her what you want to do to her-

Spite seems to forget what it was saying as the creature stops mid taunt, turning in a circle sniffing the air its hollow eyes turn from Lucanis to Rook and back again.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

Lucanis's temple is throbbing as he rubs the palm of his hand against it trying to mask the feeling with more questions. If he could keep her talking for long enough maybe he could gain back enough control for Spite to leave them.

"When you have these nightmares, what do you see. Tell me about them."

Straight to the point then. Rook thinks, it would be easy for her to lie about it but she has nothing to lose.

"You want me to help you or not?" Lucanis barks out when Rook doesn't immediately answer. He doesn't mean for his tone to come out like that, cruel and disingenuous. Every step he makes towards Rook feels like another two back into the dark.

"Sorry-" She starts only to be cut off by his raised hand.

"Stop apologising." He shuts her down. "Just start from the beginning, anything you can remember might help us to better understand your...situation. When did they start."

She should be sorry, she was a Mage who had killed tens, if not hundreds of innocent people. Even if she had been following orders, even if it had been an accident, she had killed, no man would ever mourn one less Mage in the world.

You have more blood on your hands than she does.

I take no pleasure in killing, unlike you.

It’s impolite to lie Lucanis. I know you get off on it as much as I do. Oh look you've made her cry…

Spites observation panics him for a moment but when he looks at her there's no tears present. The only evidence of sadness is a fait sheen to her pale eyes, that haunted look he had seen before in the mirror on his own face. Greif.

As Rook recalls her nightmares and the memories that interlinked them she wished, not for the first time that they had left her to die in that rubble. How was it fair that the gods got to pick and choose who gets the power of creation, of life and who gets that of death and destruction. How she longed to be able to bring her friends back from the dead, reach down upon the earth and feel the roots grow.

"I think they must have started when I was a child but I could never remember anything, only waking up to find myself screaming. The night after the first time my magic manifested there was a thunderstorm, I started dreaming about this woman, I can't recall her face but it was like she was glowing in green flame."

Lucanis's focus is wavering as he tries to hang onto each of her words, something about green flames, a wolf, the sound of thunder, demons and the veil. His time is running out. The pain was behind his eyes now, vision blurring as he blinked over and over trying to shut it out.

"Lucanis." Rooks voice brings him back for a moment. "Are you alright?"

Smells like blood.

Get out of my head.

Can't you smell it? Let us taste her, just this once.

I said, GET OUT.

But Spite was right. The metallic tang in the air was undeniable, he could smell it. A shudder of dread snapped him back into reality. He was looking at her how, really looking. Had Rook always looked this pale? Her eyes were hollow, sunken in slightly and ringed with grey. Her lips parted as she paused mid sentence.

"You are bleeding." Lucanis's voice startles her as she has a moment of confusion before the realisation sets in.

She shifts the seat back a few inches looking down at herself before placing her hand to where the black shirt was sticking to her side. When she brings it away her palm is covered with a fresh coating of blood. Her mouth forms a silent 'oh' as she places her hand back against the wet shirt and holds it in place.

Before Lucanis can stop her she stands up swaying slightly using her free hand to steady herself against the table as he rushes to her side, the crate he was sat on lets out a screech against the stone as he flys across the room towards her.

Told you I smelled blood.

"LEAVE US." He doesn't mean for those words to be voiced aloud. Lucanis's voice comes out through gritted teeth, if Rook notices him speaking to the air she doesn't react - too focused on trying not to pass out.

It's not the blood that makes Lucanis feel like he's going to throw up but what comes after. This is how Spite feeds, the demon can't touch her in its usual state but pain, death and bloodshed calls to it the way a holy man might call upon the gods. When in battle the bond between Spite and Lucanis is forged from violence, all it takes is for the first kill to commence and then two become one. Most days the demon can do little more than cause him headaches with taunts and mind games but in battle Spite can take over fully possessing him and using Lucanis's body as a vessel for violence.

He wasn't sure if Rook's injuries would be enough to let Spite in all the way there was no rule book for this kind of thing but he didn't dare send her away. Not when she was in so much pain, not when seeing her in pain caused him so much.

With one arm under hers and the one carefully hooked around her waist so not to touch the wound he guides her to the table and holds up her weight against his own until her legs secure against it, the table is low enough that when he pushes her back slightly she's able to sit on it without much strain.

"Keep pressure on the wound." He leaves her for just a moment hurrying across the room and pouring out something that look like water onto his hands then wiping them clean on his sheets.

Lucanis was not healer but had learnt survival young and patched himself up after many a battle. He had been nine the first time he'd had to fix a dislocated bone, thirteen when he learnt how to stitch his own wounds.

