#had to draw these ugly fucking chocolates by hand

[tinglingfuckingsensation]

Chocolat...pour vous! Happy valentine's day to my favorite throuple baberoenee ❤

[effetsecndaires]

— 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥!

➺ PAIRING | gyutaro shabana x fem!reader.

➺ CONTENT WARNING | a little suggestive towards the end. 0,9k words not proofread

➺ NOTE | happy valentine's day to those who don't celebrate 🧚🏻‍♀️ I wanted this to be a janitor bot at first but I didn't want to 'waste' the idea on a bot :') I'm gonna be honest with y'all, the last few months have been pretty rough. I hate everything I write, and it's only getting worse with time. Im not sure if i'll ever get out of that state of mind at this point but oh well, haha. it is what it is I guesssss

Gyutaro had never cared about Valentine's Day before he met you.

Now, he’s pretty sure it’s his favorite day of the year. Not because he likes the holiday itself—no, he still thinks it’s ridiculous how people cling to shallow gestures and empty words, acting as if love only matters once a year when it’s wrapped in ribbons and chocolate. But you? You made it different. You made it meaningful.

This year, you had insisted on celebrating properly, saying something about making up for all the years he never got to experience it. Gyutaro had scoffed at the idea, grumbling about how pointless it was. But deep down, a part of him—one he barely admitted to himself—had been looking forward to it for weeks.

So now here he is, lying on your futon, watching as you carefully set up a tray with all the things you’ve prepared for him. Handmade chocolates, a cup of warm tea, and a tiny wrapped gift.

“You’re spoiling me too much, y'know,” he murmurs, scratching absently at his arm. His nails dig a little too hard into his skin but he barely notices. A small, barely noticeable smirk creeps onto his lips as he tilts his head at you. “Aren’t you worried I’ll start expecting this every year?”

“Maybe that’s my plan,” you tease back, kneeling beside him. Before he can respond, you lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips, the tender gesture making him freeze.

God. Why'd you have to be so goddamn perfect? He hates it. Hates how easily you manage to drive him crazy with the simplest touch. How badly he wants more. How he's already fighting his own body so that he doesn't pounce on you and take your right here and there on this futon before you even have the chance to go through with the date. He’s pathetic, isn’t he? The thought makes him dig his nails a little deeper into his palm — but before it can get to the point of drawing blood, your hand is on his wrist gentle as always, guiding his fingers away from his skin.

“Hey. None of that, baby.” you interrupt his train of thoughts, bringing his knuckles to your lips. “No self-loathing allowed on Valentine's day, 'kay?"

Gyutaro immediately looks away and huffs, heat quickly creeping up his neck. Fuck. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you so fucking much his throat tightens with the need to scream it on top of the roofs. He's not sure why the universe suddenly decided to bless him with a love like yours, but, hell. He isn't about to take it for granted.

With a slightly trembling hand, he plucks one of the chocolates from the tray in front of him and pops it into his mouth, desperately needing to shift the focus off himself.

“You made those yourself? Eh, they're not bad, I guess..." he teases, letting out a quiet hum of approval.

“Not bad?” you gasp. “I spent all evening making these, and all you’ve got for me is ‘not bad’?”

Gyutaro grins, watching the way your lips purse in mock indignation. The way you tease him so effortlessly, like he’s just a guy and not the ugly loser he knows himself to be — it makes something warm stir inside him, his dick hardening and twitching traitorously in his pants. But he ignores it, not wanting to out himself as a complete creep to the girl he loves. Instead, he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly delicate. His fingers brush against your cheek, feeling the heat of your skin beneath them.

“Yeah, alright, fine..." he rolls his eyes playfully. “They’re perfect. Just like you.”

Your eyes widen for a moment, your lips parting and closing again in shock. Then you let out a laugh, tilting your head to press a kiss to the heel of his palm. “Mhm, that’s better.”

“Hey, don’t get all cocky with me now,” His smirk widens, fingers intertwining with yours. “It’s not every day I hand out compliments, y’know. Don't get used to it.”

You squeeze his hand, your fingers tracing idle patterns against his skin. “Well, I guess that just makes them even more special, then.”

Gyutaro doesn’t argue. The truth is, he'll probably shower you with compliments every day after that. He knows it, and he knows you do too.

His heart beats an unsteady rhythm against his ribs, but he finds he doesn’t mind. He likes this. Likes you.

When you shift closer and tug him into your arms, Gyutaro doesn't resist. He lets you guide his head to rest against your chest and exhales a long breath, his entire body relaxing when your fingers start threading through his messy, tangled hair.

A long silence settles between you then, but it isn’t uncomfortable. He tightens his grip on you, letting his fingers curl into the fabric of your clothes as if that will somehow ground him.

Gyutaro closes his eyes, letting himself enjoy the slow, steady rise and fall of your chest as you kiss the crown of his head. For once, he doesn’t feel like a monster. He doesn’t feel like something broken. He's just... a man, held in the arms of someone who loves him. And for the first time in a long, long time, he thinks that maybe—just maybe—happiness isn’t entirely out of his reach.

[skyfallscotland]

Things I loved about Onyx Storm, in no particular order 🖤⚡️

This is an addendum to my overall review post—there’s also one about the things that I didn’t like here.

I do love ride or die riorgail, even if their characters didn't feel quite right to me (dare I say fanon-esque?). In any case, threatening people for the one they love? 10/10, would eat it up every time.

The dragons being every rider's first love? It won't be a surprise to you if you've read BRV but I adore this take so much.

She was the first to choose me, to elevate me above all others, the first to see every ugly side of me and accept it all, and every single person in this fucking canyon will die before they remove a single one of her scales.

Ok then!

And Violet?

“You see, that’s my little one.”

I'm crying!!

Tairn and Andarna? Like that's her father!!!

“Do not go any deeper than your claws!” Tairn lectures, his tail nearly taking out a tree when he pivots to watch her go. “I swear, if you get in over your head, I’ll let you drown.”

Their every interaction made me:

Except for this one, which had me tearing up!

Tairn cranes his neck forward and growls. “You will not raise your voice to her.” Andarna turns her head and narrows her eyes at Tairn. “Do not ruin this for me.” Hurt stabs through the bond and Tairn recoils, his head drawing back to cover Ridoc and me.

Then there's Sgaeyl—mother!!!

“You are an inconvenience for which there is no adequate measurement.”

She wasn't talking to Xaden all book (v upsetti spaghetti) but she still would defend him with her life because she's mum!!

“Tell her the truth. He loathes her,” Tairn suggests. “As does Sgaeyl. The life-giver is lucky she wasn’t scorched this morning, though I do believe Sgaeyl is still contemplating her options.”

Speaking of mothers, I both hated and loved the Hedotis chapters. I really enjoyed them, I thought they were fun, Violet channeled the twin she doesn't know she has (lol iykyk) which was in my opinion out of character for her (threatening someone's kids???) but despite the lack of character growth to get there, I still really enjoyed this sequence for all its emotional aspects.

“How does she”—he points to the door—“ deserve my ten minutes when she fed me chocolate cake on my tenth birthday and vanished later that night? I am the fulfillment of a contract for her. Nothing more. I don’t give a shit how she looks at me, or whatever bullshit she undoubtedly spewed at you. The only reason we’re in her house is because she’s married to one of the triumvirate, and I have no problem using that to get what we need.”

I don't know how chocolate cake is still his favourite food because that would ruin me. (It just did).

Violet's protectiveness in this sequence was everything though! 😭 Fuck you, Talia!

“What I need is for Xaden to be all right. If that means setting this house on fire and leaving without accomplishing anything else on this isle, then I’ll hand him a torch.”

Onto other characters, Ridoc is still hilarious and honestly his humour and one-liners saved my reading experience from being downright terrible, same with Cam—sorry CamLAEN! (lol)

Once again, I really thought she might kill Ridoc for a second there (this is very much a flipped Iron Flame re-write in some aspects lmao) but thankfully for everyone involved, she didn't.

"Violet was out of control. She kicked a queen’s ass and poisoned Xaden’s mom and all three Hedotic heads of state, but secured us an army.”

“Oh, and just so we’re clear, that strike up there wasn’t”—he gestures between us—“ you know. Us.” He flinches. “I mean, it was us because I pissed her off, but it wasn’t us… us, if you know what I’m saying.”

Confirmation everyone knows about the lightning storms.

The representation—as someone living through Australian summer, I really appreciated that POTS was represented more thoroughly in the hot climate of the Isles, though it was still never actually touched on (I think there could have been a line in there explaining why it was relevant/what was happening in her body and that she wasn't just tired) but still, happy to see it there and (don't take this the wrong way but) maybe to see Violet struggle more, just a little.

Then there's Dain.

Dain! My boy, my baby. He was 110% done with everyone and I'm so here for it. He was going through it!

“Was that a compliment? What the fuck is going on?” Dain asks, his gaze flying to mine. “Did you give him something?”

Dain puts both hands up, palms outward at his chest. “How in all that’s holy am I to blame for this?”

“Love wasting my time,” Dain mutters, then shoves the small booklet I recognize as the language compendium for Unnbriel into the chest pocket of his flight jacket.

Aaric sighs from beside Xaden, then proceeds to speak like he was freaking born here. Dain looks ready to murder him.

I also got my wish for him and Sloane, which was unexpected but appreciated! (I created tags for not one but TWO of the ships in this book and I am so stoked about it!). It also makes Rebecca's TS song choice of The Prophecy for him make a lot more sense.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Xaden calls up at Dain as he dismounts, but my focus firmly locks over Brennan’s shoulder. “Following her ass,” Dain replies.

“I don’t coddle first-years anymore, so train. Your. Signet.” “Asshole,” she whispers, and the flush in her cheeks deepens.

I love them, your honour. I would read whole books about them.

Speaking of—

“What the fuck are we going to do with that thing for the rest of the trip?” “Her name is Broccoli, not that,” he mutters.

These two (three?) are iconic and I want more of them. I want Mira recovering from her injuries and Drake coming to check on her and dumping a kitten on her chest, and Mira pretending she doesn't like Broccoli but secretly finding her comforting and letting her stay (and him, too, because it's love).

Professor Riorson. God this was ridiculous and I hated it, but it made me laugh.

The normally sweet drink tastes bitter in my throat.

Absolutely fan service but I'm positive it made us all groan aloud at the same time, which was amusing.

“Agreed,” Ridoc says. “And it’s always the same fight.” He lifts his hand to his chest. “I’ll trust you if you stop keeping secrets!” He drops the hand and scowls. “It’s my secretive nature that attracted you, and why can’t you just stay out of harm’s way for five fucking minutes?”

“You could hyphenate,” Garrick suggests. “Or combine? Riorgail? Sorrenson?”

Also, fan service, which, did I like it? No, but I laughed at (because otherwise I'd cry so).

And then there were lines like this, that made me absolutely tear up and hit me in the feels:

But something is broken between here”—he taps the side of his head—“ and here”—he repeats the motion above his heart. “And I can’t control it.

He cups the back of my neck and pulls me within inches of his face—close enough to kiss. “I could reach the rank of Maven, lead armies of dark wielders against everyone we care for, and watch every vein in my body turn red as I channel all the power in the Continent, and I would still love you. What I did doesn’t change that. I’m not sure anything can.”

So yeah, even if my overall experience was messy and chaotic, and perhaps not the best it could be, I did still love parts of it and find some of it enjoyable. I'm trying to change my mindset for a re-read, but I think it's best if I have some space before I try again.

In the meantime, what was your favourite thing? 🖤

[eris-snow]

𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Tags: Revelation (Deku's birthday series 2024), izuku x fem!reader, revelation, stabbing, blood, angst, no fluff, sorry, pain, this is late, ft bakugou and ochaco,

Masterlist

15th July: Doomsday.

--

Class starts off normal. Yeah, that’s it. Cool, normal, totally not like your childhood best friend is burning holes into you like you were going to get slammed by a semi-truck at any minute.

Izuku’s eyes are pools of crystal lakes. Like Narcissus looking into his own reflection, Izuku’s eyes compelled you to look his way. Maybe it was sorcery or witchcraft—his eyes seem to sparkle, and they’re mesmerising beyond any precious jewel.

I get it. It’s your birthday. Doomsday.

And maybe, you were just the slightest bit peeved at his actions. All through yesterday, he’d been avoiding you like a plague. Wouldn’t talk to you, speak to you, hell, he wouldn’t even look at you. Then all of a sudden, he decides that he wants to shower you with his gaze and attention, or peer at you with those fucking eyes like he hadn’t been avoiding you these past few days.

You thought you knew dense, but this? Izuku was a fucking mineshaft.

Just as you’re about to address his intense gaze during homeroom, Aizawa calls you out for the second time in the span of one week. You pretend you don’t feel all eyes on you as you exit the classroom. There’s a certain aloofness you can never mirror from Kacchan. There isn’t the “I’d die for you in a heartbeat” mentality ingrained in your bones just like how it is for Izuku. You wish to emulate both of them, for a trait special to your personal, but when you stop to think about it, you draw a blank.

Ugly, ugly, plain and boring, you remind yourself, as you step out the classroom to meet Aizawa. You’re getting called out so often because you can’t even act fine correctly.

There’s a hand in your face before you know your mouth is open. “My turn first,” Aizawa says, dead serious. “You aren’t in trouble, and this isn’t about Midoriya.”

Your mouth clangs shut, and your throat constricts. What else would he want to talk about?

“An opportunity has been presented to you,” Aizawa says, trailing off a little. “By Star’s former agency in America.”

The world tilts sideways, and you actually stumble to keep yourself on your feet because of the floor’s disequilibrium. “W-What…?”

“One of them wants you there as a sidekick.”

America?

That’s more than, what, 6000 miles to the great wild West. The land where dreams came true (supposedly).

“Ever since you aided Stars and Stripes in her last battle, the agency’s been keeping an eye on you. There’s an interview, and paperwork, and a contract but I suspect those are simply formalities.” Aizawa says nonchalantly, but you can see the pride in his eyes. The pride of a teacher, when his student has soared high. That battle was intense, but it was ashes compared to Izuku’s heart-moving victory that had saved the world.

“B-B-But…” You stutter, “I-I don’t think I’m the best candidate! Won’t they want one from the Big Three? Did they get the wrong person? Ask them to double-check because I don’t think—”

Aizawa gives you an unnerving stare, and his words that come out flat. “Kid, they phoned me 14 times. Pretty sure they got the right person.”

Hesitation lines your face, as Aizawa pats your shoulder. “More details will be given should you accept. They want you from next year onwards, which I am willing to compromise for as long as you have fixed times with you to revise the necessary topics. You, Bakugou and Midoriya have finished most of the syllabus, correct? Should you feel necessary, I possess revision materials and suitable dates should you want to take the final exam earlier.”

It’s a beautiful opportunity. A ‘I-found-a-golden-ticket-in-my-chocolate’ kind of opportunity. It was so tempting to take.

But…

You were just 17. A teenager that won the lottery, who now had to deal with consequences. What about family, housing, language, oh God, your English was so bad you would die before they asked you ‘dine in or take out?’ And besides…

Aizawa sees the look on your face, and sighs loudly. How many times are you going to stupidly throw your life away for Izuku?

You can’t keep doing this, but clinging to Izuku and this ever burning love you have for him is all you ever know. Running of to America? You don’t think you could comprehend the distance across oceans paired with the distance of time. Aizawa stares at you and shakes his head in disappointment. “Give it a thought. It’s okay to be selfish sometimes, L/n. Don’t let anyone hold you back from chasing your dream.”

You swallow thickly. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, someone wants you, and you’re being called to help other people, be a real heroe and drop the ‘in-training’, to fight crime and kick as in a country with crime rates so high they could rival the Empire State Building.

You’re a terrible mess, and when you think about it more, the more miserable you get.

It’s my dream to be a hero, but what if my dream is you too?

—

“We need to talk,” Izuku’s voice is gentle, but it’s plush pillows wrapped up in caution tape. Assessing him doesn’t take too long, because by the way he grips your wrist as your foot is halfway out the door, he wants to tell you something, and it’s urgent.

Shrugging his hand off, you fold your arms and project aloofness, although it’s not very convincing. You feel your lips threaten to break into a false smile, and mentally slap yourself when it almost flits across your face. Izuku had caught up to you on that ever since his fragmented memories started returning, so you’d tried to stop.

Bad habits and sticky fingers.

“What is it?” You try to soften the edge of your voice like sandpaper, but you still see the way he flinches at your voice. Patrol is in half an hour, and if you don’t book it, you’ll be late. “Oh, and if this is about your birthday party and how you don’t want it, too bad, Mina already bought silly string and Sato bought ingredients for the cake, so you can’t—”

“It’s not, about my birthday.” He insists, shoving the topic aside. A hand runs through his curls, as if trying to soothe his nerves, but you can see the way he has to forcefully drop his hands to the side and avert his gaze. His outer shell had slowly crumbled off the longer he was around you, little fragments chipped off until gone is Hero Deku, and underneath is a more human Izuku, with nervous habits and mistakes.

“Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been…around.” He says, trying to phrase it nicely. It does him no favours. “There were a couple of things I had to figure out and rearrange in my head, it’s just—”

He looks desperate, and you’re feeling bad. Emerald green washes over your eyes, mirroring the calm of a forest even though he’s nothing but.

“I’ve gotten hold of how the Quirk Accident happened, and-and a way to lift the Quirk, but…” He swallows thickly, before his eyebrows furrow. “Are you even listening to me?”

Your eyes had strayed to a clock, thoughts wandering, but you jerked back to reality when a scarred hand tugged your own. “A way to lift the Quirk?”

It’s only when you repeat his words do you really understand the weight of them.

Joy bubbles up and exudes from you like an air freshener on crack.

Hey, aren’t you excited? The little child that always hoped for another way whispers, tugging your arm with a beautiful smile. Izuku’s gonna remember you.

But the logical side of you, the side with squandered hope and broken dreams makes you think through your feelings. The longer you think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense.

If Izuku had found a way to lift this curse, then why hadn’t he done it yet?

The clocks tick, and the minute hand moves. How many minutes do you have left until he forgets?

“Yeah, but that can wait.” He says in a rush. “There’s some guy I met—on the streets! He’s related to my Accident. I don’t think he’s the exact person, but close, brother, probably, since he said ‘Nii-san’—”

“What?”

Your heart rate spikes and colour drains from your face. Chisuke and Izuku made contact, oh God, and you didn’t even know. Now that you see it, you can’t unsee it. The redness on his neck, like he’d been held at knifepoint. Worry blossoms in your voice.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t tell Sensei?”

“I just met him yesterday,” Izuku defends, eyes blazing. “And he’s not targetting me like you thought, he’s targetting you!”

Time slows. The declaration was like a veil lifted from your eyes, a shiny revelation that stares at you in the face. The target…

Is me.

Your eyes flicker back to Izuku’s face, huffing and puffing like he fought a bull to stand down. You stare at him. He’s all muscle, baby fat thinning, freckles sprinkled across his face like stars in the sky.

“It’s me?” You whisper, voice small.

Izuku watches you look at him dumbly, words caught in your throat.

“Please,” He whispers, features lined with worry, the same worry you once felt for him now reflected right back at you. “Don’t go for patrol, stay here, where it’s safe. Starlight—”

The name feels like ants on your skin.

“You’ve done so much already,” he takes out a hand, the same one as in that dumb, snow-white hospital room when he got concussed from pushing himself too hard.

I’ve done nothing.

“I…” He swallows. “I don’t want to lose you when I’m this close to figuring it all out.”

The last time you’d taken his hand it tasted like victory. Everything felt perfect, as if fireworks had painted the sky a vibrant colour shows, an artist’s masterpiece for all to see. But now, as you lock eyes with his hand, you can’t help but wonder if it really mattered anymore.

It doesn’t matter if Izuku remembers or forgets—Chisuke would still be hunting you down, looking for a way to wipe your emotions until the heroes lock him up.

All the memories, flashes of moments he’s gained from agony and tears—they’ll be locked behind reinforced walls by the stroke of midnight.

The karma of this exact day, 7 years ago is finally catching up to you after all this time. What will Chisuke do this time? Cut you up? Drown you in your blood? You taste ash on your tongue, throat clogged up.

