#he's an asshole and an enigma and i want to learn more about him

[the-anime-man]

this guy is a plague on my mind

[sukunasun]

i wonder who which jjk men are into boobs, butt or legs in the debate 🤔

a.n. should preface this by noting that these parts have their advantages from a functional perspective (i.e. a mouth feels better than a hand) but when it comes to attraction...to each their own. preferences don't mean one lacks in comparison to the other. breasts, butt, belly, and everything else are all beautiful in their own way. they'd like you head to toe. that being said, this is less about appearances and more that every lover fucks in irreplicable ways + how it has influenced their tastes.

geto is an enigma...he'd choose the unpredictable parts and the brain happens to be one of them. mainly because sex is just as much a creative process and he gets bored easily. think up a roleplay scenario and watch how his eyes light up, try a risky position, doggy and missionary are overdone, and show him that toy you really want because it has seven speed levels and fourteen vibrational patterns. the possibilities are endless. the foreplay takes precedence, he doesn't mind pushing the boundaries or "broadening our horizons," as he puts it.

you forget he has whole other sides to him. he gets as passionate and all-consuming as his love for you. heart skipping a beat when he pulls back the curtains and fucks you hard against a window. presents you to the world without fear or shame, just that he's always wanted to try it. 'try' being the keyword here, something about your body being his body too. geto doesn't think he'd learn you well without sneaking in a few surprises.

copping a feel is the same as stealing an innocent kiss. leaving them in uninhabited spots. they're too obvious, too exciting. a secret you two share. no one wants to see his tongue licking a stripe down the nape of your neck while you're busy preparing dinner for company or that they can practically hear the two of you going at it in the bathroom. you can't help the squeal you let out, it's his fault for slipping his thumb past your asshole.

you don't bother to ask why he's so bold. geto's not the kind to elaborate too much outside the bedroom but within those four walls, he's got a dirty mouth, a wicked tongue, and he needs communication. talk you through it and the like. commentary is sexy when he tells you just how perfect you feel, how tight, how wet, how good you are when you milk his cock like you're hungry for it. his come feels so hot, sticking to you like honey, coating your insides like a mark—so tell him. let your mouth do the work.

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gojo on the other hand has an eye for pretty things. loves the art of the tease. spends all the time in the world watching behind his blindfold, letting out longing sighs with cheek pressed into palm fantasizing about lines and shapes fitted upon and in his hands. how large they are, he likes to take his time running them down sloping shoulders, a waist curving inwards, and mouth-watering thighs.

his eyes are just drawn to them, supple and succulent, he likes to get his full of it. all that plump flesh in his hands, you have no business being this sexy. in a pair of jeans, in leggings, or when they peek from below short pretty dresses. diaphanous thing damp with more than just water but your sweaty skin and slick, dripping pussy. it hints and hides just enough, not too much. accentuating, revealing something he can't wait to have. loves that bit of chub that sticks out when you wear thigh-high socks and garters. "you think im letting you leave the house like that?" he warns, fingers tugging at the elastic, wanting to rip them apart. then holds onto it when he drives you anywhere because he’s clingy isn't he? his fingers mark you with heat and his intent to get crushed like a watermelon between them, even when you do the ‘hovering’ straddling thing so you don't 'hurt' him. which is impossible. gojo is more than capable.

he'll pull you back down, wanting to feel your full weight atop him, grips onto them and watches as they tremble and shake. it's the best part. he'll kiss them, bite into the raw skin. not to mention it feels so soft when he’s laying his head on them, feeling you brush his hair back, "i could stay here forever..." he says and means it.