Rook winces as she feels the throbbing pain grow, her skin heating as sweat begins to coat her skin. She has no idea how long it’s been bleeding or when the stitches had ripped. It was as if until she saw the blood there had been no pain and now it felt like she had an arrow in her side all over again.

When Lucanis returns he's holding a pile of clean cloth and a bottle of clear liquid. "I'll need to redress the wound and clean it."

Rook continues to look down at her side fingers now slick with her own blood she acknowledges him with a faint noise that he can’t make out.

"I need you to look at me. I don't think Varric will forgive me if I let you bleed out on my table." That earns a pained laugh. "This is going hurt." He adds.

"Okay." She nods again this time meeting his eye as Lucanis hand holds her chin to look at him. Defiance lives in her eyes but she agrees to let him help her, this is a woman who does not want to be pitied or saved. He knows exactly how that feels.

Lucanis lets her go and pushes his sleeves up further until the material can't go any higher up his biceps. With little effort he rips the cloth into strips and places it onto the table beside her along with the bottle. Slowly, cautiously, he stands infront of her assessing the situation. Rook moves her body slightly so that she's turned half to the side giving him better actress to her and her hand beings to pull up the bottom of her shirt.

"Do you want me to stop, it's not too late. I can wake one of the others-"

"No it's fine." Rook cuts him off. "It really doesn't hurt that much." Her face says otherwise.

It would be easier for him to remove her top completely but the thin material leaves little to imagination, it's clear Rook wears nothing underneath. Instead Lucanis pulls a dagger from his belt and cuts away at the ruined fabric leaving only enough to cover her. The bulk of the bandages are almost completely soaked through. As he unbinds them from her ribs and throws them onto a pile on the floor Rook swears when the wound is exposed to the cold air.

We could have her right now, on this table.

"It's not as bad as I thought, but you're to need to sit still for the next part. Drink this." He holds the bottle up to her lips and lifts it so she can drink, one hand underneath to catch anything that spills.

Rook splutters and coughs as it burns the back of her throat but takes a few gulps as Lucanis lets out a loose a breath.

With the old bandages removed and blood wiped clean he can now see only three out of the eight stitches had torn open, and other than the irritated red skin around the wound there’s no sign of infection.

"That was fucking disgusting. Do me a favour and just keep talking. If I don't pass out from this, I might die if you serve me anymore beverages." Rook states, eyes closed as she lets out a low whimper whilst Lucanis begins to wipe away the blood. “And if I die.” As grits her teeth. “I will come back and fucking haunt you.”

Such dirty words for such a pretty mouth.

Don’t look at her.

Imagine the sweet sounds she would make.

"I'm not very good at talking." Lucanis confesses, undeterred by her empty threats.

He doubts very much that she would want to hear about how he'd spent almost his entire childhood being experimented on in a cage by the only maternal figure he'd never known.

"Oh i've noticed." Her eyes are wide and alert now, pupils dilating. "Seriously say anything, sing a song tell me a story, make something up. Tell me about possessed life, I bet he's here isn't he, the demon, is he here? Is he a he?"

Rook might not have been thinking clearly to start but now she’s racking her brain for everything she learnt about this man so far. Not only was she about to let an almost stranger - at best coworker, operate on her in a storage cupboard she was about to let a man possessed by a demon to do it. Other than overhearing Neve refer to the demon as 'Spite' once she had no idea if that was its name or what it even was.

Did demons even have pronouns?

"It's here, it likes the blood." If Lucanis was trying to comfort her he was failing miserably.

From the corner of his eye Lucanis can see spite crouching beneath the table, its slightly see through finger poking at the small pool of blood on the ground. Despite the finger going through the blood and stone floor Spite puts it into its mouth and pretends to lick the finger clean.

Delicious.

"Great, well there's plenty of that here. Sounds like a charming guy." Rook lets her head fall back and stares up at the ceiling as she waits for Lucanis to fishing threading the needle.

Lucanis bites down on his bottom lip as he finishes threading the needle then sterilises the wound with what smells like alcohol. He dabs at the blood with no warning and she clutches back as it stings sending shivers down her spine that make her want to kick him.

"What does it feel like?" She asks the corners of her eyes glistening but again, no tears fall.

"At first I thought my soul had been split in half. But now, it’s more like having two sets of hands instead of one, eyes in the back of my head. The power is…unimaginable."

He pulls her skin together holding the flesh with a forefinger and thumb as the needle pushes through for the first stitch. Over rooks deep breathing he swears the faint sound of thunder booms overhead.

"I have heard sories of demons that can possess men. The Grey Wardens knew a lot about dark magic. How did you come to be this way? I mean what happened to you. You weren't born like this, were you?" Rook seems to be sitting straighter now, the tonic kicking in and numbing some of the pain.