If it really comes to it, maybe it wasn’t completely undeserved.

Isn’t that for the best? Someone whispers in your ear, voice a whispy and taunting.

Because this entire fiasco is because of you.

The minute hand ticks again, and your phone buzzes. Your patrol, your shift—

Izuku’s still there, waiting for you to take his hand.

Walls constrict on you, and feel your ribcage squeezing the air out of your lungs.

You’re gonna die, you’re going to flatline, you’re—

You only hurt when you let it hurt, and it all goes away when you don’t think.

Don’t think.

The answer comes to your hazardous grappling, and you’re so desperate to stop spiralling, you do something that you haven’t done since Izuku started talking to you again.

It comes as easy as breathing, as you let that rope snap. Up goes the walls, and gone your thoughts.

Don’t think.

Dissociate, detach, let go, don’t cry, you can’t start now.

Eyes flash upwards, and you force yourself to steel. Stars aren’t supposed to break.

“Move.”

Izuku’s eyes widen at your shifted demeanour, and his legs carry him out of my way as his face collapses with confusion. “Starlight, what’s wrong with you?” He whispers, pleading for you to listen. “Starlight—”

“I’m going for patrol,” You exhale sharply, looking at him with dull eyes. Expressionless, head empty, come on, just a little bit more, don’t break now—

“I’ll be careful out there, and I’ll come back safe.” Maybe.

“Starlight, you’re not listening to me—!”

“You never listen to me either, so I guess we’re both even!” You shout, swinging the door open.

The anger is foreign at your fingertips. You’ve felt disappointed, sad, longing and desire, all shrivelled up in balls of tissue paper as you wake up screaming at night. But anger? It was fresh, a band-aid ripped from raw skin.

“We’re both shitty teenagers who want to do what we think is the best for each other, and there’s nothing more to it,” You whisper, rubbing your eyes at where the tears start to leak out. This is bad, you’re out of practice, and the mask is peeling off so quickly.

You’re just so, so tired.

“Leave me alone, Midoriya.”

Hurry up and get your memories already.

“I’m not worth it.”

Haven’t I waited long enough?

Tears prickle Izuku’s eyes, pools of green watering. He’s always been such a crybaby.

Voice shaky, he echoes. “You’re worth it.”

A terrible, unsightly smile crawls up your face, and the laugh that drops from your lips is bitter and humourless.

“Goodbye, Midoriya.”

The door slams shut, and Izuku’s tears bubble over. What hell of a birthday is this?

A shadow creeps up on him, and, oh look it’s Kacchan. He messed up big time, of course he blew it with you. Furiously, he wipes his tears away and sniffles. He has no right to cry.

“God, dammit nerd, what the fuck was that?”

“I know—” He sobs, as Katsuki punches him in the face. The burn is well deserved, as the blond yanks him by the collar and spits in his face. “Good job, dumbass! You lost someone who’s been chasing after you for fuck knows how long. How’d you manage that?”

Katsuki’s voice is like a slap in the face, one he knew he very much deserved. “What, you gonna sob about this like a baby? Fucking man up, Izuku! You have a game to play, asshole. Ball’s in your court, so what’s your move?”

His mind whirls, gears turning. You’re probably halfway to the station, he knows how fast you run. Especially from him, always, always him.

“Oi, shitface!” Katsuki spits, red eyes blazing with fire from the Underworld. “What’s. Your. Move?”

A sharp bolt stabs his cornea, making him writhe in agony. Kacchan’s yelling recedes into the background, his mind sprouting words like it was trivia night on Saturday.

White lies, eyes, smiles, laughs—

He squeezes his eyes shut, pain blooming.

Starlight, Zuku, Secrets—

He gasps, unable to breathe.

Sketcheswillowtreesforgetmenots—

His mind glitches, and images flash. A lush forest that’s always lathered in colour, beautiful branches like streamers with a lake as pure as waters from springs.

Almost instantaneously, One For All crackles from the ends of his hair to the tips of his toes. Izuku tosses himself out of Kacchan’s grip, eyes wild and frenzied. “I need—” He cuts himself off. “I need to go.”

He zips past Kacchan, and bolts out the door.

Fuck the bus, he’d get there faster on foot. He knows exactly where he’s going, because he’s going back to where it all started.

Back to the memories that resided in your glade.

—

The overcast sky greets your gaze as your hero partner frowns. “Oh, man, it’s gonna rain!” She wails, lamenting the bad weather. You look up, watching the sun disappear behind the curtain of grey clouds.

What’s a little bit of pain without a little bit of rain?

—

Izuku never ran so fast in his life. He’s probably a flying, leaping safety hazard, but he doesn’t care. Stormy clouds roll in, as the sun bids farewell for the day. The news drones on about the rainy forecast prediction. 

Yeah, no shit. He thinks, as one drop lands on his jacket.

Not a minute later, it pours.

Trespassing seems like a small feat too, as he leaps over the fence and stumbles. He doesn’t fall, though The rain makes everything slippery, so it’s a fight for balance as he reroutes his way to his destination like his body is a satellite.

The voice, your voice, gets louder and louder as he nears the clearing. It’s splitting his skull in half, and he’s fighting to keep himself from doubling over.

“Save you—”

“I’m so sorry—”

“Come back to me—”

Gritting his teeth, his hand brushes past the leaves that reveal the toneless clearing that you’d adored so much. It’s so bare, without its colour. A step forward is all it takes for his legs to buckle, forcing him to kneel as his hands trace the willow tree’s rough bark.

“Who are you?” “I’m Y/n! What’s your name?”

“Race you!”

“I’ll call you Zuku! It’s shorter, and nicer!”

Wax on bone, flesh peeling and blood dripping. He screams, loud and broken, the pain more than he could ever imagine.

“I’m not a transfer, I’m not a stranger—”

“Izuku, please—”

“I love your eyes.”

“I love your smile.”

“Don’t leave, Zuku. Stay here with me.”

“I love you.”

The world is burning, and upside down, right? The cool pitter-patter on his skin feels like acid, oh, make it stop, please make it—

Tit for tat, this for that. A brother for a brother, and pain for bits and scraps.

You want to find your memories? I understand. My Quirk is simple, very simple. Pain is not worth the weight of knowledge.

The world goes dead silent, as his heartbeat thumps in his chest. Erratic, frantic, as the world seemingly explodes. Izuku isn’t so sure if he’s dying, though it certainly feels like it.

“I love you.”

The words thrum in Izuku’s head like a martyr, echoed in your voice at all different ages. Fragmented across different timelines, the world stops, and along with it, silence engulfs his being.

He blinks, and he’s standing in front of the wall again. It’s fragmented so badly, his breath hitches at the beautifully ugly sight.

In the silence’s place, is the faint but distinct sound of a heart monitor beeping.

Izuku looks up to see the wall crack once more, and shatter in front of his very own eyes.

Your trade is sufficient.

In return, I’ll return you everything that was once yours.

—

It all happens instantaneously. Suddenly, someone dials the decibel level back up to max, and Izuku’s memories arrive like a mountain avalanche. 

He jerks his head up, the ringing in his head fading as he’s thrown back into the world of senses. The rain pours, and the thunder booms.

His mind feels comfortably full, sharper, and he’s horrified he didn’t realise how empty it was in the first place.

“Oh, Starlight,” He whispers, voice wobbly as he sorts through the different years. So many things make sense now, from your words to actions and your expressions that always screamed help me. A hand comes up to cover his mouth as he lines the memories with gold. He’s been so daft this entire time, and you—

Guilt rises to his mouth and it tastes awfully like bile. It’s getting very difficult to breathe.

How could I ever forget you?

Arms wrapped around himself, he lets out a strangled cry, shame chewing him up more and more because this? This was what you went through? 7 years of obliviousness, white lies, and a whole-ass relationship that he was never meant to have with Ochaco. 7 years of putting up to him, clinging to him, oh gosh, this year was such a dumpster fire—

“I love you.” Your voice rings in his head, and his words pile on top of each other in his throat. The revelation is warm sunlight in the cold shower of rain, and he sobs when he finally understands the gravity of them. 

I love you, even if I can only have different facades of yourself.

I love you, so I’ll chase you as long as I have to.

I love you, even though you will never love me back.

“I love you too,” He whispers brokenly, gathering up the pieces of his ruined memories in scarred hands. “I’ve always loved you.”

It was always meant to be you, that’s why nothing ever felt right.

From the times you brought him your bentos in middle school when the bullies would throw his own away, to the times you sat there with him for hours. Those times you never said anything but just listened to him, made him feel heard and respected and—

loved.

Izuku knew he was whipped the moment the nickname ‘Zuku’ sprouted from your mouth in that sandbox all those years ago.

Can’t even survive a Quirk Accident right, some love, he scoffs at himself, staggering as he pulls himself to his feet.

Your trade is sufficient. The voice at the back of his mind reminds him, causing blood to drain from his face. There’s only so long that you can overlook one factor, and this one was a ticking time bomb that got his brain throbbing and searching hungrily for the answer.

What exactly has he traded?

His phone alarm blares in his pocket, causing him to fumble with it as it automatically starts to play the latest news.

“—Currently facing off against a villain! Two of them, although it’s difficult to see as one of them has a wind manipulation Quirk. It seems he’s at least partially responsible for the storm right now. Hero/n and Everblaze continue to push for the capture of the villain behind the recent cases police cases of officers found waking up unable to feel joy—”

All colour drains from his face. There’s nothing more that needs to be said. He pockets his phone, fires up One For All, and leaps for the city.

Izuku’s lost you once. He refuses to lose you again.

—

Seeing Chisuke tastes like shit. Not that you would know or anything, but this is how you’d imagine shit would taste like.

Izuku was right, of course he was.

Chisuke was here for you.

You dodge the incoming blow swiftly, back to back of your senior. The rain pours, but it doesn’t stop the attack, because you’re a lighthouse in a storm.

“This lot is targeting you, Hero/n, what did you do?” Everblaze grits, flipping her smoke bomb of to buy time.

“Something stupid that involved crashing into a man at age 10.” You mutter, hands lighting up with your Quirk.

She curses, before reporting to comms. “Hero/n and Everblaze on the scene, requesting for backup now!”

“The guy with the knife, get him first.” You say, a strange calm settling under your skin as you navigate through this with professionalism and detachment. “He’s the most dangerous, in terms of long-term setbacks.”

You never know when he’s going to strike. A warped version of Toga, but at least Toga loved her victims. This person…he just liked stabbing people and getting revenge.

With the precision of a neurosurgeon, you toss the man sneaking up on you over your shoulder pinning him to the ground.

Cold blue eyes stare up at you, with a twisted smirk framing his face. He’s older than you last saw him, stubble growing fuzzy under his chin and hair shaggy in the rain.

“Starlight, I found you!” He breathes, cackling you when you twist his arm behind his back. The laughter will forever haunt your nightmares. “I finally found you…”

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss, digging your elbow into him even more. Everblaze’s voice is radio static in your ear.

“Deal with Knifey, I’ll manage the Whirlwind!”

“Copy,” You grit out, struggling to hold him down. “Backup ETA?”

“10 minutes, counting!”

A flash of silver flickers in your peripheral, and you lunge back the minute he takes a swing at you. Water makes you slip, and he contorts his body, pulling yours forward as he lifts up his knife and—

Your thoughts evaporate like steam over a hot pot. He wedges the dagger between your shoulder blade, and its acid corroding your bones. Grunting, you yank his knife out of your shoulder, tossing it to the side. 

You look back just in time to see him pocketing a vial of your blood.

“Two more to go!” He cackles over the thunder as he brandishes a shiny new knife.

Dread pulls in your gut as you clasp your shoulder. Water makes the blood runny, and if it weren’t for the adrenaline, the pain would have exploded like fireworks on the 4th of July.

“Backup 8 minutes!”

The rain drones on. Donning dirty clothes and an ugly smile, he looks feral, crazy, and the determination behind his voice rivals yours.

“Pay your price, Starlight!” He yells, eyes gleaming. “Give my brother back!”

What comes around goes around. The tables have turned, and the roles have swapped. The water blurs your blood into a murky red, and you grind out your response.

“No can do, Chisuke.”

You don’t have the heart of gold Izuku does. The heart to understand, to hear him out or try to empathise. Maybe for other villains, but this was too close to home.

You move expertly, but with his wild knife swings that looked random but were deadly accurate, you’re forced on defence and the back-burner. Kacchan would be so mad because you aren’t moving well. Your defenses are sloppy and the rain makes everything worse. You feel like you’re back in year 1 again, still a fragile bird learning how to fly.

Even still, you’re wearing him down because of the puffs of his breaths that are ragged and rushed. Good, you think, just as the knife lunges too close.

Oh, shit–

There’s another stabbing, and you kick him off just as he grazes you with his knife. Blood drips from your cheek, and you bite your lip when the pain flares.

“That’s two!” He beams, knife dripping red.

“Back up ETA 5 minutes!” screams the voice in your ear.

I don’t have five minutes, shit I don’t even know if I have one! You want to scream, but you know you have to pull this out. Quickly surveying the field for something useful, you hastily grab a discarded metal rod from a broken fence just as he’s about to plunge the dagger into you. It collides with a clang, and now that you see his face up close, you see the myriad of emotions flashing across his face like a light show. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, and refuse to feel a thing.

No feelings, no pain, no feelings, no pain—

“You should be grateful,” He whispers, eyes wide with light. He genuinely believes that he’s helping you. “I see it in your eyes, that agony and sorrow…you want it all gone, and I can help you with that.”

Panic shoots up your legs like it’s water from a fire hydrant, but you hold firm. It’s difficult to see in the pouring rain, but his expression is too hard to miss. “You don’t have to hurt anymore, isn’t that great?” He says, rain falling like confetti on someone’s birthday.

“You don’t have to love anymore.”

You hate how deep his words cut.

Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think—

Pain explodes in your abdomen as your eyes widen. Chisuke deflects your rod with ease.

It isn’t his knife in your chest.

“Three.” He whispers, smile widening further.

There’s a small body behind you, one lithe and quick. The face doesn’t even look at you. “Got her, boss, just as you said.”

It isn’t the Whirlwind guy.

There was a third? You think helplessly, staggering as the knife is drawn from your chest. Maybe if you’d had been more observe, better prepared, you would have caught it.

But you weren’t and now, you’re paying the price

Not vital, of course not, he doesn’t want me to die—

Your hands burn with blisters, and when you look down, they’re coated in red.

“No—” You lunge forward, but your legs buckle beneath you like your body is nothing but lead.

The ringing in your ears blooms, along with the pitter-patter of the rain. “What did I tell you, Starlight?” He coos, fingers locking around the final vial.

“I don’t miss twice.”

—

Izuku arrives on the scene and sees you drenched in blood.

“Sir, please, I need your ID—oh! Deku—” The police officer stumbles over his words in surprise, apologising profusely, but his eyes never leave your frame.

His heart rate racks up, and he’s staggering to your lifeless body with his world falling apart around him. No.

He starts to run, slipping on wet tiles as he stumbles to your side, your blood tainting his hands.

“Starlight,” He whispers, checking your pulse in a desperate attempt to convince himself you are alive. It’s weak, but it’s all he gets and isn’t a cause for celebration. 

You don’t look fine at all.

Red soaks your entire body, battered up and bruised as your shoulder twists at an awkward angle.

“No, no, no…” He yanks his jacket off and covers the nasty gash on your stomach. There’s water running down his face, but it isn’t rain.

“She’s still alive,” calls a voice. Izuku whips his head to the source, and finds himself staring at smug blue. “It wouldn’t be any fun if Starlight dies from this.”

The whole world is painted red.

Chisuke looks at him, pearly whites glistening as the rain dampens his ragged hoodie further.

“Do you like my birthday present, Izuku?”

He may be in Quirk cancellation cuffs, being sentenced to a hell worse than his brother but he looks so happy.

“Why would you do this?” He whispers, pulling you closer. His voice is wobbly, soaked to the bone in rain. The last time he felt this defeated was when he lost Kacchan to the League over two years ago.

Look at this, a voice in his head whispers.

You’ve lost Starlight too.

“If you wanna say anything to her, you should do it now!” He yells from the police car, getting shoved in. “I hope you like my gift.”

Izuku’s breathing is all that he hears, as he stares desperately down at you and your wounds, your face, everything, everything, everything—

This is all my fault.

“Zuku…?” You cough, eyes wandering and searching for his. His heart jumpstarts to life. “Hey, don’t say anything,” He shushes, trying to project a smile. It’s too shaky to pass off as one.

Your eyes find his, and a lazy smile spreads across your face. “Hey, it’s you,” You whisper, eyes so bright they could be stars in the sky. “You’re Zuku.”

Raindrops splatter around you, diluting your blood and hiding your body. Izuku almost breaks on the spot. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” He says, holding you tightly in his arms. “I’m back, Starlight.”

The smile on your face doesn’t widen, but the tears that fall are painfully washed away. You’ve done such a good job all these years, always his ray of sunshine. Now, he’s seeing all your feelings suppressed underneath. 

“Welcome back,” You wheeze, as if it’s difficult to speak. It probably is.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

This isn’t how it was supposed to end.

Your trade is sufficient.

In return, I’ll return everything that was once yours.

Izuku shakes his head, a sob bubbling against his throat.

“I never meant for this to happen.”

You force out a laugh, and then wince in pain. Izuku misses your laughs. “I’m the one that got stabbed, so stop crying, you crybaby.”

“But you were never supposed to go through this.” He whispers, cradling you gently, but hugging you tight. “I’m so sorry, Starlight. For not knowing, for not trying to know, just…oh God, when I think about it, I want to slap myself so hard, get Kacchan to Howitzer Impact me a couple of times too when we get back. I didn’t know, and I hurt you so, so badly.” He inhales, looking around, eyes surveying his surroundings. Frustration builds, and his desperation grows. “Goddammit, where’s the ambulance? Why aren’t they here yet?”

Hurry up, save my Starlight.

“Zuku, it isn’t your fault,” You rasp. His first love is someone strong enough to move hearts on the daily, and has patience that spans as wide as the Pacific Ocean. His first love is someone extraordinary, even though no one will acknowledge it as deeply as Izuku will.

“Starlight—” Izuku chokes, watching your eyes go glassy. “I love you.”

I love you so much, please, please, please, please—

There, where the wind blows strong, and Izuku’s eyes spill tears, you reply with a breathtaking smile.

“I love you too.”

His lip trembles, and he does his best to shield you from the rain.

“Zuku?” You whisper, voice cracking like spoilt leather.

“I’m tired.”

The life is slipping from your eyes, and Izuku shuts his eyes and tries to find the right words to say. “I know, Starlight, just hang on a little longer. You can do it.”

Your voice is thick with a sob. “I don’t wanna stop loving you.”

There’s a fire that lights in Izuku, as he clenches your body tighter.

“Then don’t go,” He says, voice a whisper. “Stay with me.”

The tables have turned, and now it’s his turn to say those words. Please don’t go. Stay.

Your eyes shift upwards to the sky. Even through the rain, stars peek out from behind the clouds, mapping out a land unknown.

“The stars,” You rasp. “They’re so beautiful tonight.”

Izuku’s laugh is endearing, clogged up with snot. “They are. You’re prettier, though.”

You look at him, eyes pearling with tears. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” You heave, eyes ever-gentle and love everlasting. “But it’s so nice to see you again.” You murmur, breath shaky.

“ ‘m love you, Zuku,” you whispers, breath floating out from your lips like an angle from above. Your eyes shut, and you don’t reopen them to meet his gaze.

The sobs that are jamming in his throat bubble over, and he weeps, and cries and screams because you were never meant to be coated in red like this.

Your trade is sufficient.

In return, I’ll return everything that was once yours.

“Why?” he wails miserably.

Why did I have to lose you to find me?

—

Your heart beats steadily, as someone screams in the background.

And then all of a sudden, a rope snaps.

A torch snuffs out, and plunges the world into darkness.

—

The trip back to U.A is a beaten path. It’s 2 buses from the Central Hospital and a hundred metres from the school entrance. You open the double doors to dorms, only to be bombarded by your classmates whispering sentiments of worry and concern.