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sukuna wants vulnerability. or rather he expects it of you when he doesn't intend to be gentle. call it arrogance, call it knowing what he likes but sex is also an act of trust and sukuna's the most unwilling when he isn't convinced he has a partner who—for lack of a better term—'matches his freak'. it's ironic when he'll ask "what's in it for me," but transactional, no-strings-attached sex still requires defenselessness.

so it matters that your reactions are a drug and he wants more each time. how you get feistier, friskier, bit by bit as he continues to pinch and prod. your pleasure matters, but don't get there on your own. not before he gets a taste of smooth skin and how it gives under his teeth. tits and ass are so pedestrian, he prefers the more... susceptible parts. a neck, a rib, and an ankle are all very prone to nasty accidents. it'll only hurt more when he won't apologise for the occasional biting bruise or stinging slap. your yelp of excitement is more than a green light for him to yield, inflicting just that little bit of pain.

he's got a tight grip on your wrists, after he's left languid, sloppy kisses down the length of your forearm, he won't say that he loves when you smell like him. a touch is never innocent but territorial when he leaves behind traces.

stop struggling. sukuna's a huge weight atop you like tonnes of water and it stays that way until he's done fucking you. how weak and helpless you are. but it never really ends there, his fingers like to linger, dipping them between the soiled mess you made, so what if he's come inside and you're sensitive, maybe he wants more, maybe he likes the trembling edges of your body, the way your eyes roll back, the choking, garbled plea that spills from you. begging not to stop but to make it last, harder, faster, i want to be full of you—a suffocating closeness.

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there's no need to rush, nanami likes to take his time. won't say he's fervent but he is tired, so he'll rest his head upon a soft stomach. he pulls you in closer every time he's sat by the edge of the bed, a hand reaching out to yours.

buries his face and kisses a line down your sternum while he inhales sweet wafts of your perfume along the way, goosebumps rising to meet chapped lips and feeling that scratchy caress in return. you thank him with the soothing stroke of your fingers, parting blonde strands and massaging those temples. his groan tells you all you need to know. there's nothing better than his dear, bowing head.

he holds onto your middle as you bounce on his dick in reverse cowgirl. wild and wanting he guides you from below and you don't see the cogs turning in his head from where he watches over your shoulder. how could you, you're too busy feeling full from how big and sturdy he feels. chest so broad and steadying you like a brick wall. it's then his two large hands trail down, hot to the touch, to cup your womb in this warm and...careful hold.

he leaves them there while the bulging spot juts up to meet his pressing fingers, where the head of his cock is no doubt pummelling your cervix. it's too deep, knocking the wind out of you, but you won't stop him. his thumb caresses the shape, the skin, whole palm pressing down and judging by the scream you let out the pressure is immense. in and out, he's more transfixed with how big he is, how much he fills you up, and how you take him so well.

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toji is a simple man with simple tastes. call it an oral fixation. a pussy tastes like heaven and feels even more so. all the things you could do with one, make her come, make her edge, he definitely prides himself on giving you the best orgasms with just his mouth or fingers. there's no need to complicate things, this man loves money but he might love pussy just a little more.

he doesn't get squeamish, toji stuffs his face and goes to town every time. hands spreading your legs apart, cupping your ass, he likes it when you grip his head tight too, either way, he's making out with it, hungrily lapping with tongue broad and flat, he licks and finds his way deeper.

in the middle of the night, he reaches under the covers for a feel. it's so soft and pliant when he slips his fingers in. he doesn't need to do much as you stir awake, toji kisses behind your ears, feeling you spread for him. "let me play with it," he grunts out, like he woke up and decided he needed to finger you.

there's jolt running up his spine the moment the head of his cock meets the slick, sticky folds of your pussy. he glides and stains the sheets with your combined juices, this wetness that clings to him. thin strands connected everytime he tap, tap, taps. if he were less eager he might just wait it out, let the tip kiss your clit and make it twitch.

but you're so swollen and ready for him, for when he stretches you out so wide you feel him splitting you in half. your aching back and hips can't withstand his heavy, brutal thrusts. pounding and pounding, you swallow him up like nothing, coated in cream and dripping with squirted mess, still spits on it because he can. squeezing him tight like a vacuum, he could never replicate this with his hand. maybe it's why he's so addicted, the sight of his cock moving in and out from between your splayed legs is better than a dream.