"That-Is none of your concern."

"Does it hurt?" Rook knows she should probably change subjects from the strain in his voice but when she looks up at him the answer is written all over his face.

"Yes and no." The look of agony is gone in seconds and he's back to concentrating on her wound.

His hair despite being tied back falls over his shoulder as is long enough that she feels it brush against her bare skin. She can feel his warm breath against her torso and the occasional faint tickle of his beard as he gets too close.

"Does it hurt right now?" Rook wonders looking around the room as if she would find a demon spawn hiding in the shadows, but she sees nothing.

"You don't have to worry about me. You are the one bleeding."

The second stitch is though.

"I'm bleeding all over your bedroom and you won't even tell me how you got possessed by a creepy demon, wow." Rook tries to make an exaggerated gasping sound but it's cut short as the third stitch goes though and the wind is knocked out of her. "Fucking ouch."

"You are very dramatic." He was glad she couldn't see his faint smile as he continued to work.

This was good, if she’s was coherent enough to make jokes and swear at him hopefully she wouldn’t pass out anytime soon. Lucanis makes a mental note that Rook often uses humour as cover when she's hurt.

The pain has faded to a dull ache now, Rooks body already starting to feel a bit stronger with each passing moment but her mind is still hazy. She’s trying to stay awake but all she can think about was how wants him to never stop talking. Each word keeps her tethered to this plane. That accent, she could listen to it forever.

“We are almost done.” Lucanis moves closer to her - his large body is almost completely covering hers as he leans so that he can tie the bandages around her back. He stops half way realising he can't quite reach it without the possibility of hurting her. Rook feels his hand lightly touching her shoulder indicating which way she needs to move as she swings her legs back round to give him better access.

Now Rook sits on the other side as he leans over, legs hanging over the table, back facing him. He doesn't mean to stare when he looks down at her exposed back but there's no helping it as his eyes travel from the bottom of her spine to the top of her half ripped shirt and the array of scars that covered almost every inch of skin in between. Some more faded than others, the freshest couldn't have been more than a year old. Each one thin and precise line, this had been no accident, she had either been forced to take a beating or let someone do this to her.

"Arms up." He instructs as she strains lift them with little protest but manages to keep them held in place long enough for him to loop the cloth around.

He begins to tie the fresh bandages around her, one hand laying flat across her ribs to keep them in place. The rough contrast of the tips his fingers brush against the exposed skin above her bandages. Once he's sure the bandages are tight enough he feels himself moving without thinking. Rook doesn't react as a finger traced the outline of a particularly deep bit of scar tissue that falls almost directly in the centre of her spine.

He had seen this kind of torture before, often inflicted on disobedient soldiers or deserters. It was possible to get rid of most scars and wounds with certain kinds of magic, for cosmic or personal reasons he had seen it done more than once. But some were not as easy to remove as others and perhaps she had chosen to keep them as a reminder for what had been done to her. He shouldn’t care, it was none of his business.

He could feel the demonic energy that ran in his veins drumming under his skin as he flexed his hand by his side. He was only human-ish after all.

Who did this to you? He wondered. I will make them beg for my blade. He should have no right to care. He had done that and worse to his own enemies, what made seeing it on her so different? Spite who had had been suspiciously dormant the entire time Rook had her wounds tended to was now flicking in and out of existence behind her. The demon Rook from its crouch by her side and for once the demon had nothing to say.

They were both thinking the same thing.

"These are not from battle." Lucanis states as he pulls the cut up edge of the shirt back down to cover what he can see of her side.

"No, they are not." Rook answers as she moves off the table to stand. Her cheeks have more colour to them now he notices as she refuses his help when she steadies herself. "Thank you, I think i've ruined your night enough. I should get going now."

Lucanis accepts her thanks with a nod not sure what to do now. He wants to ask her to stay. Only so he can keep an eye on her incase the wound gets worse of course. He couldn't exactly offer up his bed, a girl like her deserved to sleep on beds of silks and feathered mattresses.

In his first week at the Lighthouse he had been given a large room in the north wing with a plush four poster bed and a dozen pillows. It had felt like he was suffocating in the comfort of that bed, he had tried removing all the bedding on the second night. Placing the mattress on the floor on the third then welcoming the cool stone against his bare back on the fourth. None of it had worked. He felt like a dog without the comfort of its cage. It had been years since he'd slept on anything more comfortable than a couple of crates pushed together with a blanket over the top. Not that he slept much as it was.

As Lucanis begins to put away his things he can feel eyes on him as Rook stands as if she's waiting for him to say something. "Right, of course." Lucanis clears his throat then grabs something off his bed and passes it to her. "Get some rest if you can, i'm no healer so you should probably get somebody to look at that in the morning if you can."