“Oh, Y/n, thank God you’re okay!” Ochaco fusses over you like a second mom, and the others all give you relieved smiles and offers to help you catch up with homework.

There’s a boy edging the group, barely inside your peripheral. He’s a boy with green eyes and a heart made of gold, someone you’re supposed to care for very, very deeply. Your mouth opens as you lock eyes with him, drawing up feelings that you knew were once your entire world.

You draw a blank, and grasp at nothing.

“Welcome back,” Izuku says quietly. You look…better, albeit after being brutally stabbed. Your eye bags are slowly disappearing, and you look lighter than you had ever been before.

Your mouth shifts upwards to a smile, and it feels genuine for the first time in a long time.

“Yeah,” You say, giving him a half smile.

Ochaco drags you over to the couch and distracts you with food. You hold his eye contact for a moment, before breaking it in favour of food.

Huh, you wonder, the weight of love dispersing into the soil down, down below.

What a strange, foolish person I was, falling in love with him.

[redlegumes]

Steddiemas Day One

December 1st - Deck the Halls

Buying and decorating a tree, decorating the house, hanging lights, mistletoes, holiday display wars, etc.

@steddiemas

Going to do my best to write/draw some fun things for these but this first prompt matched really well with a recent fic of mine If it's Just till St. Patrick's Day

(I understand since it's not *new* it may not get reblogged)

2023 RedLegumes Steddiemas 1 2 3 4 5 6 10 SteddieHolidayDrabbles 1 2 3 4 6 8 9 10

⍋↟⍋⋆꙳•̩❅‧͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⍋↟⍋ The end of November crept up sooner than Eddie'd expected. Anyone around and available was invited to go tree cutting with the Byers. It was a whole thing involving saws, a Christmas tree farm, and copious amounts of hot chocolate. Eddie got some cut greenery himself, with the thought that it wouldn’t hurt to have a little solstice spirit.

After what felt like an impossible task, finding a tree that Will, El, and Joyce all liked (Hopper and Max being the indifferent parties), they finally chose one. After all of Max's sass and sarcasm, wandering the hillside for the perfect pine, she and Lucas were elected tree cutters. They both came away sticky with sap and the others promptly stuck crap they found to them. They ended up covered in pine needles, old receipts, and candy bar wrappers much to everyone else's amusement. Hopper, Eddie, and Steve hauled the tree back down to the farm's outpost to be wrapped and strapped to the roof of their SUV.

Eddie knew his arrangement with Steve wasn't one they necessarily wanted to share with the family. It was frankly, a bit more sexual than he wanted to explain. Steve had mentioned something similar on Black Friday. But Eddie had always been flirty with Steve… Stopping now would be suspicious, he thought smugly. So Eddie stayed flirty and found himself rewarded. Passing cocoa, brushing hands, getting tugged back into the trees for chocolatey tasting kisses... Eddie felt full of crackling fire that Steve kept building.

Mature after the cut - Explicit on AO3 ノ¬‿¬ ノ ⋆꙳•̩❅‧͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

Steve had driven, and there was an understanding that they were headed back to his place that night. Eddie hopped in the passenger's seat after 'goodbyes' and profuse 'thank yous' to the Byers-Hopper fam for including them. It was a bit of a drive to get back to Hawkins, part of why they had 'carpooled’ together.

When they got on the road again, Eddie began to fiddle with the stereo, and Steve staunchly insisted on no Christmas music until December officially began the next day.

Eddie held his hands up off the console in surrender. "Wasn't gonna baby girl.”

After a long drive with Eddie and Steve approved tunes, they reached Steve's place. He pulled the Beemer into a detached garage not far from what appeared to be the home it belonged to. Eddie followed Steve out of the garage as he closed the door behind them. They used the stairs on the outside of the building to climb up and enter Steve's 'studio' apartment above. Steve entered first and briefly stood awkwardly at the door while Eddie walked in. Looking around, Eddie was just thankful the bathroom had a door. There was a small fridge, stovetop, and microwave with some cabinets along the back wall that counted as the ‘kitchen.’ The sad excuse for a kitchenette very much looked to have been slapped together and attached to that wall as an afterthought. There was no way the small shower/toilet space was up to any sort of building code either.

Eddie looked around, and while Steve appeared to have kept it clean it was… "So fucking ugly."

"Yeah. Apparently the owner finished this space as a room for his son when he was a teen." Steve ran a hand over the plaid wallpaper. "That was in the 80s. Guy left it exactly as his son had it." Steve's smile looked forlorn. "But it was furnished and cheap and wasn't the back of my car. So…" Steve gestured around the space.

Eddie kissed her on the cheek and poked around while Steve took off her boots and jacket. He saw a few femme pieces that hung in the open wardrobe, a couple of tops and way in back what looked like a sundress. Eddie felt as though his heart strings had been directly tugged, and hard at that.

He turned back to look at her, sitting on the bed, watching him. Her hair brushed her shoulders, all bounce and shine. She is such a sun kissed babe… Eddie already thought Steve was beautiful. One hundred percent Earth angel vibes. Now why the fuck am I wandering around when I could be wrapped around her right now? He kicked off his own shoes by the door and shrugged off his coat, onto the floor. Eddie waltzed over, straddled her legs, and sat onto Steve’s lap. He kissed her with the fire burning in him still. The fire they built up that evening from all those small touches out in the crisp, piney air.

Steve worked her hands up under Eddie's shirt and touched all the scars he never did. She worked the shirt off, over his head, and began kissing his chest. She rested her lips against his nipple before pausing and looking back up at him. Big brown eyes through long lashes.

"Christ, baby. What's that look supposed to mean?"

"Mmmm just wondering how sensitive your nipples are. Do you like them played with?"

"Angel, I'll get 'em pierced for you if you like, just don't stop kissing me?" He already ached to have her keep going. Steve batted her eyelashes and licked his nipple. Her tongue was pointed as she played with the hard tip. Circling and practically flicking it. "Fuck," Eddie murmured. It was definitely working for him. Steve seemed to like his response as she lightly sucked it, carefully setting her teeth on his nip to pull back gently. He moaned, and she bucked up against him. So this is turning her on too.

"Can you take me tonight gorgeous," she asked.

"I can try…" Eddie hesitated. He wasn't prepped to bottom, but Steve hadn't seemed to care that much before…

Steve read it on his face. She laid a hand on Eddie’s cheek. “You can go do whatever you think you need, but I don't… um don't worry about being… ah, pristine?"

Eddie giggled and got up off her lap. "I don't think anyone has ever called me pristine, princess. But I'll be back with you in a minute."

He watched her blush deepen when he said princess. She seems to really like the right gendered terms. Good to know. He did a quick clean in Steve's terribly tight bathroom and came back out to see her standing, waiting for him. Nude. She held a condom up.

Eddie bit his lip. "You're negative."

"Yes."

"And I trust you."

"Sounds like a question.” Steve laughed and shook her head. "It's not a problem."

Eddie stared longer at the circular package. "Wait." He walked over to her and relieved her of the prophylactic, tossing it onto the nearby desk. "I want to, bare."

Steve's eyes widened a little as their arms worked around one another. They pulled each other in closely, chest to chest. "I've never been in without one."

"Even girls?"

"Especially girls," Steve chuckled.

Eddie took in a deep breath and pulled out of Steve’s embrace. He began to strip the clothes he still had on. “That's a perk to this whole exclusive hookup deal right? So let's go for it.” Eddie bent over, braced on the bed. “Like this okay?"

Steve’s eyes raked over him, slack jawed. “Uh, yeah. If you’re comfortable?”

Eddie laughed. “I don’t want you to comfort me angel. I want you to fuck me.”

Keep reading on AO3

[tactlesstuesdays]

so i wrote smthn (one chapter) ages ago for this fic idea i had with teacher bose and parent mika so in absence of my writing, have this old piece of work that i don't like

Bose had never wanted to be a teacher. Seriously. The profession had never once crossed any corner of his mind. It's just that when he got to University, there had been a teacher training course and he'd thought fuck it. He was informed he had the capability (something he'd never been told before; he was basically putty in the Head of Education's hands then) and he took a course in Education and learnt to teach the youth. Because how hard could it be?

Of course, he knows now how hard it is. He's addicted to coffee, his eyes permanently glazed over until his body is buzzing with the addictive caffeine. Parents never have any spatial awareness because no, he doesn't want to discuss their kid's behaviour at nine in the evening. Plus, Bose has never enjoyed being the centre of attention. He's cried at every single birthday party he's ever had and his parents just kept on inviting more and more and more. It got him the nickname Blubbering Bose; not his finest moment, definitely.

Though it wasn't all bad. At any holiday, he'd trek home with his baskets full to the brim of chocolates, candies, anything festive at all, and a favourite teacher mug. Since he started teaching, he's never had to buy any of his own mugs. Some kids are genuinely surprising, too; it was no surprise to have a few nutcases or bad eggs, but an academically thriving child was a rainbow after a fucking storm. Sure, he only taught second grade, but he knew a brain box when he met one. Like this one kid, 'Theo' was an absolute whizz, destined to be one of the greats and, if given the chance, could teach the class a whole lot better than Bose could. Bose had only known the kid for one semester (his old school offered a lower salary than his current one, so a transfer was inevitable), but he was incredible. Just like she was, presumably, still is. Bose hoped she was doing well.

But all of that couldn't efface the day every teacher dreads. Parent's evening. It'd be alright if the parents didn't consider themselves as entitled snobs just because they didn't choose to teach as a profession. Bose is half way certain that if they could, they'd make him eat his degree and overall regret his entire higher education. He tends to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Too kind for your own good.

Bose pauses. Stuck at this classroom's sink. His mug half haphazardly lowered in the sink, coffee still swimming in it. He loathed the way her voice sounds now. Distorted and ugly. Something that his memory doesn't allow her to be. She could've broken his bones. Over and over. Could've broken every single 206 of them and he'd have still crumpled at her feet and beg forgiveness. She wouldn't allow him, though. Too kind to be wicked. Too ambitious to stay. He rolls his head on his neck, enjoying the low crack that follows. She wasn't wicked. He had to stop portraying her like that.

Bose crashes his cup down with a thud before deserting the sink. His mind still swirling. The room is loud and eerily echoing with the parents muddled in the room and teachers verbally bashing children politely, or atleast as much as they can. Bose forces a tight line on his lips to avoid a harsh bark of laughter. He glances down with shaking hands at the stack of papers. Ranging from actual important information on the children to drawings done secretly in lesson time that they can't scold for because it would hinder creativity. Bose clicks his tongue. The kids couldn't even draw a stickman if they wanted to.

With his brows furrowed, his eyes begin to brush the children's printed names, blurring red lines pierced through all the previous names. A name sits neatly on the page 'Theodore Buckley'. The grin that frames his cheeks in a precise crease is implausible. Theodore is easy to brag about. He doesn't know the parents' names. Theodore doesn't talk much about them. Refusing to if mentioned. And if Bose was to overhear Theo's conversation, only his Mom would receive a pedestal. His father was vacant in everything.

A sharp and unexpected cough pierced the silence that had started to swarm Bose. Bose's heart leapt to choke his throat and his fingers froze. He cautiously raised his head to the source of the sound. His face automatically slack and his eyes bulging out of the sockets.

Shit.

"Mika?"

[wardenred]

Sapphic September 1: Portal Fantasy

A maybe excerpt, maybe AU from a YA novel I swear I'll finish someday.

I sit cross-legged on the bed, wrapped in a cocoon of towels and blankets, and I can’t believe this is really happening. Everything is so ordinary. The flowers and the white picket fence behind the window. The soft electric light from the lamp on Claudia’s desk. The cat sleeping on the hamburger-shaped beanbag in the corner. The closed laptop, the bookshelves, the Lego clown grinning at me from the nightstand. The pale beige wallpaper in the gaps between indie band posters. Everything here is fabric and wood, messy and cozy. A forgotten dream of a place. I barely recognize it.

The door hinges groan softly, and my attention immediately snaps to the source of the sound. Claudia tiptoes in, carrying a large steaming mug, her lips pursed tightly in concentration. She’s wearing an oversized blue shirt and those bunny slippers I bought for her as a joke. It’s weird to see them still so new. So fuzzy. Just like her sleep-tousled hair.

Everything about Claudia is exactly as I remember her. That can only mean that I’m hallucinating, or dreaming, or under the influence of yet another toxic brew. Because it makes no sense, does it? Something must have changed. Her hairstyle. Her weight. Anything.

The mattress dips as she perches carefully on the edge of the bed. She offers me the mug. “Here. I even found a pack of marshmallows.”

It takes me a moment to figure out how to react. “Thank you.” My voice is hoarse, barely recognizable to my own ears. I clear my throat. Take the mug. Stare into it. Melting blobs of marshmallow float over the chocolate foam, like wave crests on a muddy brown sea. The heat from the mug seeps into my palms. The drink smells like home.

Claudia clears her throat. “So,” she says, “do you want to tell me what happened?”

And I do, so much, but I don’t know what I can tell her. All I know is I’m so grateful she wants to know. That she has let me in. Recognized me.

How is she still the same?

“I…” I draw a breath, and the marshmallow waves shift when I let it out. “Maybe it would be easier if you, um, asked specific questions?”

“Specific questions,” she repeats slowly. “Well, I don’t know, Sarah, let’s see. My girlfriend disappears without a trace for the entire weekend, then shows up in my back garden in the middle of the night, soaking wet and completely out of it. Gee. I don’t even know. I think my most specific question at this point is, What the fuck?”

I open my mouth to answer, and then her words register with me. One word, to be exact. Weekend. My hands go numb. The mug tilts. A few brown drops land on the pastel tartan comforter.

To think I was seriously worried if she still lived in her parents' house and had the same room there. The entire way from the lake, there had been one thought in my mind: Claud may have left for college by now.

One weekend. Jeez. How?

"Sarah." Claudia leans forward and places a hand on the side of my knee. I can barely feel the touch through all the blankets, but I still soak in the warmth of her presence. "Seriously. What happened? I was worried sick. I thought—" She swallows. "I thought you were abducted. Like Sammy."

"Sammy was never abducted," I say automatically.

But I was. Abducted, or kidnapped, or stolen away in the night—whatever words I choose, they won't change the ugly truth of what happened.

"Did you talk to Sammy?" I blurt, before she can ask anything else. For half of my unwanted adventure, Sammy had been the one person I thought of most. Surely my twin will come looking for me. She's the only one who can. And besides, it's her fault. And she is my twin. 

"I tried," Claudia says with a grimace. "I went to your house on Saturday, to see if you've been home. She... wasn't exactly forthcoming."

I swallow. Sammy doesn't like Claud, I know, but. But. There's something about this that makes the tangle of anxiety and fear in my gut tighten up further.

"Could you... elaborate?"

She frowns, and I hate that I'm putting so many sad, hurt expressions on her face. I want to be the reason she smiles. The person who makes her eyes light up and sparkle like the pond waters in the twilight, when all the stars are out already reflecting in them. All this time—all this weekend, apparently—I've been thinking about her smiles. The happy and open ones when she's having fun. The small smug ones when she wins a prize, or gets a compliment for a job well done, or gets singled out in a group for her accomplishments. The soft, hazy, sleep-painted ones in the mornings that she reserves just for me.

"To be honest," Claudia says slowly, and I push myself to focus, "I would much prefer it if you answered my questions first. But, okay, whatever. She was acting super weird. She tried to convince me you came straight home with her after Pete's party, like she was taking me for a fool. Then she said you were asleep. Then she just kept repeating I was unwelcome and overstepping and you would hate me for poking my nose into your business—"

"I would never!"

She squeezes my knee through the blankets, and finally, there's a hint of a smile. "Anyway. Eventually, your Grandma showed up and took over, and then I somehow ended up eating pancakes with Sammy and her on your back porch. That was... not even the weirdest part, to be honest."

Pancakes. My throat tightens. I can't help but remember the last time Grandma sat me down for some oddly shaped pancakes. Right after I first realized Sammy was lying to me about where she'd been all summer. Right when I got close to the truth about the Veil and the Other Places for the first time, only to be shoved in the opposite direction.

"What... what was the really weird part?"

Claud's dark green eyes harden. "The one, I guess, where I left your house utterly convinced that I saw you leave the party with Sammy. That you may or may not be going away to visit some non-existent relatives, but that's none of my business. That you and I have in fact broken up because you did something so terrible I'd better not even try to recall it. And I just walked around believing all this bullshit until I cracked my journal open in the evening, so please, Sarah, will you explain to me what the fuck is going on?"

Her journal. Can it really be so simple? Would any record of pre-enchantment events suffice, or is it all about the power of the written word? I file the thought away for later. I inhale, exhale, exhale again. The steam from the mug curls lower against its rim. I take a few sips and set the rest on the nightstand, then scoot closer to Claudia.

"This is going to be really hard to believe," I warn, my chin on her shoulder. "But I swear I'll only be telling the truth. I should have told you the truth a long time ago."

And then I explain it all: about the Veil, and where Sammy went, and where they took me. If I make it a little too long-winded, it's just because I'm afraid to stop talking too soon.

If she does think I'm crazy, I'd rather not know for as long as possible.

[buriedinleather]

home is where the heart aches [ ghost x soap one-shot fanfic ]

Summary : Ghost stopped loving Christmas long before he realized his father had never loved him. It took Simon Riley a lot longer to catch up. Slow on the draw as his old man would say— if that piece of shit were still alive, he’d laugh if he knew that weak little kid still drove around cities with his nephew’s stuffie in the back seat.

Ship : Simon 'Ghost' Riley & Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

Wordcount : 1034

Content Warnings: Hurt / Comfort, references to character death, references to child abuse, angst with a happy ending

Find my work on Archive or read under the cut!

Ghost stopped loving Christmas long before he realized his father had never loved him. It took Simon Riley a lot longer to catch up. Slow on the draw as his old man would say— if that piece of shit were still alive, he’d laugh if he knew that weak little kid still drove around cities with his nephew’s stuffie in the back seat. For safety, of course. 

Ghost couldn’t bear to look at that beat-up, dirty stegosaurus plushie for too long. Even now, it feels like eyes are on him. Jacob, Tommy, the lot of them. Still dead as ever. Ahead of him the road twists and turns, the city's lights a bright haze as one hand grips the wheel and the other a spoonful of chocolate vanilla swirl ice cream. It’s half melted as it sits in the cup holder. 

Blue lights.

“Blue ones, yeah.” 

He makes a turn a little too sharp, distracted by blindly trying to dip the spoon into the ice cream cup. The crunch of ice and snow snaps him back to the present. 

“Was mum’s favorite color.” 

He doesn’t really know why he bothers talking to himself. Or whatever else is in there. Sometimes there’s a reply, sometimes there isn’t

A particularly colorful display catches his eye. The storefront of a toyshop. Vintage, large bulbs line the frame of the windows. Inside he can see a beautiful tree that’s somehow withstanding what appears to be hundreds of ornaments.  

He rolls the car to a stop and rolls down the windows. A gust of wind hits him hard enough that he has to squint. The cashier sweeping the inside of the store glances at him at least three times. Not that Ghost can really blame him. Mask puts off a lot of people.

His fingers tremble a little before he grabs the half-finished cup of ice cream. The next time the cashier gives him an awkward glance, he raises the cup of ice cream as if to toast him. After that, the cashier pays him no mind.

Ghost lets the Jeep idle as he finishes up the ice cream. The second cup will go untouched. Like it does every year, it’ll sit in the cupholder until Christmas Day passes.

Another gust of wind hits him and he lets out a shaky breath. This is all bullshit. Tradition is bullshit. Joseph is dead in the ground just like the rest of them.

“Sorry I didn’t get you anything this year, kid.” 

Turning off the car and grabbing the keys, he hops out and throws the empty cup into a near full trash bin. It reeks. The street lights streak across his vision. Ghost rubs the bridge of his nose. Behind him, in the distance, footsteps. The crunch of snow. A slow, lazy pace.

Ghost’s mental walls slam back up as he turns, keeping his movements slow and fluid. As he looks toward the footsteps, he swears his heart nearly jolts out of his chest.

“ Johnny��?” 

How much had he seen? Fuck. Fuck . 