[sinisternymphette]

fade into you - modern au!levi

because...I've been thinking about him recently... this is just a cute little self-indulging fic I made.. this is the first time I've ever written him so I apologize if he's a bit uncharacteristic. (also I wrote this in 2 am) Two pov's are here!! (use of f!reader)

⎯ 1984, huh. Good read, classic. You heard a gruff voice speak to you, making you look up almost immediately. Your gaze was met with a rather short middle-aged man's cold yet beautiful silver-blue eyes, his lips an unamused thin line which held no emotion in them. He was wearing an apron, which meant he was one of the people working in the quaint little teashop you were in. You tilted your head slightly to the side in confusion, blinking slowly as if you were a feline. However, you soon figured out he was talking about the book you were so carefully holding- 1984 by George Orwell. He was one of your favorite authors, so earlier this week, you were giddy to learn that your local library had more of his works. And so, you had to pick the next one on your list.

a faint ''oooh!'' left your mouth, staring at him and giving him a brief nod as a close-mouthed smile started to form on your glossy lips a little awkwardly. You gave a quick side glance at the menu that laid on the old and rounded wooden table before you met his eyes again.

⎯ Umm yeah, you started, voice vibrating slightly in a sheepish response to the unexpected comment. No one had ever come up to you before to mention the book you were reading. In fact, this was the first time you've caught a stranger's attention, no matter the reason. In a flick of a moment, you looked at the man in front of you up and down- he had short and straight, sleek black hair which was styled in an undercut curtain. He had dark circles under his eyes, something that you could relate to- though yours weren't as noticeable as his. His appearance almost reminded you to a sickly victorian child mixed with a history teacher, especially because of his stature and choice of clothing. He was wearing a white long-sleeved shirt under his apron, dark brown trousers with a black leather belt and simple black oxfords.

⎯ I love his books. Animal Farm is one of my favorites- actually. You continued, a slight glimmer in your eyes as you spoke softly in almost a murmur. You placed the book on your lap before bringing one of your hands to brush some strands out of your face, placing them under your ears. ⎯ short, but a masterpiece.

The black-haired man's expression remained the same, though you were also met with a slight scoff. He seemed to be unamused, despite his interest in the beginning. This made you pout faintly, only a little. ⎯ Hm, I can agree with that. he mumbled, cold eyes meeting yours again and crossed his arms in front of his chest. His gaze and tone of voice might have made him seem uninterested and cold, but somehow, he still gave off a somewhat 'welcoming' aura, which was strange- to say the least. You guessed he was one of them closed-off types. ⎯ Did you sit here only to talk about Orwell, or do you actually want to drink some tea as well? he suddenly asked, which caught you completely off-guard. You slowly brought your hands together over the book that was sitting on your lap to fidget your fingers with each other in a nervous manner, a tiny frown forming on your features where once laid a soft expression. Usually, people were easy for you to read- but this man seemed like a puzzle, an enigma. Part of you thought that he was simply an asshole, while the other wanted to believe he didn't mean to come off like that- especially by the immediate reaction he had to his own words, his silver slits of eyes widening by the slightest, a glimmer of regret behind them. Still, you didn't want to assume. ⎯ Oh. That was all what was able to come out for a few moments, disappointment and shock carrying that simple word. You glanced to the side. ⎯ Right. Sorry. I'll be getting an hmm.. Arrowroot tea. Small cup, please. A glass of water with that, too. You were finally able to word something, and despite your attempts at sounding firm like him, you came off more awkward than you wanted to, voice as soft as a feather. Oops, so much for being strong and confident.