Rook takes the shirt from him and begins to pull her old ruined one over her head with one hand as Lucanis turns to give her some privacy. He can feel his blood heating as the awareness that she’s half naked in his room sinks in. She places the discarded top on the pile of bloody cloth and bandages and cringes as she takes in the mess around the room. Dried blood on the floor, glass on the table, the door hanging on its hingers. After today she didn't think she would ever be able to face him again.

His cream collared shirt reaches her mid thigh, the size of it looking ridiculous on her. She was shorter than the average elf and even though Lucanis was tall for a human he only had a few inches on her but his build had made the shirt seem least thrice her normal size. When she finishes dressing Lucanis is still facing away from her - arms resting against the table as he tried not to think about what Rook might look like in his shirt. He can hear Spites perverted thoughts begin to pile up in his mind making him want to flip the table and its contents scores the room. Instead he re arranging his work and places the books back onto the table as he finishes cleaning off any trace of blood, any trace of her.

"Goodnight, Rook." Lucanis mumbles.

The way he says it sounds like goodbye. So this was it then.

"Goodnight."

Rook waits a few more seconds to see if he will turn back and then, she’s gone.

end chapter notes -

everyday i learn something new about his family and backstory (thanks twitter)

this chapter was only meant to be 3k long but i ended up writing about 6k and cutting it down a bit, their dynamic is so fun to write. anyone has information, head canons or theories about him pls share id love to hear them!

do we hate grandma or not? (i think we do)

as always @/saintscain on twitter, hope you enjoyed

[silverynight]

Welcome home

<---Previous

Chapter 5

They decide to go to a cafe; the place is nice and cozy, and Izuku will have the opportunity to ask questions to every single one in order to get all the details about the mission; he wants to know how they used their quirks and why they decided to use them that way.

The tables have bench cushions around; Katsuki and Izuku sit on one and Uraraka, Hagakure and Todoroki on the one in front.

Even though he tells himself to calm down, Izuku can't help it and starts asking about the rescue. He listens with a fascinated smile on his face as Hagakure explains how she used her quirk to blind the villain when he tried to attack them.

Then he starts rambling about her quirk for a while, all the data he has gathered about her during the time they have met each other, she seems interested or at least he hopes so. He's too focused he doesn't even realize Uraraka is looking at something with amusement until she makes a gesture with her hand towards it.

Izuku turns around, only to find Katsuki with a hand on his chin, quietly staring at him with a fond smile on his face.

"What?"

Katsuki looks a little bit flustered when he notices Izuku's confusion, but he doesn't say anything.

"Midoriya, do you want something to eat?"

"Right!" He says, embarrassed. He looks back at Todoroki as his cheeks turn slightly pink. "Sorry for rambling! You must be hungry!"

"It's alright, I don't mind," the pro hero with mismatched hair assures him. "Actually, everything you say is fascinating. I feel like I'm learning a lot about quirks after listening to you."

Izuku can feel the moment his face turns even more red; Katsuki hisses next to him. When he looks at him again, he realizes he's get irritated. He must be starving too.

"What do you want to eat? I'll get it for you."

"Uhh..." Before Izuku can answer Todoroki's question, Katsuki is already getting up while glaring at the other pro hero.

"Don't bother. I always get Izuku's food."

"Well, I want a strawberry churro and Uraraka wants a croissant. Thanks for asking! Yes, we both are here too, in case you have forgotten!" Hagakure cuts in, half irritated half amused at the situation.

"Sorry! I'll go get them for you!" Izuku says.

"Not you, darling! Sit down!"

However, no matter how much Uraraka insists, Izuku ends up in the line with Katsuki and Todoroki.

"Midoriya."

Katsuki growls as a warning, but Todoroki ignores him completely.

"I'd like you to consider working at Endeavor's agency instead."

That definitely wasn't something Izuku expected to come out of Todoroki's mouth.

"I was really impressed by your performance these last two days; you're really smart and I think you'd be a great asset for our agency."

"Oh, fuck off!"

"Kacchan, please," Izuku has to grab the blond pro hero's arm in order to calm him down a bit. Then, when his friend looks less murderous, he turns towards Todoroki again: "I appreciate the offer, but I'm really happy where I am."

"Take that, half and half!"

Rolling his eyes, Izuku is glad they're next in the line. It's a nice distraction. Perhaps food is what everyone needs to feel less irritated.

"What happened?" Uraraka asks, grabbing her croissant and the coffee Izuku decided to buy for her. "I was watching you from here and Bakugo got more grumpy than usual."

"Half and half here wants to steal Izuku from m–us!"

"What do you mean?" Hagakure asks, sounding curious already. By the time Todoroki explains, even the women get slightly annoyed.