“Ghost!” The man wears a smile better than Monroe could wear a dress. Tentative, nervous, but still has that natural warmth that Ghost can’t get enough of. “I, uh, honestly didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“I grew up here.” He keeps the reply short as he glances him up and down. An ugly sweater featuring a cat’s ass up, digging into a Christmas box. Well-fitted jeans. Leather boots. “Why’re you here, MacTavish. Make it good.” He doesn’t mean to sound angry. Doesn’t even know why his heart keeps hammering away.

“Ah dinnae ken…” Soap looks sheepish as he looks away, rubbing at the back of his neck. Ghost can see the blush travel from his cheeks down to his throat. “Family’s been a little rough lately. Figured, I don’t know— It’s stupid.” He settles once he’s a good six feet away from Ghost, still not meeting his gaze.

Something’s not right here. He can feel it in the same way he feels like he wants to peel off his own skin when the lamppost flickers. “Johnny.” He grabs his shoulder and squeezes. “Tell me. That’s an order.” 

Soap swallows hard before looking up at him. “Y’know, my family just…it’s been hard this year. They said I’ve been different. Making people uncomfortable. That I’ve changed. I don’t think I’ve changed, you know? It still feels like me— but they just. Kept treating me like they just know somethin’ is wrong, you know? Fuck, shit, okay, I’m rambling— Sorry, L.T.” 

His eyelashes shadow his eyes as he tilts his head down. “I just wanted to feel close to someone special, too. I didn’t want to bother him because I know the holidays are hard, but. I don’t know. I figured if I was here, in this country, then maybe it wouldn’t feel like we were worlds apart, you know?” 

Ghost holds onto Soap’s shoulder a little tighter.  “What kind of fucking idiot stood you up for the holidays?” 

Soap pauses, nose wrinkling a little, and then he laughs. He laughs so hard that it echoes in the streets. “Jesus Christ— Simon . Do you really need me to say it? After all we’ve been through?” His cheeks are even rosier now. Ghost remains silent. Staring. Waiting. “I’m talking about you, Simon. It’s always been you.” 

Something in his brain clicks into place when he’s called that. Simon. Simon Riley. It’s been a long time. “Me. Right.” His voice is softer. Doesn’t carry as much weight as it usually does. When Simon looks down at Johnny, he can’t find anything in his eyes that’s insincere. Bright, glassy, hopeful . 

Ghost lets silence hang in the air. Three seconds, ten, then twenty. “Get in the car. If you ask questions, your ass is hitting the nearest slush pile.” 

When Johnny smiles Ghost swears the wind is a little less cold. “No problem, L.T. I’m just happy to be here.” 

They get in the car together, Ghost opening the front passenger side for Johnny before getting in himself. 

If home is where the heart aches, then Simon must have been home the moment he laid eyes on one Johnny “Soap” MacTavish. 

[munsons-maiden]

Hi Kiki... It feels stupid to ask but I had a breakdown, cried for like an hour, I'm feeling like worthless shit and I just want to fucking disappear... Yeah, I'm fine. Is there any chance you'd like to write something with Steve to cheer me up? I don't know, I feel so empty inside right now and nothing helps. Even the shortest drabble would be fine, really. Anything... Just anything :") If not then that's fine, I know you have lots of things to write rn!

I really feel bad for asking 💀

I'm so sorry you're feeling like this, my dear 😣 I'm always here if you need to talk, and I hope this little blurb will help cheer you up a little (and please don't feel bad for asking! I'm always happy to be your cheerleader! ♡🤸🏻‍♀️)

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Steve Harrington x female reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You‘re having a bad day and your boyfriend Steve finds a way to cheer you up

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 700

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | angst/mentions of depressive symptoms but mostly fluff

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I usually don’t write for Steve Harrington, this is just a cute little drabble for a dear friend but I figured I could as well post it. It might help cheer up whoever needs cheering up right now. So, if you’re Steve’s girl and in need of some of that good old Harrington charm, this one’s for you. I hope you feel better soon. – Love, Eddie’s girl ♡

Tik-tok. Tik-tok.

Tik-tok.

There steady ticking of the clock on your nightstand was the only thing filling the silence of your bedroom.

The day outside was warm, beautiful and sunny. So opposing the darkness that was settling in your own chest. Like the Upside Down – a dark mirror image of something brighter.

You didn’t know what to do.

And the only way you knew to deal with is was drawing the curtains shut, blocking out the sunlight and locking yourself up in the darkness of the bedroom that was matching that inside of you right now.

Your face pressed into the pillows, silent tears soaking the fabric of the sheets, the tangle of your hair, you didn’t hear the key turning in the lock of the front door, the quiet sound of the door being opened and shut, or the footsteps wandering the crappy little apartment you shared.

You were too far gone in your misery to pay the rest of the world outside the gloomy, darkened bedroom any attention.

That was, until a familiar sound cut through the silence.

The first tunes of Redbone’s Come And Get Your Love were floating through the stuffy air, coming from somewhere in the tiny living room – and as you raised your head to the doorway to see what was happening, your eyes landed on Steve.

He was still clad in his Family Movie Uniform – and he was dancing.

Chocolate eyes fixed on you, a tiny little smile tugging at his lips and hips swaying along with the tune, he slowly danced his way into the bedroom.

And then, he began to sing along.

“Heeeey, what's the matter with your head, yeah,” he sang, horribly off tune because singing had never been among Steve’s talents, as he slowly, with a seductive little wink, shrugged off the ugly green vest of his uniform with the theatrics of a stripper on speed to reveal the even uglier pale yellow dress shirt underneath. A laugh bubbled up your throat as you watched him, and you sat up to get a better view at whatever show he was pulling off right now.

“Heeey, what's the matter with your mind And your sign an-a, oh-oh-oh –“ With a wink, Steve carded his hand through his luscious hair, slowly, hips still swaying, before in a swift movement, he ripped open the dress shirt, buttons flying all around him like confetti.

“Heey, nothin' the matter with your head Baby find it, come on and find it,” he continued to sing along quietly.

The laugh that had been sitting at the back of your throat spluttered free. “Oh my God, Steve, what are you doin?!”, you inquired with a giggle, but the words were cut short as he sprung onto the bed and grabbed you, gently pulling you up and guiding you into a little pirouette.

“hey, with it, baby, 'cause you're fine And you're mine, and you look so divine – you do look divine, by the way!”

And you just…went along. Dancing with Steve on the bed, his softly crooning along as he guided you through the steps and twirls, his toned chest on perfect display for you and your own laughter mingling with the song.

And when the song ended, Steve’s hands found their way up to cradle your face as he pressed a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong, babe?”, he asked softly, worry and seriousness having crept into his voice, into his eyes, as he watched you.

“A horrible, horrible day,” you said quietly. “I just…I just want to cuddle.”

Your surprised little squeal rang through the air as, with a swift movement, Steve swept you off your feet, holding you bridal style as he climbed from the bed and settled on the edge of the mattress, pulling you into his lap.

And the two of you stayed like that – your cheek against his collarbone, his head resting on yours, listening to each other’s heartbeats.

No matter what was happening…with Steve by your side, you’d manage whatever fate threw your way.

[shurisneakers]

harmless (xiii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, smidge of angst, guns, little bit of violence, obnoxious flirting, and kidnapping lol

Word count: 6.2k

A/N: welcome to chaos week >:) this is the first of three updates coming out this week (if i can finish the last one in time).  big thank you to my love @no-shit-sherl0ck for the kidnaped!reader idea, and that one anon who suggested the inator that’s used here. i know you wanted to see it in a zoo but i couldn’t really figure out a way to use that so i referenced it a bunch in previous chapters. oh and also @ginevranights​ for this specific imagery 

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

Who the fuck kidnaps a villain in this day and age?

Saturday started normally enough.

Nat kicked Bucky’s ass in training, evening the score to 120 and 120. He blames it on the lack of sleep. She tells him that it’s his fault he stayed up late to binge watch 911 Lone Star.

He still thinks it was worth it.

The team’s sunshines and rainbows that morning. Someone had cooked up a batch of pancakes and fresh orange juice. Someone else burnt the bacon but left to feed his dog before anyone could complain.

Nat opened up the newspaper. Different sections went to different people until Bucky got stuck with the entertainment section. Fun, considering that he doesn’t even recognise half the names. He’d have to pretend to be interested until the next rotation.

He watches the orange juice levitate in front of him from the corner of his eye and just assumes that Wanda’s getting a refill even though she could have just asked him to pass it. He smells the next batch of bacon burning and figures that Clint is back.

Sam’s beside him, annoying him about how long it takes for him to read about which new celebrity relationship just ended and Bucky retaliates by reading even slower. Fuck you.

He’s on his second stack of pancakes absolutely drenched in maple syrup when the doors to the elevator open and Marie steps out, laptop in her hand.

An instant chorus of hello’s and invitations to have some charred bacon resound through the table. She politely declines them with a small smile, instead opening her laptop and placing it in front of Bucky without further ado. 

He looks at her questioningly, slowly swallowing whatever was in his mouth.

“An email for you.” She tuts her head towards it. “It has a video attachment of your friend.”

Bucky has plans to not watch the video in front of everyone, given that the content could range anywhere from you reading out fanfiction about him to a deep-fake of him singing a Whitney Houston song.

Both of which you have done before and would do again, without any hesitation.

“Aren’t you gonna watch it?” Wanda asks from across the table.

He slowly shakes his head no, cutting his stack into smaller pieces.

“If what’s in it is real, it’s important,” Marie stresses.

“What’s in it?” he inquires instead, hoping that the team would stop staring at him. If Marie was implying strongly that he needed to watch then something was wrong.

“Just watch it, man.” Sam’s statement has everyone agreeing with him. Bucky can’t refuse now, and if the team makes fun of him for the next month about how he looks good belting Greatest Love of All, he’s going to personally assassinate you.

He clicks on the email, noticing it came from a throwaway address. Probably untraceable, if the cards are played right. 

The video opens to grainy footage, which is stupid considering modern technological advancements. If this is one more of your stupid LARPing sessions, it could definitely wait till after lunch. 

But, he instantly recognises your silhouette strapped to a chair and suddenly the room feels very cold around him. His hand automatically clutches onto a bead from the bracelet you gave him that still remained tied to his left arm more often than not.

“Speak,” someone commands off camera.

“About what?” You sound annoyed, exasperated even.

“Why you’re here.”

“I’m here because you have unaddressed feelings of childhood insecurity.”

“I warned you to take this seriously.”

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly but his body relaxes the minute he reads the situation. 

The team’s crowded around him, he can feel it. His attention remains on the screen in front of him.

“Who even are you sending this to?” You don’t sound the least bit threatened. “My roommate’s not at home but my cat is and I don’t think she’d care.”

”You’ve made a complete joke out of villains everywhere. Fraternising with the enemies, the Avengers,” he spits the name with so much vitriol. “You’ve erased what it’s like to be truly evil. Turned us into a laughing stock.”

“If it takes one person to undermine your whole movement then maybe it wasn’t strong enough to begin with.” You look at someone outside the lens, face scrunching in distaste. “Also your costume’s ugly.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you trace this voice?” Bucky asks, receiving an immediate confirmation. “Figure out who it is.”

“On it.”

“Tell them. Tell them we are a serious threat and are to be feared.”

"No,” you say resolutely. “You’re an overgrown manchild. Go watch Teletubbies or something.”

“She does not give a shit,” Clint marvels at the situation, a piece of half eaten burnt toast between his fingers.

You didn’t. And if he knew you in the slightest, which he prided himself on at this point, you already had six different ways of getting out of there.

“She knows she’s going to be fine,” Bucky murmurs, returning back to take a bite of his pancakes. “She’s probably still there just to irritate him.”

He zeroes in on your wrist to see if the teleportation watch was still there but no, your wrists are bare. Guess you forgot.

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how a real villain does it.”

“A real villain- what are you, gatekeeping the villain community?” You scoff. “You sound like a fuckin’ incel.”

“Just send them a message,” the guy bellows, hitting a table.

“She’s going to frustrate them to death.” An accurate observation, Sam.

“Okay, jeez, fine.”

Bucky just knows that you rolled your eyes at that moment.

He had faith in you, or in your abilities at the very least. While every wisecrack could possibly inch you closer towards harm, you probably wouldn’t be making them unless you felt completely secure in your situation.

“Help, I’m totally kidnapped and in danger. Save me because I can’t do it myself. This man is too powerful and strong and sooo scary.”

“Do you think she has a strategy?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re not worried, James?” Wanda asks curiously. “I thought she was your friend.”

“She is my friend.” He reaches over to take the jug of orange from across the table. “That’s why I’m not worried.”

“Are you going to fight the Avengers?” you interrupt his endless tirade. “Because that’s a stupid plan. You get how that’s a stupid plan, right?”

“Let them come. I’m prepared.”

“With what? A stick you found outside? A Nerf gun? Man, you’ve tied my hands with fuckin’ zip ties, you can’t be serious-”

“Shut up,” he roared and the stand shakes slightly from where he stamps his feet. “Our army is enough.”

“Wow,” you exhale. “I wish I had your confidence, I really do. I want to study you under a microscope.”

“I have reinforcements.” It sounds like he turns to the camera to address it directly. “This is a warning. Your friends have an hour to find you or things are gonna turn ugly. This is what real evil looks like.”

“Evil dresses in a dollar store Speedo, apparently.” The man pays you no heed, instead picking up the camera. “Hey, sarge, if you’re watching this, don’t bother. I’m fine, it’s not even the real me-”

The camera cuts to black.

“When was this video sent?” Nat looks at Marie, eyebrows drawn together.

“About ten minutes ago.”

Bucky clicks out of the email, determined to get at least half his breakfast in him before he left to see what’s up with your situation. A notification pops up immediately.

evilkneival123@gmail.com just sent you an email.

A video attachment.

“We got another one,” Bucky informs the team, drawing their attention back to the screen from the informal conversation that had erupted between them about what they could do.

This time, there’s a subject line included.

Attack on the Clone.

"Ain’t that a Star Wars movie?" he asks, craning his neck to look at Clint.

"That's Attack of the Clones," Sam corrects. "Probably autocorrect."

Bucky narrowed his eyes in suspicion at him, jaw sliding outward before falling back into place. Enough times had Sam called him Fucky in the group chat and gotten away with it for him not to be wary.

“Or a code,” Wanda suggests, too many crime thrillers read and podcasts listened in her spare time. She occasionally brought them over to Self Care Saturday, introducing him to the world of true crime as a bit of light content while they snacked on chocolate chip cookies he baked. “Like the Zodiac.”

“For what?” Bucky peers over at her.

“All I remember from that movie is them rolling around a field together,” Clint mutters. “Maybe that’s how you’re supposed to save her.”

“I’m not saving anyone. Look at her, she’s fine.” Is he the only one who saw it?

When he’s met with skeptical looks and no other useful suggestions, he presses play on the video.

This time it's clearer footage. It hardly takes him a second to ascertain where it was.

"That's her lair." It showed the pathway leading up to the flat concrete building, exactly where the intercom should be.

There was a black Sedan parked haphazardly outside, engine still on judging by the sound of the radio blasting an AC/DC song. 

Within a few seconds, someone drags you from the entrance of the lair to the car, despite your very clear protests and opposition, shoving you inside before it takes off in full speed, tires screeching. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., track the car from that video. Check all the CCTV and surveillance footage from around the area that you can find," Bucky commands, taking a sip of orange juice.  

"Why would they send us that?" Clint pipes up. "They make their email untraceable but send us a video of the fuckin' abduction itself?"

"I don't know." Bucky shakes his head, setting his glass down. "She probably convinced them to."

It was an unusual scenario, he realised that. But his eyebrows lower in contemplation, his lip caged between his lip before a thought suddenly occurs to him. A laugh in disbelief almost escapes his throat ad he pushes it down with some freshly cut strawberries. 

"And they listened?"

"I don't think you realise how annoying she can be." He knows, though. He knows. "Bet they regret it, though. I should tell them to keep her for a little longer."

"Voice recognition registers voice to someone named Chad, better known by his alias Soul Crusher. Surveillance footage places the car about thirty minutes away. Exact location sent to your phone GPS."

Soul Crusher. That was worse than Dr. Strange.

"I can make that fifteen." Bucky shrugs, setting down his fork and knife. If his hunch is right, the team didn’t really have to get involved. “See you guys later.”

“Do you want any of us coming with you?” Wanda gestures to the crowd at hand.

“I got it.” He pushes away from the table, depositing his plate in the sink, dropping an extra piece of bacon on the ground for Clint’s dog. “She’ll be alright.”

They watch him trail out of the room briskly, heading up to his room to change.

“Is it just me or is he too casual about this?” Clint continues staring long after he leaves.

“Both of them are weirdos.” Nat pulls open the newspaper again, going back to the sport’s section. “Who knows what goes in their heads.”

“Can confirm that not a lot goes on in his.”

Without Bucky to retaliate or grumble, a Steve walking into the room, sweaty and shiny after training becomes the new subject of jokes that morning.

__

For the first time in months, he’s had to bring a weapon or two along with him. Two revolvers and a couple of knives kept out of plain view. He wouldn’t need more than that anyway.

True to his word, it takes only fifteen minutes to get there, thirteen if he didn’t stop for the chain of ducks that crossed the street.

He’s also dressed in a little more leather than he usually reserves for your meetings. A jacket that brings to act as a windbreaker and tightly laced up combat boots make him look like he either stepped off a runway, or more menacing than usual depending on who was looking.

The GPS points him to an old warehouse near a more subdued part of the city. It was abandoned by the looks of it, and had been for a while judging by the lack of upkeep. Prime real estate.

He pulls off his helmet, hanging it on the handlebar along with his backpack before kicking the stand into place. The bike’s a few metres away just in case they decide to blow something up.

Bucky looks up at the warehouse, assessing the most damage he could do to it if at all it was needed. That thing could barely stand on its own, a grenade would absolutely decimate it. That wasn’t good news for you.

He sighs once before putting on his death glare, straightening out his shoulders into a stature that screams stone-cold, and pushes the door open, gun raised.

A mini-army of people ranging from their early twenties to late thirties stood guard at the entrance, all with rifles pointed at him. He counts fifteen, maybe eighteen.

“Oh, hell no,” a voice erupts from the back, followed by the sound of his gun being thrown to the ground. “No one told me that he was coming.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, his death glare not shifting and Glock not lowering.

“I’m out.” The same guy raises his hands up to show he meant no harm, slowly brushing past Bucky as he squeezed out of the building.

“You got five seconds to leave before I shut this door,” Bucky gives the rest of them an ultimatum. Not like there was a point anyway. SHIELD was sending down some people to account for the one day rise in new morons. 

They all looked at each other, swallowing thickly before raising their weapons.

“I hope he’s giving you good insurance.” The second he finishes his sentence they all cry out in what sounds like a fucking war chant, launching themselves at him. 

______

“They’re here.” Someone presses his ear to the door as if the gunshots and screaming weren’t enough. 

“Brilliant. We’re ready.” Chad picks up the knife, running his finger along the sharp end. You try to see if you can use your Twitter-ordained powers of manifestation for a paper cut.

“How much are you asking them for?” You put forth a query instead, when it disappointingly doesn’t work.

“Asking who for what?” Chad stops his dumb intimidation tactic for a second. 

“You know,” you insist like it was obvious, “my ransom. How much did you ask them to pay?”

“We didn’t-” He looks around at the other people in the room for confirmation. “-we didn’t ask for any.”

“Because I’m invaluable?” Your head droops to the side in mock flattery. “Aw, you guys.”

“We didn’t think of it,” someone from the corner behind you speaks up, coming to the aid of their boss.

“Now that’s just rude.” You tut, shifting maybe an inch or two in your bounds to try and get more comfortable. “Leaving aside your lack of preparation, let’s just assume he bursts in here, desperate and ready to bargain. How much would you ask for?”

“Three million,” Chad says confidently, gathering a nod and sounds of agreement from everyone else.

“Are you serious?” Your jaw drops, a scoff escaping you. “That’s all?”

His self-assurance falters a little bit, you can see it under his 5 Minutes Craft mask.

“Three mill-” You stop mid-sentence. “With this wiring? Ridiculous. Make it ten, I demand it.”