His gaze lingered on you for a few moments, silence filling the air around the both of you. ⎯ Mhm. With that, he simply gave you a nod, turned around and walked back behind the counters of the shop where all the brewing equipment and coffee-making machines were, murmuring briefly with the other person working there- A brunette, young woman -who seemed to be some years younger than you- with wide brown eyes and her hair up in a ponytail, wearing an apron like the man's. The woman's gaze landed on yours, though you quickly glanced away, staring right down onto your book. He probably said something rude about you to her, despite the fact that you didn't do anything. You just knew it, you felt it.

Your thoughts, however, were interrupted after a few minutes by the sudden sound of him clearing his throat, standing right next to you. You perked your head up ⎯ Here. He placed the warm cup on the table, not bothering to look at you. ⎯ It's 3 dollars. In a swift motion, you opened the zipper of the bag that was sitting on the chair next to yours and pulled out your purse, taking out the pennies of money you owed. Before you were able to turn your back and hand him the money, he placed a small and pretty little porcelain rounded plate in front of you, 2 scones with strawberry jam on it. Strange.. you didn't order those. ⎯ I think you got my order wrong, I didn't ask fo- you spoke up as you turned, though your words were immediately cut off by his husky voice. ⎯ On the house. his gaze softened to some extent, except it switched back to his former one in a blink of an eye. You looked back to the scones, then looked at him again with clear confusion as you gave him the money- your fingers touching his for only seconds before they didn't anymore. Was this because he felt bad about the rudeness from before, or did the girl he was with talked some sense into him? Maybe your hearing was broken. ⎯ Really? you almost blurted out, which caused him to chuff in response, slightly rolling his eyes. ⎯ Yes. Take it or leave it. Despite the roughness that came off with that sentence and the stoic expression on his face, he seemed to have done it as an attempt to hide the way the thin lines of his lips curled up- however minuscule it was. You honestly found it a bit funny and strange, why he was trying to act like such an angry and grumpy little old man instead of just..being normal. ⎯ Uh..thanks, I guess. You replied, rewarding him with a soft smile as you took the cup and brought it to your lips, taking a small sip while you sniffed, enjoying the tea's smell.

⎯ Enjoy your tea. He replied with a brief nod of his head while his gaze remained on you for a short moment before he eventually let out a scoff, though it didn't really seem to be from annoyance, but from something else. You weren't 100% sure though. He then turned away once again and went back to tidying up some tables, occasionally glancing your way. You didn't pay much attention to him though because as soon as he left; you opened your book, took out the lace page marker you had carefully placed in the last page you've been reading, placed it back on the table and got emerged in the story. You furrowed your eyebrows, a sign you were concentrated and not paying attention to your surroundings while you hummed softly to yourself.

Levi walked back to his spot after restlessly cleaning the same table for the past 10 minutes. He had a frown on his face, a dark and gloomy expression as he huffed, using his arm to wipe off some of the little sweat that was starting to form on his forehead. He got behind the counter while Gabi took the task of making the tea, and she quickly turned to look at him as she brewed the order she just got. An amused smile played on her lips, snickering softly which made Levi give her a scowl. ⎯ What do you want, brat. he murmured, bringing his hand to pinch his temples. He was way too embarrassed already, having pulled that stupid little stunt back there and acting like a complete ass to that woman. He didn't even mean to say what he did, but for some reason, the woman made his words get caught in his throat- and it made him confused, it was an unusual thing to happen, a new feeling, so he didn't like that. Still, that wasn't an excuse to act the way he did. And internally, he was still cussing at himself. ⎯ Sooo, did she accept the scones? She asked, a playful glint in her eyes as she waited for his response. Levi sighed. ⎯ What do you think? You see them in my hands? Gabi nodded, understanding what he meant and that it was a warning for her to mind her own business. As much as she loved teasing the old man, she didn't like getting on his bad side, especially if he was already having a rough day. Levi stood there, crossing his arms and leaning over the counter next to the cash register as his gaze traveled through the shop, though his eyes always seemed to land on the woman's even if he didn't intend to. Damnit.