"No!" Uraraka huffs, grabbing one of Izuku's hands in hers. "Get your own green bean! This one is ours!"

They keep playfully scolding him for it and even he starts smiling at them. However, Katsuki moves closer to Izuku until their legs are pressing together even though there's plenty of space on his side.

After a while, the four pro heroes start talking about their time in the UA; Izuku can't help but laugh at all the things they tell him about Katsuki.

"They had to put a muzzle on him because he was so angry at Todoroki for not trying harder at the sports festival!" Hagakure chuckles, while Katsuki narrows his eyes at her.

"He even won, but didn't look happy with the results!" Uraraka adds, laughing along with Hagakure.

"He probably thought he didn't deserve it," Izuku cuts in. "That's why he was so mad."

He looks up at the blond pro hero before stroking his cheek; Katsuki closes his eyes and leans into the touch, content.

"It's alright, Kacchan. You did your best!"

"I didn't," Todoroki says then, getting Izuku's attention again. "But that's because I didn't truly accept myself back then."

"But now you do, right?" Izuku asks, smiling kindly at him.

"Now I do."

***

As they sit back in Katsuki's car, Izuku realizes that he's still frowning. Probably because Todoroki asked Izuku to think about his offer.

"I'm not going to work at Endeavor's," Izuku assures him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He relaxes somewhat before looking back at the green haired man with an intense expression on his face; Katsuki does that a lot lately and he has no idea what he's thinking about.

"Stay with me tonight."

"Okay, Kacchan," he says, smiling at him softly. The truth is that he still wants to spend a little bit more time with his friend after what happened.

But staying is a mistake because Izuku likes Katsuki's apartment; it feels like home even though it shouldn't.

The next days he barely stays at his own place and every time he goes back to it, it feels colder and less like the cozy apartment he once acquired.

Katsuki basically gives him one of the guest's rooms; he has a closet for himself in which he keeps a few clothes because he also stays during work days and it's more "convenient" that way.

Somedays, Izuku feels like he's fooling himself.

There's green tea now in Katsuki's kitchen, chocolate, and blueberries on the fridge that Izuku makes disappear quickly.

"You seriously don't want the last bit of honey?" Izuku asks, looking tempted to pour it all over his bread, but he wants to offer it to Katsuki first. He doesn't think he has ever seen him touch the bottle, but he's not there ALL the time.

"I don't like sweet food," Katsuki says from the couch, browsing through Netflix's catalog, looking for a good horror movie.

"But you do like honey!" Izuku argues. "I mean, you bought this..."

That bottle was there before Izuku started staying in that apartment a few times a week.

"I bought it for you," the pro hero says casually, already selecting a movie. The thumbnail looks like it'll give Izuku nightmares.

He looks back at the now empty bottle, feeling warm inside out of the sudden. He smiles, thinking about all the things Katsuki does for him...

"Well, I'll go back to my room now!"

"None of that, nerd!" Katsuki turns around, looking at him over the back of the couch. "You promised!"

"Fine!" Izuku pouts, getting ready to close his eyes. "But if you complain about me clinging to you, I'll leave, okay?"

Being as close as possible to Katsuki is the only thing that makes him feel safe when they watch those kind of movies.

Katsuki snorts.

"Have I ever complained about that?"

"No, but just in case," Izuku mumbles before sitting right next to him, even though there's a lot of space on the couch. "I don't know why you want me here, to be honest. All I do is cover my eyes, gasp and wrap myself around you every time. Sometimes, I even end up on your lap! That can't be pleasant for you!"

Katsuki's smirk makes his eyes glimmer with amusement.

"That is actually very pleasant for me. You have no idea."

It must be because he enjoys Izuku's suffering... his friend is still a jerk sometimes. But he buys a lot of sweets for him and lets Izuku cuddle him so he'll forgive him for that eventually.

To no one's surprise, Izuku ends up covering his eyes and Katsuki's space.

The pro hero looks like he's having the time of his life, but he's kind enough to put a hand over Izuku's shoulders and nuzzle against his green curls to calm him down.

He falls asleep like that but wakes up on his bed in the morning.

***

"Trying a new style?" One of his coworkers asks as a form of greeting. "Well, you look good with everything, Midoriya!"

"Isn't that too big for you though?" Another one says, frowning a bit.

Some days, he wishes he didn't blush that easily; it makes him look like he's hiding something.

"Kacchan gave it to me," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. It's not his fault that Katsuki's clothes are very comfortable; it's true that wearing black is not Izuku's style, but he likes the fact that the hoodie feels like it's hugging him.

He's not sure if that's completely true, though, because most of the time is just Izuku "stealing" things from him that the pro hero ends up giving him.

"I see," the man in front of him grins in a way Izuku doesn't like. There's nothing to "see" there.