“We’ll ask for fifteen mil,” Chad proposes, his teammates agreeing again, a little more delighted than last time.

“Ask for thirty, you coward,” you argued. “Thirty million and a jet.”

“You’re not worth that much.” The dipshit diagonal to you pipes up with his unwanted and, frankly, useless opinion.

“And you are?” You whip around the best you can. “Henchman number four?”

“Megedagik,” he informs, standing up a little taller now that he was given some importance. “It means ‘killer of many’.”

“Did you just say your name was Mega Dick?” 

“Megedagik,” he corrects.

You stare at him hard before turning away. “Alright, other than Mega Dick here, does anyo-”

A knife lands right next to your feet, driven at least an inch into the ground. You look up at the guy you managed to piss off within four sentences, his face now a beet red. 

“These are brand new, asshole,” you barked, shaking your shoes around. “You’re gonna pay if there’s even a scratch on it.”

“Permission to kill her?” Meg growls, casting a side eye at Chad.

The boss man looks at you thoughtfully, assessing the repercussions of what might happen. You raise an eyebrow.

“Slow and painful,” he settles. 

A small smirk makes its way onto your face. 

“Title of your sex tape,” you quip as the man in the corner storms towards you.

_____

It’s all a flurry, really. A bunch of inexperienced newcomers versus one of the most skilled assassins the world had ever seen? Ten minutes tops.

Bucky doesn’t do any serious damage. A couple of broken bones but only out of necessity, a lot of concussions, and maybe a bullet wound, or three, here and there. 

Most of the time he spends thinking about things that have absolutely nothing to do with what was going on. He forgot to take his laundry out of the machine. There was a biscotti recipe he had been procrastinating on trying. His succulents needed watering but he could do that once he was back. Was he wearing his good combat pants or was it the pair that had a hole in the pocket?

His left hand thrust outwards to shove someone away while he stuck his right hand into his pocket to check if it had frayed away. The person he pushed slams into a wall with a loud groan and no, his pants didn’t have a hole in them. 

He stops to take a breather, assess what was going on. There are bodies scattered all around, mostly writhing in pain from minor injuries. Someone very bravely stands up, hands posed in front of him in a regular fighting stance.

“You sure about this?” Bucky asks, reaching for one of the concealed knives he hadn’t had a chance of using yet. It twirls rather nimbly between his fingers for something so dangerous, the hilt finally landing in his palm for a sturdy grip.

The man takes one look at the knife before sitting right back down on the ground. 

“Good choice,” his voice drops to an octave lower than his self-esteem. He’s tired of this old routine but it works like a neat little party trick, often getting him the result he wanted. “Where?”

A few fingers point down the hall to the only room whose door was closed.

He makes sure to step over everyone who was lying along the way, ears tuned in to even the smallest of noises just in case one of them decided to attack him from the back. It doesn’t come.

He doesn’t bother creeping down the hallway. With all the ruckus that just went on outside, he’s pretty sure it’s obvious that they had an intruder. 

Bucky kicks in the large steel door with ease, given that it was barely hanging on its hinges. His gun’s raised, muscles tight, and senses on high alert for any immediate threats. 

It lands with a large thud, reverberating through the room. He’s reminded of your first meeting with him.

There’s a chair in the middle of the room with a person tied to it by a mixture of rope and tape. Others found themselves slithering around on the floor in a similar fashion, trying to get out of their bondages.

“Hey, James,” you call out, drawing his attention to you. You were sitting atop a table, legs swinging back and forth without a care in the world, a blade in your hand. 

“You okay?” He tucks the gun into his waistband when he realises that none of the henchmen are going to be going anywhere soon.

“All good.” You hop off the table with a little spring in your step. “Did you bring your bike? I need a ride back to the lair. I think I left the TV on when I was, you know, getting kidnapped.”

“You coulda teleported back home before all of this even happened.” Bucky does a quick assessment of your body to make sure there weren’t any bruises or anything of the sort. “Avoided the whole thing.”

“Don’t have the watch with me.” Odd, since he knows you consider it one of your essentials but it just fuels his theory further. “Besides, if I just quit before we started, they’d keep messing with me over and over again.”

“Do you want me to punch someone’s face in?” He glances around the room at the ones wiggling about on the floor like fucking worms. “I’d be happy to.”

“Nah, I got a few in myself.” You rotate your wrist, other hand still holding onto the knife. “You know what, maybe I’ll have another go.”

He simply makes a noise in acknowledgement before he places a hand on the hem of your shirt, gently reeling you back. “I think you fixed ‘em up real good. That’s enough for today.”

“Fine but only ‘cause you said so.” You huff, looking past him and at the weirdos on the ground. “You hear that? This man just saved your life. Say ‘thank you’.”

A muffled chorus of what sounded like appreciation echoed through the room. Bucky awkwardly looks around.

“Damn right.” You walk over to the guy in charge of the whole event, bending down to his level. “If you ever try to fuck with us again...”

You stare straight into his eyes, unblinking. You hold up the knife to his Adam’s apple. Chad doesn’t dare to move other than the thick swallow.

You raise your finger and flick him in the forehead. “Get a better costume.”

The corner of Bucky’s lip quirks upward.

“Let’s go, sarge,” you announce, standing upright again and making a motion to follow you. “D’you have an extra helmet I could use?”

“Yeah.” He had brought one along in his bag, assuming that you’d need one once he noticed the watch was missing in the footage.  

“Yay.”

The only storage space on his bike was under his seat and it’s just enough for an extra revolver. Clint asked him if it was his way of flirting with someone, give ‘em a quick spin around the city and then show them his gun. If looks could kill, Clint would be 7 feet under. 

“You sure you wanna ride it, though?” He cringes immediately when he realises what it sounds like, waiting for you to smack the innuendo in his face. “We could wait for SHIELD.”

“Don’t really have another choice, Bucky,” you say absentmindedly, strolling out the room as you tossed the knife behind you.

He frowns at your indifference but turns around for a second to look at Chad. The man in question looks back viciously, his grandeur from that morning basically deflated and left to die along with his reputation.

“Might wanna reconsider the name,” Bucky remarks, doing a quick sweep of the area once more. “Soul Crusher.”

He waits until both of you are outside the cell and the door is shut on the ringleader and his circus clowns, handlebar twisted out of place so that they don’t escape for the time being.

“One second,” he calls, touch gently lingering on your forearm to stop you without even thinking twice about it. A famously uncharacteristic move for him.

"Hm?” You don’t even look like you notice his action.

“You sure you’re good?” he asks seriously, actual concern slipping through the question. “Do you need medical assistance?”

“They couldn’t hurt me anyway.” There’s something strange about the way you say it, almost assuredly. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” he concedes, his hand darting back when he realises it was still on your arm. His eyebrows furrow when he realises how instinctively he had reached out in the first place.  He didn’t touch anyone, ever.

“What are we gonna do about them?” you inquire, stepping over someone on the floor to get to the exit.

“Marie told Agent Hill. They’re sending someone over.”

“They’re sending SHIELD for these wannabes?” Someone groans in protest from somewhere and you elect to ignore them. “Ew.”

“Just to make sure confidential information isn’t compromised in any way.” There’s a large bang that comes from the room they just left. Maybe one of them shot their teammate by accident. They were more than capable of doing it.

“I would never,” you exacted a little more solemnly, pushing the door open with your elbow to let the sunlight flood in.

“I know.” He doesn’t realise how dark it was in the warehouse until he steps out into the noon sun. “I’m pretty sure this is more about the fact that you were abducted.”

“For me?” The smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes the way he kinda likes. Something definitely felt off. “I love being class favourite.”

He doesn’t reply, a small grunt as he twists the handle of the warehouse door upwards, effectively jamming it. 

“Can I drive?” You bat your eyelashes at him innocently, disregarding the loud screaming that came from inside as those less injured probably regrouped for a last ditch attempt. 

“No,” he doesn’t hesitate in replying, handing you a helmet and buckling his own securely.

“But I just got kidnapped,” you complained, watching him swing a leg over the bike and straddle it. Okay then. 

“All the more reason for you not to drive right now.” He mentions for you to get on, squinting at the warehouse a few feet away.

“Fine, but next time I’m driving,” you grumble, climbing on the back.

“Do you even know how to?” His head is tilted to look at you from the corner of his eye, voice heavier on account of the obstruction on his face.

The door starts shaking violently and he knows for a fact that it won’t hold up for much longer. Some of those who he had knocked out probably had been shaken awake again for manpower. 

“I can learn.” You take a pause, mischief seeping into your next words. “You can teach me.”

“No.” He didn’t exactly practice what was considered safe, law abiding driving. He just got from one point to another and that’s all he cared about.

“Then I’ll do it myself.” You sound determined. “I’m going to leave a note for us in the lair.”

“You do that.” He revs the engine when something solid hits the metal door. As guessed, their usage of props to push it down faster was coming into play. “Now, can you hold on to something? We need to go.”

If only those idiots just realised that the windows covered by newspapers were right there, ready to be broken.

“Only if you promise to let me drive next time,” you say defiantly, drawing this whole ordeal out.

“Whatever,” he urges. “I promise. Now can we go?”

“Wait for it...” There’s a devilish smile on your face. “One.”

There’s a loud creak as the door finally gives way.

“Two.” The same people you left tied up in the room burst out, almost stumbling over each other in the process.

“Three,” he completes it on his own, not waiting for you to finish because God knows how long you’d stretch it out just for the drama.

Your excited screech of laughter as he narrowly misses a rod that gets thrown at him like a fucking javelin temporarily distracts him from the brain freeze he gets when your arms wind around his waist to hold yourself in place. 

There’s angry screaming and bullets that whiz past in an attempt to get him to stop but a swift turn around a corner, pulling the both of you out of their sight is enough to get rid of them. 

“We should get a few weapons and go back,” you yell over the wind rushing by, barely audible.

“You do that in your own free time,” he shouts in response, yanking you through narrower lanes and less popular streets.

“Maybe I will, you bore.” 

Still, you shut up for the rest of the ride, only grumbling when he stops the bike to tell you that no, you cannot let go just because you want to throw your hands in the air like in the movies.

You hop off when he finally pulls up on the street outside your lair, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. He waits patiently as you unbuckle the helmet, switching off the engine. 

“You gonna drop me off at my door too, now?” You snicker, fingers pulling off the helmet.

He looks at you for a second before dropping the kickstand into place and dismounting from the motorcycle.

“I was kidding.” You laugh, handing him your headgear that he shoves into his backpack. 

“You’re pretty capable of gettin’ abducted along the way.” An absurd notion, considering it’s a short path from the road to the door. 

“Oh, how chivalrous.” You let him tag along anyway, for his peace of mind. 

“My ma didn’t expect any less.” A couple of sharp lessons from Winifred Barnes and Bucky was nothing short of a damn angel. 

You knock on the door three times, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited. 

“Aren’t you the one with the key?” Bucky questions, one hand on his waist. 

The door swung open in the middle of his sentence revealing... you.

Another you.

“Nah, she has it.” Ex-Kidnapped-You raises your head in acknowledgement at Doorway-You.

“Ah.” He fucking knew it. An unnatural sense of smugness blossoms in his chest. 

“Hey,” the both of you said at the same time.

Doorway-You looked way more relaxed, a little less grimy and dishevelled but exactly the same.

“Buck, I see you met my other half,” the you from the doorway greets him. “Or other whole, actually.”

“Sure did.” He sends a glance at Ex-Kidnapped-You.

“You can go on in. Big first day, huh?” Doorway-You refers to the you beside him.

“You wouldn’t believe,” Ex-Kidnaped-You mutters, pushing past the entrance and disappearing inside.

“She gonna be okay?” His gaze trails after your clone.

“Oh yeah, just needs to recharge.” You turn around to make sure she’s fine. “She’s made of some pretty strong carbon, technically almost indestructible.”

No wonder ‘you’ said they couldn’t hurt you.

“Heya, sarge.” You draw his attention back to you. “Always good to see you.”

“Can’t really say the same about you.” 

“Ever the emotional repressor, Mr Barnes. I like this little leather show you got going, did ya wear it just for me?”

He shifts his balance to his other foot, feet slightly wide apart. “Take it that the clone machine finally worked?”

“I was in the middle of celebrating.” You sigh, recalling the events of that morning. “Teleported home for a second to get some champagne and when I came back she was gone.”

“Irresponsible.” He tsks, head shaking in disappointment. 

“Sorry I didn’t take amateur kidnappers into account for my risk factor analysis, Bucky,” you shoot back, pressing on his name for added annoyance. “Anyway, I did the responsible thing. I sent all the evidence I had to you guys.”

“Real clever.” Bucky looks at you in dry amusement. “Attack on the clone? Really?”

“Hey, always make time for a good pun.” You finger gun, lopsided grin on your face. “Did the team like it?”

“They thought it was a typo.” Or a code. He really had Wanda to thank for his big revelation. “Your video didn’t help either.”

“Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.” You laugh, crossing your arms over your chest.

He doesn’t reply, pursing his lip inwards in sympathy, but more so to conceal a smile.

The happiness drops from your face slowly, horror taking its place. “Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.”

“Good job, your machine worked,” he adds helpfully.

“C’mon, there were so many differences,” you whine, the success of your endeavour the last thing on your mind. 

“That is your literal clone,” he points out, only to see you- clone you- walk into the giant box in the corner of the room, bright green light emanating from it like a xerox machine.

“How could they not tell the original apart from a copy?” You look genuinely offended. Insane. “Not even Sam?”

“Guess you’re not unique enough.” A rise and fall of his shoulders signify his attitude towards this whole thing. “Think I like your copy better, too, actually.”

“You’re so mean.” You puff in disbelief. “I’m a 100% original. How many mad scientist teachers do you know?”

“Two.” 

“I don’t mean now, that’s not even the-” You poke at his rock hard chest. “You are so much more annoying than when I first met you.”

He thinks it’s good relationship development.

“I have to deal with you every weekend.” He watches your finger drop from his chest. “Picked it up along the way.”

“Boo hoo, talking like you don’t have deep, deep feelings for me.” You roll your eyes. “I see right through you, Bucky Barnes.”

“Can you see the part that couldn’t give less of a shit?” He gestures to himself. “It’s all of it.”

“You think you’re such a comedian, huh?” You narrow your eyebrows. “How did you know she was a fake then, huh?”

Busted.

“Probably ‘cause you didn’t talk as much today,” he dodges. “Actually had some peace of mind for a change.”

“You knew before you got there, you liar.” You push past his fabrications. “You figured it out before everyone else.”

“You literally put it in the title.”

“Yeah, but the rest of the team saw it too.”

“Rest of the team didn’t know you were building a goddamn clone machine for months.”

“You remembered that?” You pulled away, palm over your heart. “Oh, sarge, you paid attention to me.”

His nose twitches.

“You said it, like, eight hundred times.” He could use both his hands to count the number of references you had offhandedly made in the last three weeks alone.

“Why'd you go save me when you knew it wasn't real?” you continue to challenge relentlessly, knowing fully well that he was fibbing. 

“Because you fuckin’ peer pressured me. Had the whole team around me when you sent your little video during breakfast.”

“Just admit it,” you coo, ignoring all his justifications. “You noticed it was fake me right away but showed up anyway because you’re wildly in love with me.”

“No,” he says stiffly. 

“No as in you won’t admit it you have a crush on me, or no as in you didn’t know it was fake me?”

There was no winning this. 

“Good day to you.” He pulls the motorcycle helmet on to hide the expression that plain as day screamed the former of your two options.

“Also,” you bring up indignantly, “she even got to ride the fucking bike and I’ve been asking to drive it for months now!”

“We-” he chooses his words carefully. “-compromised.”

“Oh, you did?” Your voice lowers at the newfound information, interest piqued. “I’m gonna hold you to that then, whatever it is.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Absolutely does,” you huff. “A promise is legally binding. Blue’s Clues taught me that.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

“You’re my knight in leathery armour,” you swoon, switching sides immediately, “Kinda.”

“See you next week,” he says in farewell, determined to leave before you made it worse. “Try not to get killed by then.”

“Why, so you can do it yourself? Protective much?” You pull him back when he starts walking away, laughing slightly. “Wait a second, you weirdo.”

He sighs, staying put anyway, arms crossed impatiently over his chest.

You pull out the pen tucked behind your ear and slowly tap him twice on each shoulder in a makeshift knighting ceremony. “For your sacrifice.”

He rolls his eyes at the ludicrousness, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth.

You ignore his lack of enthusiasm, pressing your fingertips to your lips in a small kiss and then to his nose, given that it was the only part of his face you had access to.

“That was for your bravery.” You grin brightly at him and he sure as hell is glad he’s wearing the stupid helmet because he can feel his cheeks light up a bright crimson.

“Thanks.” His voice sounds gruffer than a second ago. He clears his throat.

“Now you’re my knight in leathery armour,” you fawn, nearly falling over yourself dramatically. “Let’s ride into the sunset together. I love you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he calls out over his shoulder, turning away to return to his bike. “I despise you.”

“But you don’t.”

He really didn’t.

also i managed to fuck my phone up really bad so all proceeds from my ko-fi go towards getting it fixed

Next part

[cedricslover]

can you write a oneshot with wolfstars daughter dating george

Here you go bestie<33 thank u for requesting!!

As a wolfstar shipper and a George girl myself😌, I hope you like this bestie<33

Pairings: Sirius x Remus, George x Fem! Reader

Warnings: some homophobia at the beginning, teasing Sirius Black lmaooo

Word Count: 2.4k

“You want a future with me?”

“Hello dear” you turned around and saw one of your fathers, “Dad!” you jumped and hugged him, you just got off the Hogwarts express, this would be your last summer break since you’re going to be seventh year the next time you step at Hogwarts. 

“How’s my baby girl?” He looked at you as you broke the hug, you smiled at the sight of him “Doing great, where’s dad?” you looked around while he picked up your trunk, “Here!” you heard the voice of your other father and your heart jumped out of joy when you saw him, you ran to him and hugged him too. 

“Here’s a chocolate for our princess” he handed you a bar of chocolate, “Remus! You ruined my moment with her, you should show up at the exit, not here, you’re ruining my quality time with our daughter!” suddenly Sirius was having a tantrum, not likely a tantrum actually, he was just whining. 

“No” Remus answered and looked away while he bit into his own chocolate bar. You laughed at them, “Stop acting like kids” you said and linked your arms to theirs. 

“Excuse us?” They both said in unison and looked at you, their forehead creasing that made you laugh even more. 

“You may” you nodded while closing your eyes and your parents just looked at each other, and it seemed like they were blaming the other one as to why you are so sarcastic.

“Let’s just go home” you dragged them by the arms since theirs are still linked to yours. You giggled as you saw Sirius not even struggling while carrying your trunk and at the same time being dragged by his daughter, and giggled even more when you saw your other dad who was just eating his chocolate quietly while observing the surroundings. 

You three were just like a happy family, parents picking up their child that came from a boarding school, if it weren’t just the ugly looks the people gave you.

It seems like Sirius was also bothered by how people looked at the three of you, seriously? Can’t they just manage their own business. 

Remus on the other hand was like used to it, he didn’t show any bothered expression, he didn't want to feed their satisfaction. That is something you got from him, that’s why you just let the people be, but of course, Sirius being Sirius.

He removed his arms from your link and grabbed Remus' face and took a bite from the chocolate that was centimeters away from his lips-being that he was eating it, your eyes widened registering how did that happen so fast, your jaw dropped, and a smile slowly formed in your lips as you saw Remus turning scarlet. 

 “Gross” you removed your arm that was around Remus’ and walked past them, your smile didn’t left your lips as you see mixed reactions from the crowd at the station, some were smiling, some were confused, some were probably uncomfortable, and of course, the people who were obvious to be insulted or disgusted. 

Needless to say, Sirius is your father, so you flicked those people who looked openly disgusted by them, they were sneering, frowning, and rolling their eyes.

“Fuck off git” you mouthed as you walk, turning to them while your middle fingers were greeting them. 

“Good job princess” Sirius laughed and high fived you as you three arrived at the front of number 12 Grimmauld Place, you weren’t sure what was the good job for, is it for flicking those people off or for successfully apparating, you decided to shrug it off and just viewed the house, it was your father’s ancestral home, it was filled by terrible memories of his childhood but with you three living there, it was all buried deep down. 

You unconsciously stared at the beautiful house that was concealed in the muggles eyes. You felt nostalgic seeing your dads walking towards the door, memories from your childhood appeared in front of you.

A girl in a yellow flowy dress, around the age of four, was running towards two men with their arms open wide, expecting that the little girl would run to them instead of the other, but what they didn’t expect was the little girl would run straight to the space between them and both hug them from the necks. 

The little girl was giggling while her dads were teary eyed, that’s when they realized, she never had favorites, if she had the choice to not choose, she wouldn’t. 

“Y/N?” Remus called you from the doorstep, his head was cocking from the door. “Oh!” you ran to the door “call me before dinner yeah?” you told Remus as you removed your shoes. You raised your gaze to him with flashing eyes and maintained eye contact, waiting for his answer. 

“Alright” he replied to you, you felt sudden joy not even sure why but it did make you kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks!, Love you dad!” you shouted as you ran towards the stairs, 

“HOW ABOUT ME?!” you heard Sirius who was probably at the kitchen doing Merlin knows what, “I LOVE YOU TOO!” you yelled while you ran the stairway. 

“YOU BETTER BE NOT PREGNANT WITH THAT WEASLEY BOY’S CHILD Y/N!” Remus’ voice echoed and you laughed and stopped from entering your room and peeked down while holding at the stair rails.

“DON’T WORRY, I’M NOT PREGNANT!” you shouted back and you heard his sigh of relief, “YET!” you added and sprinted to your room and closed the door. 

You heard both of their voices shouting your name. You cackle while heading to your study table, your room was cozy, it was filled with different drawings you made when you were a child, there was your very first black leather jacket that Sirius gave you before he bought you a bicycle, it was hanging from a corner, properly displayed, he was expecting you to like motorbikes like he did, and you did, you like riding motorbikes. 

There was also your very first hair accessories that Remus bought for you, hair pins, hair clips, headbands, and many more. He was the one who likes to tidy you up, even before you make yourself dirty by running and riding the bike. Of course Remus struggled but thankfully, Lily did teach him a few hairstyles when they were teenagers, and the rest of his knowledge came from going to different hair salons just to ask how to style his daughter’s hair. 

An owl bumped on your window that made your brows raise and shift your head to that direction. 

“Errol?” you said the name of the owl and he dropped a letter to your hand before he headed to your table and lay down, acting very exhausted, of course to your utter panic you immediately got water and placed it in front of him. You sighed as he drank through the container, enough for him to drink. 

While he relaxed you opened the letter. 

Hello beautiful, 

                   I’ll arrive there at six, see you. 

Your husband, 

George

You bit your lower lip and smiled, then you forgot, you haven’t told your dads yet. Without wasting any time, you apparated to the kitchen. 

“Hey” you voice lingered behind their backs and they jumped, they turned their heads to you with wide eyes, “You don’t do that here” Sirius said while holding his chest, “I almost had a heart attack” he glared at you while you just tried to not laugh,

“You’re just getting old dad” you stated that made him glare at you more, Remus smiled very very sweetly at you, trying to bribe you to not say it “and you too” you smiled back, looking at their sour faces. 

“Enough” Remus raised both of his hands and shaked it, trying to shoo you. “I was about to say that George’s arriving at si-” you didn’t have the chance to finish your sentence when someone knocked at the door. 

“I’ll get it” you announced, you three were quite tensed as to who might be at the door, you weren’t expecting visitors this early, it wasn't 6 o'clock yet. 

You opened the door, ready to run back to the kitchen if something goes wrong, but what greeted who was something-or someone, who had a mischievous smile, his red hair shining because of the sun, and his brown eyes gleaming at you. 

“Hello dove” his smile became wider as he caught the perfect view of his girlfriend, her Y/H/C hair complimenting her skin, the eyes that were obviously shocked to see him, and the smile that slowly formed on her soft lips. 

“George!” you mentioned his name when you processed who was standing in front of you, he gave you a peck on the lips before he grabbed your waist and pushed you carefully to the side so he can walk, “hello Sirs” he cleared his throat and rubbed both of his hand on his pants before giving your fathers a hand shake. 

This would probably be their very first ‘formal’ meeting, they already met each other at Hogwarts, during the Triwizard tournament, but that wasn’t formal enough, unlike now. 

George was scratching the back of his neck and was being really nervous, you just surveyed them, and when you noticed something it was too late because your mouth opened before you can even think twice

“Dad, you’re the smallest” you told Sirius that made the three of them look at you, firstly George was shaking his head slightly, trying to tell you that it was not the right time, then Remus was also looking at you, he was trying his best to cross his brows but you can see the ghost of smile that was in his face, on the other hand, Sirius was there shooting daggers at you with his eyes like you’re not his child, then he slowly looked at Remus and George. 

George was obviously the tallest, but only an inch taller than Remus, while Sirius, he’s just not a six footer. 

“I-uh come George let’s prepare the table” even though it was still early, you reached for George’s hand, still feeling the stares of your father, you wanted to laugh, so hard, but he might not buy you your favorite cereal, so you chose to suck it up.

“Why’d you do that?” George started talking as you fetched his wand and used it to prepare the table using magic, “it was my mouth’s fault, anyway, you told me you're arriving at six, it's not six yet” you answered and watched the floating plates and utensils. 

“I was trying my best not to laugh dove, please don’t do that again in front of your parents, I might lose goodie points, and I meant six minutes not six o'clock” he chuckled as he hugged you from the back, wrapping his arms around your waist and laying his chin on the top of your head. 

“Even if you lose goodie points, I’ll still love you don’t worry” you faced him and cupped his face, his face that was always as perfect, those freckles that can make a constellation, his eyes that you would prefer to look at rather than the stars, and his hair that would always stand out. 

It was like a magnetic pull, your faces was slowly getting nearer and nearer, almost there, the finish line, his lips onto yours, inches turned to an inch, heartbeats getting fast, and you can feel his breath, then his soft lips was supposed to be next 

Not until someone cleared their throat that made you push George out of reflex. 

“No snogging in this house, you understand that angel?” Sirius crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, “Yes dad” you replied, slightly embarrassed so you chose to continue to prepare the table while George can’t maintain eye contact with you or anyone in the room. 

“Sorry dad” you walked to Sirius who was still in the entrance of the kitchen, surprisingly he smiled at you, “Yeah that’s for bullying me” he wrapped his arms over your shoulder “But about that almost kiss? I’m not mad don’t worry, we all kiss someone at some time” he added like it was just common sense for him to not get mad.

“I love you” you said out of the blue while you two watched Remus and George laughing at the dinner table, you rested your head on his chest, “I love you more princess” you felt him kiss the top of your head. 

“Just walk with the boy outside while we clean here alright?” Remus looked at you and George, he tapped George’s shoulder before he turned his back to the both of you and be with Sirius who was still drinking wine at the table. 

“Come on” George called you and touched your back to guide you, your eyes were still looking at your parents, mesmerized by their strong bond. 

“Georgie?” you tried to get his attention while you two walked the dim lighted streets, only the flickering lamp posts and the moon were the sources of light. 

“Hmm?” he was busy playing your hand, touching every bit of it, and even comparing it to his. “You think we would be like them?” you stopped on your tracks, feeling the night summer breeze brushing your skin, "Like who love?" He stared at you, now holding your hand firmly, "Sirius and Remus" you answered and tucked the few strands of hair that was bothering your face because of the wind,  you looked at his eyes and saw amusement and adoration all over it.

“You’re asking me that?” a lopsided smile appeared on his face, you nodded slightly as an answer, “You’re thinking of marrying me?” he asked you again, now giving a full smile, you nodded again, “You," he pointed to you "want a future with me?” he pointed to himself, his eyes smiling the same as his lips, you nodded again, oblivious of how that made George’s inner monologues that was doubting what would happen with the both of you disappear, because who wouldn’t, you’re Y/N, raised by two amazing people, you’re beautiful, intelligent, bold, and many more that he would even consider you as perfect. 

And you’re here, saying that you wanted a future with him. 

Now, with the moon smiling at the both of you, the stars being your cheerleaders, your lips met, you hooked your arms around his neck while he cups your face with one hand and the other holding your waist. 

At this night, two teenagers shared a kiss under a lamp post, during the summer of 1995. 

[magniloquent-raven]

soulmate au part 3!!!!

(read part 1 and part 2 here)

it takes three weeks for anything to happen.

they see each other at school, exchange glances in class, brush past each other in the hallways, fingers grazing as their shoulders bump, incidental touches that wouldn’t draw attention but still leave billy tingling and giddy and embarrassed at himself but…

he’s still getting used to having a soulmate. a real, tangible person he can reach out and touch.

and maybe he’d get used to it faster if he could touch him more, but life keeps conspiring against them. they can’t seem to get a second alone. when it isn’t steve’s kids are crawling all over him 24/7 it’s neil breathing down billy’s neck because he ran out on one fucking class.

well, and then had to lie to neil about why, which was probably what put neil on high alert, but still.

three goddamn weeks.

and neither of them have been patient about it. steve keeps writing billy notes. in the middle of class scrawling things like you have nice eyes and i wanna spend time with you and billy can fucking feel how smug steve gets about making him blush. it’s all he can do not to make a scene in front of half their peers. sometimes he’s not sure if he’d punch steve for being an asshole or kiss him for being sweet.

or both. he can do both.

but mostly he wants time, and somewhere to just...be. with steve.

and he gets that, three weeks after their conversation in the parking lot. steve’s parents will be out of town, and his kids have some stupid game night planned. max keeps asking to go but pretending she isn’t, badly feigning disinterest, and best of all, neil and susan are planning a weekend trip to visit susan’s bedridden aunt a few hours away.

billy is determined to take full advantage of those thirty-six hours. neither of them will acknowledge it directly, but he knows max will tell neil he was home all weekend if she has to. he has no reason to be nervous about being caught, or anything else. it’ll be fine.

it’ll be fine.

he tells himself that over and over but it doesn’t stop him from checking every corner of the house in case neil’s hiding behind a door somewhere before he can even think about getting ready to leave.

he checks again after he’s showered and dressed.

thankfully max is already gone, so she’s not there to see him pacing around like a neurotic rat in a maze.

it almost worse that he isn’t just anxious, he’s excited. and it’s making him twitchy.

there’s no plan. they aren’t going on a date or anything. he’s just...going to steve’s house. steve’s empty house. he’s going to be alone with his soulmate. the list of reasons why that scares him is endless.

and he’s not sure if he’s more terrified of the possibility that steve won’t ask about the makeup thing or the possibility that he will.

knocking on the harringtons’ front door is. an experience. it shouldn’t be. it’s just a fucking door. but billy’s palms are sweating and suddenly he has no idea what he’s even going to say, and he keeps glancing over his shoulder even though he doesn’t really know what he’s looking for, and it feels like he’s been standing on the porch for a fucking eternity but—

his worries don’t exactly melt away when steve opens the door but there is a warm flutter in his chest that’s...new. and distracting.

and steve smiles at him all sunshine and chocolate, and the second the door closes behind them he grabs billy’s hand, wide-eyed, questioning, watching billy’s reaction.

his palm is just as sweaty as billy’s and it’s gross, but also kind of comforting.

“hello to you too,” billy snickers, and steve visibly relaxes, lacing their fingers together properly.

“hi,” he breathes quietly, his gaze soft, but intense, focused. “waiting sucked, okay. i’ve been wanting to do that forever.” he shakes their joined hands for emphasis.

“...that all you were waiting to do?”

steve’s grin turns sly, and his gaze drops a little. “no.”

billy wants to kiss him. he wants to be kissed. he wants steve’s mouth on him, somewhere, anywhere, right now. it’s a nice mouth. he’s spent a lot of time looking at it, and thinking about it, about the way the steam from the showers turned his lips so, so red, wet and slick and both too close and too far away, wondering what he’d taste like—

but steve turns away, taking all the air in billy’s lungs with him. it’s so jarring a shift that billy actually sways a little before he gets ahold of himself and lets steve tug him by hand and lead him upstairs.

the wallpaper in steve’s room has to be some kind of hate crime, but billy doesn’t have time to dwell on it, because there’s a beige bag sitting conspicuously on top of steve’s neatly made bed. the clear plastic top is zipped shut, dusty with age and spilled powders, but billy can still make out tubes of lipstick and eyeliner pencils through the haze.

he stops in the doorway and stares at it, thoughts at a stand-still.

steve’s still clutching his hand, tighter now, and no longer pulling him along. “i—uh. the bag was my mom’s, i think. found it crumpled up under the sink, so, like. she probably doesn’t even remember it exists. and the stuff in it is...new.”

“...new,” billy echoes faintly.

“yeah. yeah, i—i bought it. had no idea what i was looking for though, so i hope i did alright.”

billy blinks at him.

“was—was that okay? i know maybe isn’t exactly a yes, but i kinda hoped it could be, y’know? it’s—it’s totally cool if it isn’t. if you’re—if you’re not up for it. or…” he trails off awkwardly and grimaces.

billy takes a breath. “i’m up for it,” he assures steve with more confidence than he feels.

and steve absolutely beams at him. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

turns out steve not knowing what he was looking for meant he bought...everything.

as billy pokes through the mess he tries not to feel too apprehensive. or at least tries not to let it show. too much. he chews his thumbnail, picking up an eyeliner pencil with the other hand. it’s good shit, all the products are, with fancy names for colours and designer labels. it’s all leagues better than the drugstore clearance shelf crap he lifted as a kid. which doesn’t make this any less nerve-wracking.

“it’s been a while since i did this, so. don’t expect it to be, fucking, art or anything.”

steve shuffles closer from his spot at the foot of the bed and touches billy’s knee. “the eyeliner earlier this year…?” he gestures vaguely at his own face, eyebrows raised.

“friend of mine did that,” billy mutters.

and then his whole goddamn life came crashing down around him because of it.

his anxiety spikes, and he drops the pencil back into the pile, shoving the bag away. “i can’t fucking do this,” he snaps, and he’s halfway standing already when steve reaches for him, alarmed.

“billy, wait—” the hand on his elbow is soft, gentle, but he still flinches away. steve withdraws, fingers curled, lips parted, shock and hurt at war on his face. “i’m sorry. i—shit, i’m sorry—”

“don’t.” billy shakes his head, pulling away further. his lungs hurt. there isn’t enough air in this room. “just—forget it. this was a mistake.”

he’s through the door and heading down the stairs before he can think about it, before steve can respond. he wouldn’t have heard him anyways, not over the echoes of his father’s voice that follow him no matter how fast he flees.

but he stops just short of leaving. stands on the ugly little mat by the front door and stares down at it, his forehead inches away from resting against the wooden doorjamb.

he doesn’t want to leave.

he doesn’t want to go anywhere but back upstairs.

and...he kind of hates it. he has no reason to want that. he barely fucking knows steve, and he certainly doesn’t owe him anything. not a look at his authentic self or even a fucking apology. nothing.

so why does he want to give him all of that and more.

why.

it’s fucking terrifying and ridiculous and confusing and…

“billy?” steve calls out tentatively, far enough away that billy doesn’t startle. he’s making his way down the stairs.

if he’s gonna run, it’s now or never.

now…

or…

he turns around, and leans back, his shoulder thudding heavily as he hits the wall. his eyes itch, and rubbing them doesn’t help.

“billy…” steve’s right in front of him now, hovering just shy of being close, worry etched into every line of his face. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have pushed, i’m sorry—”

“not your fault,” billy mumbles, muffled against his palm. “stop apologizing, harrington.”

steve sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “i...uh.”

“you were gonna do it again weren’t you.”

“...no.”

billy snorts quietly, head falling against the cold wallpaper at his back. “fuck,” he exhales, hand dropping to his shoulder. “look, this is...threatening to be the best fucking thing that ever happened to me, and good things don’t just—it never lasts. it always blows up in my face, and you should know that before you get caught up in it too.”

there’s an awful, drawn-out pause while steve purses his lips and tilts his head and looks billy up and down, his gaze gentle despite the scrutiny.

“i want to touch you,” steve says quietly. he waits for billy’s hesitant nod before he wraps his arms around and tucks his face into the crook of billy’s neck. “i’ve been waiting for you my whole life, hargrove, you’re not scaring me off that easily.”

and...billy always wanted to believe in the romantic notions people wrote about in songs. soulmates being destined for each other. epic, unconditional love. he never had any reason to believe it was real, but he clung to it anyway. despite the part of him that was wary, afraid of putting too much stock in something that might break his heart later on.

so for steve to just outright say it like that…so matter of fact. the reality of the situation smacks him in the face a little.

he puts his hands on steve’s waist, slipping under his shirt to rest against soft bare skin. touching him feels...right. when he lets himself feel, lets himself be here, in the moment. the sweet scent of steve’s hair, the warmth of his breath, the soothing pressure of his fingertips smoothing the wrinkled fabric of billy’s shirt. it all adds up to a feelings that billy can only describe as home.

not home like the place, but home like the warmth of sunlight and sand between his toes, ocean spray on his lips. a feeling he’s always had to chase to capture, but somehow it’s...here. quiet and still, and nothing like he’s used to, but it’s here.

and his touch seems to put steve at ease as well, he practically melts into billy’s embrace, which does strange and addictive things to billy’s heart.

but he can’t just shut his fucking mouth and enjoy the moment.

“bet i could, though. scare you off. i might, some day.”

“billy,” steve sighs, and pulls back enough to look him in the eye. “trust me when i say, you’ll never even make the top ten scariest things i’ve seen.”

and he wants to scoff, or feel insulted, or push the issue, start a fight, but. there’s a hollow look in steve’s eye. it’s not the face of some sheltered rich boy who thinks he’s a big man, no, there’s truth there. billy believes him.

stopping the tide of questions is almost physically painful, but he knows there’s no going down that road today. he’s hiding enough of his own skeletons to be sure they aren’t ready for that yet.

he might just be ready for something else though.

“i wanna try again.”

steve blinks at him, confused for a beat, two, and. “oh!” his lips part around the exclamation, distracting billy for a moment. “the—the makeup? you don’t— you don’t have to.”

“i want to.” he hesitates, and then presses a brief kiss to the tip of steve’s nose, startling a smile out of him. billy grins back. “i want to.”

[tteokdoroki]

then they laughed | s.todoroki.

⇝ pairing: shoto todoroki x fem!reader.

⇝ word count: 1.7K

⇝ rating: suitable for everyone.

⇝ genre: fluff.

⇝ summary: you’d never been ashamed of your quote on quote ‘ugly’ laugh but you’re not quite sure what to make of it when your crush mistakes it for mild choking or the one in which shoto todoroki mistakes your laugh for choking in the middle of the school cafetria. 

⇝ warning(s): please read ! fluffy, angst if you squint,  clueless todoroki and mentions of choking ( non-sexual ).

⇝ author’s note(s): why hello there darlings, here’s a little drabble requested by @patricia-ceballos​, i thought this idea was super cute, i’m not sure how i feel about the ending but i had a lot of fun writing. oh and thank you so much for 600+ follows, i love you all. :( <3

⇝ masterlist | requests

you’d always thought that you had an ugly laugh.

it’s not that you were ashamed of it, never that, but you knew the twisted high pitch stream of giggles that passed your sweet unsuspecting lips could be kind of off putting to others. even so, that never put you off from laughing and joking about with your friends— if they truly cared for you, then having a slightly maniac-like laugh wouldn’t be a problem for them.

your classmates at U.A seemed to be those types of people. the good kind that you could trust wholeheartedly— the first time they’d heard you laugh, ochako had chuckled along with you, izuku had thought it was part of your quirk and bakugou had simply asked if you needed a ‘fucking throat lozenge?’  which only made you burst out into more streams of unintelligible giggles.

right now though, you try your best to stifle your giggles while you watch ochako and deku helplessly try to avoid admitting their feelings for one another over lunch. “what’s wrong deku? are you feeling sick?” the sweet brunette asks, almost impossibly close to the latter’s now beet red face. you can tell that he’s flustered by her proximity; the words he wants to say falling flat on his tongue.

ochako blinks for a second— as if to realise her mistake and quickly backs up, drowning in embarrassment and her silly crush on izuku midoriya. the girl stumbles back into iida, giving him only moments to process his now dropped food before he’s scolding them into next week— hands flying through the air while he barks out his complaints. trying not to laugh is becoming unbearably harder by the second, even asui is falling victim to the scene of comedy displayed right in front of your eyes and its not until you look up and meet the confused gaze of shoto todoroki that the dam finally breaks.