He runs back to his station then.

An hour later, he decides to pay a visit to Hatsume. He wants to ask about Kaminari's gear; something happened during his latest mission and it ended up damaged, but Izuku doesn't understand what prompted it to act the way it did. And he needs to understand in order to write a report about it.

But he's also very curious.

Right outside Hatsume's department, Izuku remembers why other people are not allowed there unless they let them know they're coming beforehand.

Izuku forgot to do that.

"Not again!" He manages to hear someone complaining before Hatsume laughs.

"It's alright! We always learn from our mistakes," she says right before something inside explodes and sends Izuku backwards.

There's smoke everywhere; his ears start ringing a bit, but he realizes he's alright, although his back hurts.

"Are you okay, Midoriya?" Hatsume asks, leaning over him. "You shouldn't be here."

He gets that now. At least the people from support are completely fine, mostly because they wear special clothes all the time. In case something like that happens.

"Are you sure you're fine?"

"Yes, don't worry!"

"Alright, then let me turn off the alarm in your device before he comes running here..."

Honestly, Izuku had forgotten his pretty necklace was a security device. But now as he looks down he sees a red dot in the middle of the X.

"IZUKU!"

"Too late," Hatsume mumbles, right before turning it off. She moves away from Izuku to give room for Dynamight to fret over him.

"I'm fine, Kacchan, I promise," he assures him as he manages to sit.

Katsuki kneels on the floor next to him and Izuku notices his hero suit; it looks clean and impeccable, which means he was about to go out.

His red eyes start scanning his body from head to toe, desperately looking for wounds.

"Where does it hurt?" He asks, touching Izuku's back of the head with his fingertips. When the green haired man flinches, the pro hero's eyes lose their shine. "I'll take you to the infirmary."

"Kacchan, wait!"

Katsuki growls. He's obviously still in distress, and Izuku can't have that. Pretending no one is watching, he cradles his friend's face and rubs their noses together.

The fear he notices in his eyes shocks Izuku for a moment.

"I'm fine, Kacchan," he whispers, smiling softly at him. "I promise."

He watches as the blond's broad shoulders lose some of their tension. His arms wrap around Izuku's completely before he presses his lips against one of his freckled cheeks gently. After he takes a deep breath, he does the same against the other.

Izuku's heart skips a beat.

"Alright! Let's go back to work, everybody!" Hatsume says, clapping her hands together to get her workers' attention. "There's nothing to see here!"

As the smoke clears, Izuku turns as red as a strawberry.

Katsuki doesn't seem to care about having an audience or not.

"When I heard the alarm, I panicked," he admits, pointing at a bracelet on his right wrist. Izuku had thought all this time it was a simple accessory.

"I'm fine," he repeats, mostly because his own heartbeat doesn't let him think that much.

Katsuki leans to give him a kiss on the forehead, making even more difficult for Izuku to actually focus.

"Let me take you to the infirmary anyway. Please, it'll help me feel better."

"Okay, Kacchan."

As the doctor explains to them both that Izuku doesn't have a concussion and the incident only got him a few bruises, he realizes, as he remembers Katsuki's soft kisses on his face that me might have feelings for his best friend.

And that could be a problem.

***

Perhaps the best thing is to stop staying with Katsuki; Izuku's feelings will only grow if he keeps spending that much time with his friend.

It's a good thing he never moved in with him like Katsuki wanted. He'd be kicked out immediately if the pro hero found out about Izuku's crush on him.

Except that it doesn't feel like a simple crush.

As they both walk down the stairs, Izuku takes a deep breath and thinks about an excuse to stay at his own apartment this time.

"Here, take this, nerd," Katsuki stops for a moment to give him a key. "This is just in case you need it, but you know you only have to type the code to get in."

A copy of Katsuki's apartment door key. And he's going to give him the code too.

"It's 0715," the pro hero says in a whisper. His face turns so red Izuku worries about him for a moment. "So when... I'm on late night patrol you can get in without me and stay there."

"Oh, that'll be easy to remember!" He says, chuckling. His friend probably hasn't even realized what those numbers mean. "It's like my birthday! What a coincidence!"

Katsuki chokes on air, blush spreading down his neck. Maybe he's getting sick or something...

"I know you are really smart, but sometimes you make me question your intelligence."

"Kacchan, that's so mean!" Izuku tries to look offended, but he fails miserably. Besides, his mind is preoccupied with something else.

When they're inside Katsuki's car. Izuku takes a deep breath.

"Take me to my apartment, please."

"Why? Did you forget something?"

"No... it's just," he bites his bottom lip before continuing: "I mean... I live there after all, I should stay in my own apartment."

"Or you can finally move in with me."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Katsuki turns his head towards him; good thing he hasn't started the car yet.