“what’s so funny?” the dual eyed boy says so blankly that even he is comical to you. you break out into fits of hysteria, slamming a hand over your mouth as your snorts launch their way across the table. shoto blinks, brows pinching in the centre of his forehead— is there a joke he’s missing? something he said?

the cluelessness of the half hot, half cold boy before you only sends you spiralling into more bursts of laughter— easing the embarrassment off of the two helpless flirters and effectively calming iida down while they join you in your chuckling session. “its...it’s just that—!” you can barely explain yourself, bold snickers punctuating each of your words as humoured tears begin to form in the corners of your dazzling eyes.

todoroki’s mood now shifts from bewildered to concerned, the short wheezes that pass from your pretty lips send shivers of worry down his spine. why is everyone laughing? can no one at the table see what’s happening? standing from his seat, the number one’s son brushes past tsuyu to get to your side— when he reaches you, your eyes sparkle with amusement despite the horrid sounds that leave you and a frown takes over his angekic face.

“don’t worry yn, i’ll help you.”

still trembling with a case of the giggles you have little time to process the dual haired boy’s words before he’s hoisting you from your seat, you think he’s trying to calm you down from the way his heated hand pats on your back ( five times to be exact ) but when his strong arms wrap around you— suddenly pumping your stomach, you realise.

todoroki is performing the heimlich manoeuvre on you.

shoto todoroki thinks your laughter is choking.

heat flushes to your cheeks as shoto moves to pump your stomach again, his broad chest pressed intimately against your back. the snickers from your friends at your lunch table stop— silence sweeping over them and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the stares you draw from other u.a students in the canteen. their judging eyes tear you down and crawl over you, leaving an uneasy feeling to settle in your bones but you’re too paralysed by embarrassment— too frozen to tell todoroki to stop.

you know he only means well, he didn’t know any better and he was only trying to help a friend in need but did he really mistake your laughter for choking? was it really that ugly?  

a fresh set of tears prickle in your eyes, this time however, they’re not laced with the happiness you gain from being around your friends. before shoto has another chance, you pull away from him slightly with a small whimper pours from your flustered form. “stop... todoroki, please— stop...”

the boy’s hold on you loosens, he recognises the broken tone laced with your usually jubilant voice which gives you enough room to make a dash for it. blinking, todoroki turns to his group of friends, confused  as escape the cafeteria and wolfish stares from your fellow students.

“s-she wasn’t choking, todoroki— she was laughing with us.” izuku explains carefully, fidgeting underneath his classmates strict gaze. the shorter feels almost bad for shoto, knowing he’s probably kicking himself for upsetting you even as you flee.

but his worries are soon eased as todoroki races after you.

launching yourself down the corridor, you use the sleeve of your grey blazer to run away the remaining tears that sting at your eyes. students from across all years watch you go by with looks of either annoyance or concern, but you move to quickly to care— throwing yourself into an empty hall and sinking to your knees. the heat of embarrassment blistering underneath the skin of your cheeks doesn’t ease up as you desperately paw at them, frustration intertwining with the air in your lungs… because, because it had been years since you last felt ashamed of your unconventional laughter, because you thought that enough time had gone by for you to no longer feel insecure about it.

you had good friends here at u.a, ones that didn’t judge you for your unusual habit but the scene yourself and todoroki had created back in the canteen only brought on bad memories reminding you of all of your insecurities from the past.  

sighing heavily; you brace yourself to return to lunch with your friends, tripping over flimsy excuses in your mind for your sudden disappearence when a pair of well polished, brown school shoes come into view from over the tops of your knees.

“there you are, ln.” shoto’s voice is warm while he speaks to you, you’d always thought that. its deep like melted chocolate ready to be tempered and somewhat soothes your nervously thumping heart. you can’t bring yourself to look at him, knowing that there’s probably a pink tint to your eyes from where you’ve been crying but the boy with the two-toned hair persists, still wanting your attention. “the others…the others and i, were worried about you.”

you shake your head, fixing your gaze on a lose thread on the hem of your skirt that sits above your knees. “ah!, todoroki! you shouldn’t worry about me…just head back to the cafeteria before your cold soba gets… well, colder!” a frown pinches at the corner of your lips, settling heavily on your face. you don’t even find yourself convincing but hope todoroki believes your hopeless words anyways. “i’ll be with you guys in just a moment.”

but to your dismay, the youngest son of endeavour slides his back down the wall to sit next to you instead.  “did i hurt you?” he mumbles awkwardly. todoroki itches to reach out and comfort you— it seems like something you would do for him but he’s never been good with situations like these.

“no! no shoto,” this makes you look up, catching the light in the cyan of his eyes. the pair of you blush, flicking your gazes away from one another. “i’m fine!”

“were you crying?”

“certainly not!”

“but your face—“

“shut up!”

“not until you tell me why you ran.” god, was he persistent. blunt and straight to the point, was shoto todoroki.

suddenly your feet become more interesting that the boy beside you, a silence sweeping over you both. “because,” you pause, trying to taste the words on the tip of your tongue before you say them. “i was embarrassed! the whole cafeteria heard my ugly laugh and thought i was—“

“choking,” todoroki finishes for you, finally finding the courage to rest an icy hand on your shoulder. “i’m sorry yn, i didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed about your laugh,” sorrow litters the tail end of the half hot, half cold boy’s words— making them sit heavily in the air. “midoriya explained to me, i really didn’t mean to make you feel that way, i was just worried about you.”

you soften up, finally meeting his gaze once more and sniffle a little— chest warming at his concern for you. “shoto, it’s okay...” you’re quiet in your response, leaning into his cold touch but the dual eyed boy only shakes his head.

todoroki turns to face you fully, shrinking the space between you. he’s so close that you can see the flecks of grey in each of his eyes and feel the warmth from his breath fanning across your cheeks. “even if i can be...socially unaware sometimes, i still don’t want to hurt your feelings. they’re important to me,” he tilts his head, offering you a small smile enough to make a million hearts melt. “and for what it’s worth, i think your laugh is quite cute. not ugly.”

you blink, wondering if you heard him correctly and press a hand to your cheeks that now hear you’ll, as if you’ll be able to cool them down. “y-you think my laugh is cute?”

“yes, and i’d love to hear more of it over dinner sometime.”

his face is as serious as ever while he speaks, but the shine to his eyes tells you a different story as todoroki offers you a hand to stand up. “was that a pick up line, shoto?” you ask, barely being able to keep it together as little shots of laughter litter themselves through your sentences.

“i’m not sure...what’s a pick up line again?” you burst into joyful tears, obnoxious laughter filling the corridors as the boy on your arm guides you to your next class. you care little for the stares that your ugly laugh attracts, just happy that it puts a little smile on shoto todoroki’s face.

[y0itsbri]

Hi Bri 🥰

C-16 if you'd like to 👀

Coffee dates and disasters

au with college!lip and barista!mandy where ian is a frequent visitor at the campus café and meets mickey under rather unfortunate circumstances. don't cry over spilled milk, buddy.

which also fits under a.u.gust for @gallavichthings

words: 2.4k

"never would have thought you the type to come to one of these places," ian mused, looking around the small café with only lamps and string lights illuminating the space. "can't believe college changed you, man," ian clutched at his heart dramatically.

"don't worry. 'm still the annoying bastard you love so dearly," lip squeezed ian's shoulder before he sauntered up to the counter.

the barista's bored expressed brightened when she saw them. her perky demeanor was matched by a high pitched voice, "hey lip," she smiled, dark lipstick striking. she appraised ian with a somewhat predatory eye, "hello, lip's friend."

"uh, brother," ian coughed.

lip rolled his eyes, "and he's gay so don't even try it, mandy."

she pouted and flicked her hair behind her shoulder, "not that it's any of your business, anyways."

ian chuckled besides him, drawing another smile out of mandy, this one kinder, sweeter.

"what can i get you boys?"

the pink highlights glistened in her dark hair as she whipped up lip's cold brew and ian's caramel macchiato, then proceeded to insist that this one is on the house. neither of them argued, but thanked her before they settled down in some stools by the window.

"fucking the barista privileges?" ian asked, raising his eyebrow at his slut of a brother.

"i think of it more like fellow south sider charity," he rubbed his bottom lip, "but yours works too," lip smirked around the edges of his coffee cup.

"you're an idiot."

"can a man who got us free drinks really be deemed an idiot?" lip philosophized.

ian paused, taking a moment of thorough consideration. he looked lip straight in the eyes as he answered, "if that man is you, then without a doubt."

lip tried to knock ian's cup out of his hand, but failed at his attempt. ian thanked his well-practiced jrotc skills and a lifetime experience of growing up in a house packed with annoying siblings for his victory.

they chatted about the robotics classes lip was taking, how he got full-time access to one of the labs, and his weird ass roommate who may or may not be gay if ian is at all interested. ian scrunched up his face. after hearing so many horror stories about the guy, ian didn't want anywhere near him. he wasn't that desperate yet.

the second that lip was out of his seat and heading to the bathroom, the beautiful mess that was mandy descended.

"hiiii lip's gay brother," she leaned against the table.

"it's ian," he spun his empty cup in his hands. he couldn't help himself from smiling at her charisma.

"well hi, ian, i just wanted to say sorry if i spooked you earlier. i just had no idea lip's brother would be so cute!"

"his ugly mug's not too hard to beat." ian laughed. "he got the short end of the gallagher stick, literally."

"cute and charming. you're funny, ian gallagher, i like you." she placed her hand on his shoulder for a moment, a movement so soft compared to her rather frantic appearance. "come back here anytime and it's on the house, yeah? i work most evenings after three."

"oh. uh- okay," ian scrambled for words, "thanks."

she squeezed his shoulder once before lip returned with a rather obnoxious entrance.

"ayo mands, stop harassing him!"

ian ducked his head in embarrassment.

"oh, shut up! i'm just clearing your cups," she winked at ian as she left.

mandy was something else. but she was kind and good company. ian could get used to the chill atmosphere over the chaos of the gallagher house anytime. he might just take up her offer.

--

"you'd think with all the time you spend here, you'd be offered a scholarship or something by now." mandy sipped on her chocolate frappuccino as she laid her feet across ian's lap. he always made sure to come visit during her breaks at least twice a week during the past couple months.

ian shrugged, "guess they only had room for one gallagher."

mandy hit his arm in a way that hurt. lip was fucked if he ever broke her heart.

"does fiona even know that this is where you sneak off to?"

"yeah." mandy's look said she didn't believe him. "well, kinda. she thinks i'm visiting lip, brotherly duties and all."

"yeah? how are those brotherly duties?"

"fuck if i know."

she laughed.

"i still think you should apply here for next fall," she encouraged, "could take some art classes."

"i suck at art."

"chemistry?"

"failed that."

"business?"

"yeah, no thanks."

mandy flipped him off, "fine. botany?

"ya know what? sure." he had always wanted to grow tomatoes.

"really?!"

"heart wants what it wants, mandy. we can't all be psychology brainiacs."

"brains and beauty, what can i say?" she teased. ian laughed, eyes glistening towards his friend. mandy made things better.

"hey," she continued, "there's this concert on the main campus lawn this weekend, you should totally come!"

"isn't that just for students?"

"they don't card, dummy."

"right, right, i knew that."

"sureeee. you in?"

ian mentally checked his work schedule.

"i'm in."

--

lip and ian strolled into the café a few days later. okay, maybe ian had felt a bit guilty for abandoning his brotherly duties lately, but at least this way he could hang out with both his best friends. well he could have if he remembered the fact that mandy had the day off for her behavioral neuroscience midterm. they had literally spent her previous shift reviewing the terms, he should have known.

ian's couldn't help his face from falling as another blonde barista took their orders, mostly eyeing lip the whole time.

"hi lip," she smiled a little too sincerely, "what can i get for you today?"

ian had ordered something new at the recommendation of the blonde and he was not a fan. and to make matters worse, he had to actually pay for the atrocity that he wouldn't even be able to finish.

"so how's your little coffee dates with mandy?" lip asked over his cup.

ian nearly choked on his god-awful americano. "how'd you know?"

"please. she's obsessed with you. every time i see her, it's 'ian this,' 'ian that,' 'ian might apply here in next year.'"

"oh."

"yeah, oh. when were you gonna tell me?!"

“it’s all mandy’s idea, i’m not even sure i want to,” ian muttered, refusing to make eye contact.

“dude, i’ve literally shared a room with you since the day you popped out of monica’s wretched womb, you think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

okay maybe ian had been getting increasingly more excited about the idea of attending school and actually learning things that he wants to learn. something that might actually lead him somewhere real since rotc was looking more and more like a poor man's fantasy the more that he thought about it.

“I was gonna tell you, swear on it.” and he was. once he convinced himself that lip wasn't going to straight up laugh in his face. but the look in his eye seemed genuinely supportive.

“mhm, i gotta catch my english lit class," lip stood up, swinging his tattered tan backpack across one shoulder. he patted ian's shoulder in his big brother ways, "don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah for sure! have fun learning a language you already know!” lip flipped him off at his smartass remark.

soon after, ian stood up to return his drink to the counter, the anxiety from the conversation making him entirely lose whatever appetite he might have had. plus, it wasn’t the same here without lip or mandy. he just wanted to be wrapped up in a cocoon in his own bed. but that was so far away. maybe he could catch an early ride—

thump.

ian crashed into a guy’s sturdy body.

the remnants of his shitty drink spilled in an americano nightmare over both of them, ceramic pieces shattering on the floor in a truly horrific manner.

ian yipped and the other man let out a grunt of irritation.

they were fucking soaked. well, at least the coffee wasn't hot? ian tried justifying the situation, but, nah, this was bad.

"shit! i'm so sorry, lemme," ian reached out and the shorter man flinched away.

they were now far enough apart that ian got a good look at him. a leather jacket.. now covered in ian's drink -- shit. and shockingly piercing blue eyes that lingered too long on ian's before his cheeks turned a shade of pink that made ian's stomach flutter.

he might have seemed cold if he didn’t make ian feel so warm.

"it’s cool, man. i gotta go, uh," and he walked out of the café without looking back.

fuck.

ian smelled like coffee the entire train ride to the back of the yards. he laid in his bed regretting his entire life.

no mandy. no lip. no dignity.

--

the day of the concert that mandy had invited him to rolled around. ian wouldn’t admit it, but he was nervous to spend a coffee-less evening with mandy, their entire friendship built inside that one room. his little bubble of safety was bursting.

well, to be honest, the bubble had burst the moment that his disaster of a coffee was spilled onto one of the most ridiculously pretty guys that he's ever seen. every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the guy’s face shift from hostile to something else. he was torn between wanting to know the his name and also on never seeing him again in fear that he would simply pass away of embarrassment.

hopefully mandy hadn't heard about it. they may not have been friends for a long time, but he already knew that she would never let him live it down.

"hey ian!" her familiar voice called. that sounded promising.

his face fell with relief as he finally spotted her at the corner. she embraced him in a warm hug before pulling back and giving him a once over.

"huh, could have sworn you'd still have coffee behind your ear or something after the description karen gave me of your little disaster the other day." she smirked, quite literally double checking behind his ears as they turned hot under her gaze.

"ugh, fuck, how much did she tell you?" he itched his forehead and scrunched up his nose.

"oh, calm your tits, it's funny as fuck." she giggled, punching his arm in a way that still unintentionally hurt.

"whatever. are you excited for the concert tonight?"

their reunion conversation lulled eventually, and ian noticed that they weren't necessarily standing alone.

no. fucking. way.

just his luck, if he was being honest. he probably deserved this.

there he stood. the man that has plagued his dreams the past few days. in a light wash jean jacket that was a little tight on the biceps, leaning casually against the wall, kicking the pebbles on the ground with his boot.

"uh, what's he doing here?" ian gestured towards the victim of The Coffee Incident.

“what, you know him?” mandy asked, walking them towards him.

“vaguely.” if that wasn’t the understatement of the year.

"huh. i didn’t think my idiot brother had any friends."

brother? how did ian not realize she had a brother?

"what, did you think i was going to babysit you all night? i can't let everyone here thinking you're my boyfriend, no offense or whatever, but you're in good hands!" she kissed his cheek, clearly not helping her own not-looking-like-her-boyfriend rule.

ian eyed said brother's good hands only to see the faded letters of FUCK U-UP on them. oh.

mandy pushed ian over to her brother, "ian, mickey. mickey, ian," she introduced before pushing and shuffling her way through the crowd of college students to find herself someone’s cheap ass fruity alcohol to mooch off of.

mickey. ian's brain repeated over and over, a chime against the murmuring sea of voices they found themselves enveloped by.

"nice jacket," ian pointed out, an awkward attempt to converse before shoving his hands back in his pockets.

"it's my second favorite." the corners of his mouth lifted like there was more to the statement. ian took the bait, as if he could resist.

"what's your first?"

"first is still airing out the fuckin’ coffee smell," he smirked as ian groaned. "oh c’mon, man, don't go crying over spilled milk."

how could he not? on the bright side, he didn’t seemed to hate ian for it.

“if it was anyone else,” mickey drawled, “they’d have to get a beat down for it.”

“why do I get a free pass?” ian mused.

“well, you’re mandy’s friend, right?”

“yup,” ian tried to suppress his disappointment. he really did. but fiona always told him he wore his heart on his sleeve.

“yeah, that ain’t why, though,” his eyebrows waggled suggestively and ian nearly felt his heart drop out of his ass.

ian blessed whatever coffee god was out there for sending him both mandy and the beautiful man in front of him.

“you wanna go listen to the band?” ian nodded his head towards the stage with passionate players jumping around like they were playing lollapalooza or some shit.

“lead the way, stud, just try to keep your drinks off of me this time,” mickey knocked into ian’s own flannel covered shoulder.

yeah, ian couldn’t believe his luck. maybe karma was finally on his side.

—

mandy smirked at her brother and best friend not-so-subtly checking each other out over the course of the night, bopping their heads to the music and downing whatever free booze they could get their hands on.

she hoped that adding mickey to the equation would be enough incentive to convince ian to stick around. things were better when he was near.

the way that ian followed mickey around like a lost puppy with that dopey moon-eyed look, it seemed like her hopes would come true.

and when both ian and mickey strolled into the café to come visit her at work the next week, mickey in his worse-for-wear leather jacket and ian in borrowed denim, she thanks the coffee gods for her luck.

[kurowrites]

Aviophobia

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

---

It wasn’t like Wei Ying particularly hated air travel, not at all. After all, it was still the most practical way to travel long distances, and the distance between China and Europe was definitely long. The problem was that though he had just sat down in his seat, he was already horrifically bored. The airplane hadn’t even finished boarding yet, and there were around ten hours of flight still in front of him, and he couldn’t wait to arrive at his destination already.

He wasn’t looking forward to the flight, not least because he didn’t actually want to leave. After a year of not seeing her, Wei Ying had finally been able to take some time off and visit his sister, who had been living abroad with her stupid, loaded husband. He’d spent two weeks with Jiang Yanli and his little nephew, and it had been so good to see them again. A-Ling had grown so much! But now, a lot of work was waiting for him back at home, and he really needed to return, not sure when they would be able to meet the next time. That, he definitely wasn’t happy about.

Wei Ying distractedly fidgeted around in his seat, trying to keep in mind that it was no use to take out his laptop now, because the flight attendants would ask him to pack it up again for take-off in a few minutes. He had taken a book with him, anticipating this situation, but right now, the book seemed so unappealing he couldn’t even be bothered to unpack it from his backpack.

Come on, he mentally urged the passengers who were still moving along the aisles in search of their seat like a group of very slow snails, move faster, so we can leave.

Despite his best efforts, the other passengers did not speed up their pace, and so Wei Ying was cursed to sit there and wait until everyone was seated. He tried not to notice the usual offenders that managed to get in everyone’s way and blocked everything with their luggage, and tried to relax (rather unsuccessfully).