"Why not? Does something in my apartment bother you? We can redecorate it if you want. I just bought you a display cabinet to put your ridiculous All Might figure collection. It was a surprise, by the way. So pretend to be surprised when it finally arrives."

Katsuki is making it really difficult for Izuku not to fall in love with him.

"Uhh... it's..." Izuku blinks as his eyes start getting wet.

"What is it, Izuku? Talk to me. You know you can tell me anything," he says; he's never heard him speak that softly to him. His thumbs wipe his tears off before he presses his forehead against the sweet nerd's.

Katsuki deserves to know so he can decide for himself if he wants to keep some distance between them from now on.

It'll break Izuku's heart, but he can handle it.

"Listen, Kacchan, don't freak out, but I think I have f-feelings for you. So it'll be better if we–"

"Wow," Katsuki chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. "You really are an idiot, Izuku."

"This is not funny, Kacchan! I'm trying to tell you something important!"

"So am I!" He smiles, red eyes glimmering with unrestrained happiness. He cradles Izuku's confused face, before giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "Izuku. I am in love with you."

"What?" He blinks, getting slightly dizzy as Katsuki keeps pressing their lips together. Kisses pressed against his face as he turns so pink his freckles disappear momentarily.

"I have never been subtle about my devotion to you," Katsuki smirks, enjoying the fact that Izuku gets so flustered after being kissed to speak properly. "That's why everyone in the agency thinks we're dating. Yes, I know about those rumors too, the only difference is that I have never shut them down."

"But why you never told me anything?"

Katsuki's smile vanishes for a moment and Izuku wants to take the question back immediately.

"I thought you didn't love me the way I did."

This time it's Izuku the one who initiates their kiss, although Katsuki is the one in control. He smiles against his lips before taking his time to explore Izuku's mouth.

"Move in with me, Izuku."

"I'd love to, Kacchan."

***

A lot of things have changed in a month; Izuku finally left his old apartment and is now living with Katsuki.

And sleeping on his bed too.

Waving a hand in front of his face to stop himself from blushing, Izuku focuses on the task at hand.

He has practiced that curry recipe a lot, torturing his friends in the process, although Todoroki claims that the first time was perfect.

Uraraka couldn't even finish it, Kirishima gave him a thumbs up, but didn't look like he was enjoying it.

However, the last one was a success, which means he's ready to make it for his boyfriend.

He wants to surprise Katsuki this time; he's the one who cooks for them and he knows he does it gladly, but Izuku wants to show him he can make an effort too.

A loud sigh escapes from his lips when he finishes just in time for the door to open.

"I'm home, Izuku!"

He rushes towards the entrance because that's one of his favorite parts of living with Katsuki, that he gets to greet him in his own home.

In their own home, and wants to do that for the rest of their lives.

The realization hits him by surprise, and both Izuku and Katsuki just stand there, frozen, staring into each other's eyes like they know exactly what they're both thinking.

"You look cute with that apron," Katsuki breathes deeply, as if he had forgotten how to and pulls Izuku into a tight hug. "Is it too soon to ask you to marry me?"

"It's us," he whispers back, trying not to cry. "We have never been a conventional couple to begin with. It's fine."

"Is that a yes?"

"It is."

After a long kiss, Izuku pushes his boyfriend away a bit, chuckling when Katsuki chases his lips desperately and pouts when he keeps turning his head away.

"Come on, nerd! Just one more!"

"Wait, I need to tell you something first."

"What is it?"

"Welcome home, Kacchan!"

Katsuki rolls his eyes, but the glimmer in them and the wide smile on his lips tell Izuku that he's just as happy to hear that as Izuku is to say it.

***

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[azrielgreen]

random question, but why Nebraska? I live in the US and often forget Nebraska even exists, but you happen to have two stories set there. Do you have a connection to Nebraska, or did you just choose a state at random in the middle of the country? Or do you find something poetic about the expansive nothingness of the Cornhusker state?

just curious.

So, it's really strange but Nebraska holds a deep emotional meaning in my heart that involves Ethel Cain, Billy Hargrove and 'Rooms'. Apologies for the little ramble ahead, but for those who enjoy such things, gather round.

When I first started writing Rooms, I was experiencing a lot of burnout, very much questioning myself as a writer and also recovering still from a near death experience. I had made a new friend who became such an important and beautiful part of my life, and it was in this time of loss, self-doubt and awakening that I felt comfortable enough to share with my new friend that I loved the character Billy Hargrove. This sounds so stupid even as I'm writing it now, but I had been made to feel that liking him was this extremely taboo thing and that I should be ashamed of it. Even a former friend I thought I was close with often made me feel terrible for liking him. My new friend was not like that. We talked for hours and hours about the things we liked, and I felt brave enough to admit that of all the characters, every single one, in ST, Billy is my favourite. My friend was kind and open and supportive and it was here, around this time that we started writing a story together that would later become Prism and coming up with all these incredible ideas and perspectives I had never considered. Although people credit me with much of Prism Eddie's creation and expansion, always remember it is @thorniest-rose who invented him.