As he was idly watching the passengers pass him by, he caught a flash of white that caught his attention. Just when he was sure that his eyes were playing a trick on him, a man in a pristine white suit separated from the crowd and sat down right next to him. He pushed his briefcase under the front seat, fastened his seat belt, nodded to Wei Ying once, and then directed his glance straight forward, turning into a beautiful marble statue.

Wei Ying tried not to stare at his new neighbour too conspicuously, but he couldn’t really help it. The man seemed to be horribly out of place here in economy class, with a tailor-made white suit that very obviously was of high quality and therefore very expensive. His face equally set him apart from the other passengers, with a noble look and a bone structure that looked more suited to the cover of a fashion magazine. Wei Ying, in a simple hoody, soft jacket, and old jeans that were selected specifically for comfort purposes (after all, he would have to vegetate in them for ten hours), wondered how this unicorn had gotten lost among the common folk.

His seatmate was incredibly handsome, obviously wealthy, and… extremely stiff.

When the flight attendant finally announced that boarding had been completed, and that they were waiting for permission to proceed to the runway, the man next to him put his hands on both armrests, and for a second, Wei Ying was ready to be offended that this man hogged all the armrests for himself without consideration for the other passengers.

Then he noticed the man’s knuckles going white, his hands holding on to the armrests as if…

Wei Ying looked at the man’s face again. He was still staring straight ahead, his handsome face expressionless, his breath deep and controlled.

His eyes were fixed at some indeterminate point in the distance, and their focus did not waver at all.  

And they weren’t even moving yet.

Oh dear, Wei Ying thought to himself. Someone is not a fan of flying, huh.

He knew that a lot of people probably wouldn’t appreciate his meddling, but then again, he couldn’t sit there and do nothing while his neighbour was counting breaths or whatever the fuck he was doing to calm himself down. He wasn’t going to sit next to this man for the next several hours and pretend that he didn’t notice that this person was very obviously panicking.

So he reached out, and carefully put his own hand over the one currently clutching at their shared armrest.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, as quietly as he could. “You’re not alone, and you’re going to be fine.”

The man sucked in a shocked breath the moment Wei Ying touched him.

Wei Ying was ready to draw back and apologise for his unrequested interference, Maybe he shouldn’t have touched him, maybe he had misread–

The hand under his turned around and grasped his own, holding him fast.

“I apologise,” the stranger replied in a faint tone of voice. “For my unseemly display.”

Wei Ying laughed quietly, relief washing over him.

“It’s alright,” he replied conversationally. “We all have our little burdens to carry. As for me, I am deadly afraid of dogs, and I will jump into your arms when I see one. Not that I have much shame to begin with, but my fear of dogs is definitely bigger than any shame I might have. There will be screaming and a general amount of unnecessary, very ugly drama.”

That, finally, had the stranger remove his gaze from the undetermined point in the distance he had settled on, and he turned towards Wei Ying.

Wow.

Wei Ying had been woefully underprepared for this event. The man was even more handsome, facing him directly, and Wei Ying was sure he had never seen such beautiful eyes.

How, he wondered again, had this man ended up in economy class? He should be flying a private plane, not panicking next to Wei Ying on a commercial flight. He should be someone’s trophy husband.

“Dogs?” the man asked him, as if a fear of dogs wasn’t an entirely normal phobia to have.

“Yes,” Wei Ying replied earnestly. “Have you seen them? So fast, and they make so much noise all the time, and their teeth. Ugh. It’s a completely rational fear to have!”

By now, the plane had moved onto the runway, and was starting the jets up.

The man clutched at Wei Ying’s hand almost painfully as the plane started to vibrate, but surprisingly, he did not look away from Wei Ying, steadily holding Wei Ying’s gaze.

“Well, so is a fear of flying, I guess,” Wei Ying mused as the airplane began to move. “But think about this: it’s far more likely to get mauled by a dog than to get involved in a plane accident. There are dogs everywhere, and you never know when one is going to come around a corner! And some owners really don’t know to handle their dogs. So, you see. My fear is much more rational than yours. Also, I did get mauled by several dogs in the past, you know. It’s not even a theoretical fear for me, I know exactly what those bastards are capable of. Dogs are horrible. Not to mention that it’s too late to do anything about your fear now, anyway. Look. We’ve taken off.”

The man kept clutching his hand and stared at him without replying. Wei Ying didn’t know if he even heard anything Wei Ying had said, what with the noise and the pressure in their ears. But the stranger never looked away, and he never let go of Wei Ying’s hand, so that was good, he thought.

Eventually, when the airplane had gained enough height to level off slightly, and the pressure on the diminished, his handsome neighbour finally let out a deep breath and turned his gaze away.

Wei Ying felt almost disappointed to be relieved of the heavy weight of his gaze.

As he had said, the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.

“Ridiculous,” his neighbour murmured, eventually, after a long period of silence.

Wei Ying laughed.

“Hello Ridiculous,” he greeted, shaking their still-connected hands playfully. “My name is Wei Ying.”

The man’s head whipped around, and he sent him a positively offended look.

And then, after a beat of silence, he said,

“Lan Zhan.”

---

It needed some careful prodding and digging, but eventually, Wei Ying found out that Lan Zhan the reason why Lan Zhan was on this plain at all was because he had taken over the business trip as a favour to his older brother, who had been unable to travel.

Wei Ying felt the need to tease him for his self-sacrificing sense of familial piety, but he didn’t quite dare to tease Lan Zhan about it. After all, Lan Zhan had done a good thing, at the cost of his own suffering.

Lan Zhan was already bad enough when it came to flying as it was, but then someone had made a mistake with the booking, and he had been booked to fly economy rather than business class on his return trip. Lan Zhan, already at the airport and very troubled by the notion of having to fly, period, had not had the energy to discuss the mistake in his booking and decided to keep his assigned seat. After all, it hardly made any difference whether he was flying business or economy. He would spend the entire flight terrified, either way.

“Well, it was very lucky you ended up choosing economy,” Wei Ying mused. “Now you have a free emotional support pet for the entire flight.”

He grinned cheekily and wiggled Lan Zhan’s hand, still safely encased in his own.

Lan Zhan frowned at the joke.

“I thank you,” he replied regardless. “It is… much easier with you here. But I do not wish to trouble you with my… unfortunate condition.”

What a polite, honest man!

Wei Ying was delighted.

“It’s no trouble at all! You saved me from hours and hours of boredom, so it’s really not just you that’s profiting from this. Are you going to be fine when I have to go to the bathroom though?”

Lan Zhan frowned again, but nodded once.

“Good, good,” Wei Ying praised. “And if you wait for me very nicely, I’m going to get us some snacks from the kitchen. They never bring out the chocolate, which is a crime, really.”

---

In the end, after Wei Ying wheedled out information about Lan Zhan’s job and life for what felt like hours, Lan Zhan managed to relax enough to doze off for a little bit, and they spent the rest of their flight in a repeating pattern of chatting, dozing off, and then being woken up to be served questionable airplane meals.

When they finally touched down at their destination (Lan Zhan once again clutching Wei Ying’s hand as if it was the only lifeline that he had – and Wei Ying trying not to be too happy about that), they took their carry-on luggage and slowly ambled out of the plane, moving towards the baggage claim with the rest of the passengers.

Lan Zhan, as soon as he was out of the airplane and on solid ground again, straightened up and took on a confident stance.

Wei Ying was a little bit in awe. He looked even more handsome and formidable now, in his still pristine white suit. He was even taller than Wei Ying had first thought, definitely taller than Wei Ying, and Wei Ying mused whether there was anything about this man that wasn’t awe-inspiring.

(Well, there was that small case of aviophobia, but who could blame him for that, really.)

Wei Ying felt his hand twitch, and he sternly told himself that it was silly to wish for them to continue holding hands, now that they were out of the plane.

“Well,” he said awkwardly as he grabbed his luggage off the conveyor belt. He wasn’t quite willing to say his goodbyes yet, but he was equally unable to think of any reason to hold on to Lan Zhan’s company for a little longer. “I had a good time on our flight, Lan Zhan. Well. I guess you don’t really want to hear that. You probably had a horrible time. For your sake, I hope that you won’t come close to any planes for a while.”

“Wei Ying, too,” Lan Zhan replied. “For your sake, I hope that you will not meet any dogs suddenly coming around corners. So that you don’t have to leap into anyone’s arms.”

Wei Ying gaped, and as he stared at Lan Zhan in disbelief, he noticed the smallest uptick of Lan Zhan’s lips.

“Ayoo!” he cried. “Lan Zhan, are you teasing me? Look at you, all confident now that you are back on solid ground! Be a little more grateful to your emotional support pet!”

Lan Zhan nonchalantly picked his (very small, compared to Wei Ying’s big, lumpy one) suitcase up from the conveyor belt, and placed it next to his feet.

“I am grateful,” Lan Zhan said, serious again. “I have a car waiting for me outside. You are welcome to join me. I will drop you off anywhere in the city. As a sign of my gratitude.”

“Mmm,” Wei Ying made a considering noise. He didn’t want to say goodbye yet, not when Lan Zhan made him such a nice offer. But then, he was also really hungry.  

“I would love to get chauffeured around, but to be honest, I was planning on getting some decent coffee and a nice breakfast somewhere first. The food in that plane was horrible and I’m not functional without decent coffee.”

Lan Zhan was quiet for a moment.

“Can you wait for half an hour?”

“Huh?”

But before Wei Ying could ask him to elaborate, Lan Zhan was already herding Wei Ying towards the exit. He somehow managed to argue Wei Ying into accepting the car ride (Lan Zhan didn’t even argue, how that worked, Wei Ying sure didn’t know), and then Lan Zhan drove him to the nicest little shop for the most delicious breakfast that Wei Ying could have possibly wished for.

He was ravenous by the time they arrived, but he definitely wasn’t in a mood to complain as soon as the first delicious whiff of fresh coffee and food met his nose in welcome.

Lan Zhan was very attentive as they sat down to eat, generously plying Wei Ying with coffee, and letting him pick all his favourite foods. Wei Ying also learned that when Lan Zhan wasn’t scared for his life, he was remarkably smart and funny. It was so easy to get comfortable with him that Wei Ying had a hard time believing that they had never met until just one day ago.  

Lan Zhan was fun.

“Lan Zhan, you’re joking,” Wei Ying laughed, playfully swatting at Lan Zhan’s arm. “Your first serious family fight was because of rabbits?”

“They were very cute,” Lan Zhan replied seriously, insistent on the point.

Wei Ying leaned forward eagerly, meeting Lan Zhan’s serious mien with a big grin.

“And then, what happened with them?” Wei Ying asked. “Did your uncle cook them in a pot? Were you forced to eat rabbit stew?”

“The fourth generation now lives in my back garden.”

Wei Ying gasped. “You kept them?”

Lan Zhan showed the barest twitch of his lips. “Of course.”

Wei Ying nearly slid under the table at the sight of Lan Zhan’s proud little smile.

If Lan Zhan was trying to seduce him, then Wei Ying would consider himself sufficiently seduced by now.

Goodness gracious, that smile was criminal!

And he was the proud owner of a hoard of rabbits!

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You are a veritable little rebel. But, speaking from one pet to another, there is no way you can only tell me about your rabbits and not show them to me. That would be very rude.”

And on Wei Ying’s request, Lan Zhan took out his phone and showed Wei Ying his rabbit children. And then, since he had his phone out already, he shared his contact with Wei Ying. And when they had finished their breakfast, Lan Zhan led him back to the car and drove him home to his apartment, as promised.

When Wei Ying opened the door of the parked car, ready to hop out Lan Zhan stopped him.

“Thank you, Wei Ying,” he said, his beautiful, serious eyes gazing at Wei Ying steadily, as he had done in the plane. “For your help.”

Wei Ying laughed, and rubbed his nose.

God, he really liked the way that Lan Zhan looked at him.  

“For what it’s worth,” he replied quickly, “I’m willing to be Lan Zhan’s emotional support pet anytime.”

And then, because he felt like was too presumptuous and said too much, he hopped out of the car, grabbed his luggage, and weaselled away, to the safety of his apartment.

Once the door of the apartment was closed and his luggage thrown into a corner, he took a deep breath. He dug his phone out of his jacket to inform Jiang Yanli of his save arrival. She was probably wondering why he hadn’t sent her a message yet.

When he unlocked the phone, as expected, there was a message from his sister, asking him if he had arrived safely. However, before he could send a reply, his phone pinged with another message. A message not from Jiang Yanli.

[Lan Zhan, 11.46 am] I’ll take you by your word, Wei Ying. I might have to rely on your services again.

Suddenly, Wei Ying was glad that no one could see him here, hiding behind the door of his own apartment, as he blushed as red as a tomato.

This man!

[lyallblacklupin]

My Truth about you.

Remus has a tendency to practice self-deprecation after full moon when he gets new scars. This time it is a big one on his face. He thinks that he looks hideous, but Sirius is there to tell him otherwise. 

Remus smacks the book on the table so loudly that even students sitting at the ends of the table jerk from their seats.

The marauders are staring at him with hanging jaw and bulging eyes like hawks.

“You okay there, Moony?” James tentatively asks.

“Does it look like I’m okay?” Remus glares at him, aiming his index finger towards the bandaged wound on his cheek. It has been three days, and everyone is steering clear from Remus’ way. The last full moon was a disaster that mostly did damages to his face and neck. He hated facial injuries, not because they were difficult to heal but they made him look ugly—considering the fact, his boyfriend is ten times beautiful than he could possibly imagine himself to be.

The silence settles, tinged with discomfort.  The marauders go back to their lunch before they are running to their classes. Throughout the whole day including the supper, Remus’ mood was at the same foul place. Sirius is trying hard not to step on his nerve that might trigger and eventually cause Remus to curse and boycott everyone and everything. Remus can see it but pretends it to be unacknowledged. He knows that Sirius is the only person he can be himself with, but not with the others because, James and Peter included, everyone is eyeing him with weird looks on their faces that mostly blooms one thing: fear.

They all go to their dorm, and begrudgingly Remus flops on the first bed. He remains there with his chest glued to the soft sheets, his face buried too, sniffing a strongly familiar scent. Before he processes the picture of the person in his head, a voice calls him out.

“Moony?” It is soft like the petals of a fresh white flower and silky like chocolate. He doesn’t open his eyes. He can feel that the exhaustion of the day is dumping out of him, dissipating into thin air.

“Moons?” This voice is much clearer but he doesn’t dare open his eyes again because there is something on his head, brushing his hair. He can picture it. Long, slender white fingers are spreading and fisting his golden curls.

And then, a kiss. On the temple. So gentle that he wanted to sink into its holiness. He groans with the felicity of experiencing such celestial intimacy.

“Wake up, Moons. Just for a moment then you can go back to sleep, love.”

Remus opens his eyes because this time he is shaken by the figure that is intoxicating him with their presence. And there he is. Grey eyes like silver orbs staring at him with such solace and the rippling dark hair are let down. The sight is scenic. Remus asks himself why didn’t he just look at his boyfriend the whole day. He know if he had, his day would’ve been spent much better. The regret is not strong but sweetly painful because Sirius Black is the foremost person in his life and being ignorant to his presence is nothing but ungratefulness.

“Sirius…” And he smiles. Sirius Black smiles his delicate smile which is only reserved for him. He hums in response. “What are you doing here?”

“The question is, my dear Moony, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?”

“This is my bed.”

“So? This is my bed, too.”

“Okay, okay, this is your bed too, Mr. Grumpy.” He chuckles but Remus continues to glare at him, “What!? Okay at least get up and take off your school robes. I’ll lend you my pajamas.”

Remus doesn’t move from his position because he knows if he surrenders, he will lose the chance of Sirius undressing and caressing him. There is always something ethereal about Sirius’ touch. He touches Remus like he is made of delicate glass.

And then it starts happening, Sirius is getting him out his school robes and shoes. The moment is pure bliss and dreamy. Once Sirius was done, Remus looks up to witness him staring at his face with an intense yet unreadable expression. He reaches out to cup Remus’ cheek, and then suddenly Remus flinches away. He hasn’t forgotten it. The ugly feeling started assembling back to him, making him feel all blue and dejected instantly. Sirius has caught that look on his face.

“Hey, don’t…” He whispers.

“Why not!? I’m hideous!”

“You are not hideous! You’re not even close to hideous! You are very attractive and beautiful—“

“Stop! Just stop. I don’t want to hear this, Sirius.”

“Moony…why? Why do you think like that?”

“I-I never had a scar on my face…before it used to be like the tiny ones on my nose or jaws or my lip or eye or…dammit! Everywhere! They are everywhere!”

“Shh…” Sirius draw close to him and made him sit up. He laces his arms around Remus’ neck, forehead pressed together, breathing each other in.

“This one is the worst, Sirius…my life is the worst! I mean if I was meant to be cursed with this physical affliction, the least God could have done was to spare me with its brutality! I don’t just go through this physical pain, it is the mental pain too! Where I have to stand before this bitter truth that tells me that I have no future. No job, no living, no healthy relationships, fuck! No health at all! I can’t pursue my education because I’m not a human. I can’t have a family of my own. There’s nothing I can have that a normal person does.”

And then he feels lighter. His heart is not heavy anymore. But tears are streaming down his face, wetting his hands in his lap. The most remarkable thing is that Sirius is still breathing him in. They are in the same position. But he doesn’t look up to hold Sirius’ gaze. Sirius is quiet like an obedient cat.

Remus’ hands move, as if they are automatically functioning, and clutches the fabric of Sirius’ shirt on his chest. He still doesn’t meet his eyes. He just clings himself to him. His head resting on his shoulder, and Sirius holds him by his waist.

“I’m sorry.” Sirius whispers in his ear, “I’m sorry you have to go through all of this. I know you said that you don’t want to hear it but it's the truth and you deserve to know it. You are perfect to me. And I don’t think I can be more honest about that. Look, Moony,” He pulls away gently to meet Remus’ eyes.

“Do you care about others’ opinions about you?”

“No—“

“Do you care about our, me, James, Lily, and Peter’s opinion about you?”

Remus knows what answer Sirius expects, but today—at the moment—is Remus’ truth day, he cannot say things that he meant half-heartedly. The truth is and has always been this: He only cares about Sirius Black. It is a mad truth but it is what it is. He was mad. Madly in love with Sirius Black.

“Moony?” Sirius’ eyes narrow down on him skeptically.

“I care about what you think. I care about you, only. It’s strange and weird and insane but it is…it is my truth.” Remus has said it, and there is no turning back because Sirius is looking at him blankly. His face is flushing, his mouth is in a thin line. He presses harder. His lips become thinner, his jaws clenched and his nostrils flares slightly. It is not anger. Remus can tell. He knows him. More than he knows himself. He is trying not to cry but then there are tears floating in those eyes and then fell simultaneously. Then they are falling.

“I just…can’t see you like this…” Sirius says, and Remus knows he is struggling with his voice.

“I’m sorry—“

“Are you mad? No, you don’t have to say sorry, you idiot.” It makes Remus smile because they conversing in whispers and it feels so beautiful, “Of course, you can say all those things to me, you know vent out, don’t keep it inside you. I just…get you know, anxious. I want to make your pain easier for you. I know how much you suffer but I can’t feel exactly how you do. And it makes me feel indebted, I guess? I don’t know…I just want you to be happy.”

Remus tugs a lock of Sirius’ dark hair behind his ear. His index finger still lingering there.

“Remus,” Sirius continues, “I can’t promise to fix all of your problems, but I promise you that you will not be alone in dealing with them. I’m gonna be here as long as it takes, no matter what and how. I love you, you know that right?”

Remus nods at him, blinking away the tears. Sirius leans into Remus’ left and plants his lips on the cheek which has the long jagged scar. His lips are there for longer than they should have been. He is kissing the scar as if it is something sacred.

And just like that, he uses Remus’ position as leverage to make him fall on the bed. And Sirius lays his head on his chest as he grips his torso. Remus can smell the coconut shampoo from his hair.

“You’re beautiful. And that is my truth.”

Remus hears Sirius say before the sleep drifts so quickly by the aid of each other’s warmth and love.