This is when I wrote Rooms.

This is also the time I discovered Ethel fucking Cain.

A House in Nebraska and Sun Bleached Flies altered my DNA and I listened to them both back to back on a loop while writing Rooms. It became something so meaningful and personal and beautiful, and all three are tangled up together. Inextricable connections between these things I love so much and at the heart of it all, is Nebraska. I've never been to Nebraska, but I imagine it to be exactly as you said. The great, vast nothingness, the absence of any significant pull to visit or tour there. It's sort of branded into me, the line about 'I'm still praying for that house in Nebraska, by the highway on the edge of town,' and it's all tangled up with Billy Hargrove and the possibilities of an abused kid making good, coming through the other side, learning and growing. Longing for this quiet, no man's land of blue skies and endless horizon. I would often dream of such things myself. Just a house. Somewhere I was safe. And I wrote all this at a time when I met someone I came to love and care about so much in mutual support and kindness, and it's why Rooms is gifted to her.

Opening yourself up to new things is such a beautiful and important phenomenon, especially when you're grieving or recovering. Rooms to me is a touchstone of reassurance that I can write whatever the fuck I want and anyone who tries to tell me different is not my friend. Nebraska has become an almost nebulous place in my mind and heart, to the point I get excited when I hear anyone even mention it in passing. I think we put meaning where we need to, anthropomorphising and humanising and telling stories to get through the hard parts of life. Nebraska is the core of that for me. Synonymous with self-acceptance, growth, positive change, releasing what doesn't serve, embracing who you are, saying fuck you to those who would police your joy and creating whatever the fuck you want without needing it to be liked, but also this deeply sad part of myself that acknowledges what I went through as a child and what I experienced at the hands of people who were supposed to take care of me. I have at this point in my life lost a huge amount of my childhood memories all the way up to my late twenties. Nebraska is the long distance friend I never had, the moon watching over me, the place I go to in my mind to make it all go quiet and calm. I feel like I've written this huge story around a place I've never been to and for some reason, it just stuck hard.

Like many British kids growing up watching America on our screens, I always wanted to live there and although I'm now glad I don't, I'll always be in love with the country and all her patchwork quilt states, these weird little lands sewn together that are so different, almost like a world unto itself. I never choose a state randomly, but Nebraska is laden with meaning and woven with feeling, all of which I'm sure seems massively unearned as I'm just another person who grew up in a rainy country, longing for blue skies, with a tendency to love abandoned things.

Thank you for asking.

All my love, Az

💜💜💜

[invisiblerhythmcat]

ugh, of course I accidentally stumbled onto something my partner wrote about how fucked up things are for them

and it's so hard to not have that deeply gnawing guilt that I'm a horrible person for abandoning them and that I'm the cause of one of their complete brain melts

so, just, going to publicly remind myself that I didn't abandon them - I'm still keeping track of certain things for them and am very prepared to jump in if there's any reason to fear that will not be housed or fed

also, them suffering does not mean I have to suffer too.

we were in a completely untenable situation in which I was basically torturing myself in order to take care of them and that wasn't good for either of us. yes, it's not good that I had to step back. and yes, it's unfair that I have been able to start building the life I want and they have not, but that is not my fault.

I am too fucked up to be a caretaker for more than one person and I made myself incredibly sick taking care of them but not me

this is a product of society fucking disabled people over. They should have all this support without needing to rely on family and partners. I should also have support as a disabled person. I should also have had support as a caretaker. Instead, the third person who was supposed to be my support was actively making things worse

and, no matter how fucked up they are, I am allowed to hurt. They did and said incredibly hurtful things. Maybe it was just because their brain is a mess and they can't always control it, but it still hurt and I'm allowed to hurt.

The one time this happened and I asked for an apology (because I was hurting), they refused because it wasn't their fault because their brain is just weird sometimes. I'm allowed to be angry about that. I'm allowed to be angry that they never acknowledged my hurt, even if I understand that it came from a place of desperation and fear.

It was supposed to be for only a month and a half. I hung on for over two years. That's not abandonment. That's not being a horrible ableist who refuses to take care of their partner. That's a really dedicated, committed person who accepted a huge amount of harm with no support trying to keep a person alive and happy at all costs.

Like, it really fucking sucks that it's like this now. They don't fucking deserve any of this. But I didn't either and I fucking tried my best to give them everything they deserved.