He wasn't sure what caused him to be like this. Usually, he was too focused on his work to even notice the clients he was having. He didn't care about socializing with any of them, or making any new friends. After all, he was already happy with the ones he already had- Falco and Gabi, who were his adopted children, his best friends Erwin, Hange, Miche and Onyankopon, and his dumbass almost-siblings Isabel and Furlan. He didn't need anyone else, nor wanted anyone else. So why was his body acting against his mind?

⎯ She's real pretty she whispered, trying to act discreetly as she nodded towards her with her head, leaning against the wall next to Levi. He shrugged, clearly unamused by her comment as he glanced down, acting as if he was tiding the cash inside the cash register. He didn't respond, just glanced towards the woman's way every few moments. Gabi then left to tend a costumer, a tray on one of her hands with a warm cup of tea.

Some times passed, and you finally got out of the trance-like state you were in as your read your book, head perking up as you yawned softly. Drinking tea always made you sleepy, which was a pleasant feeling. It calmed you down, especially while reading. A content sigh escaped your lips, and you slowly stood up to grab your bag and put your things inside before you fixed your now slightly messy hair. ⎯ Done with your tea, huh. you heard the now familiar cold voice speak up behind you, realizing he was probably waiting for you to finish all this time. You nodded his way, turning fully to look at him correctly. ⎯ Yup, tea and scones were very good, thank you. You replied, your voice sounding more kind now. You looked at the now empty cup in your hand before looking at him, making a small chuckle ⎯ Do I leave this here, or is there a trash can where I can drop this? he shook his head, pulling up his hand in a way of saying no. ⎯ Leave it here. he said with usual tone, his silver eyes looking up and down at you, almost as if he was scanning you. He then took a cloth from his pocket and started to wipe the table clean, no longer looking at you and his expression immediately became stoic again. And so, with that, you started to walk away without looking back. You were tired now, and all you wanted was to go home, take a warm bath and loath on your bed. However, as you were about to open the door, the bell chiming softly, you heard his voice again. ⎯ Will you be coming here again? Your eyes widened as you listened, the tone in his voice almost sounding hopeful, even if it was just a little bit. You turned to look at him one last time, nodding. ⎯ I really liked this place. So yeah, I probably will.

You didn't know, but deep down inside of him, with those simple words you just spoke, a warm and fuzzy feeling stirred in his tummy, even if all he did was nod in response and turn to keep doing what he was doing. A tiny, small, minuscular but content smile almost appeared on his lips. He was glad. Glad that he would see you again, and he couldn’t wait for you to return, as much as he tried to convince himself he didn't.

@sinisternymphette 2024

[weixuldo]

Enigma// ch 12

anakin x reader

a/n: this chapter skips around a lot just cause i want it to get to the climax quicker lollll- i’ve had the conflict planned since around ch 2 and it’s coming up :)))

Time goes by and your “thing” with anakin evolves

NSFW

(pls read a/n @ the end for insight into the upcoming chapters)

warnings: cursing, cannon disabled character, sex, insecurity

_______________________________

Days went by, then weeks, and eventually months of spending time with the veteran.

Over that time, you found him growing closer and closer. The two of you spent much more time together; most weekends you would spend at his place and he would take you to dinner once a week.

With each passing day you were closer to figuring out the puzzle that was his mind.

As you learned more about him you realized his aloof attitude was more of a coping mechanism rather than his actual personality.

He was kindhearted and sensitive; as you uncovered the real Anakin Skywalker his “asshole moments” began to disperse.

Around the third time the two of you went out, Anakin officially asked you to be his girlfriend.

That night, you had picked him up from his place because the two of you were headed to a nice restaurant in the next town over; he had been having some pain that day so he didn’t feel comfortable driving that far, plus it was raining that night.

The two of you had finished your meal and were sitting in the parking lot as the storm raged on outside; it was far too stormy to drive back now, so you chose to sit it out in the car.

You decided to take advantage of the rain and cloud cover by engaging in some more frisky activities.

As the two of you cooled down from your work out, Anakin placed a gloved hand on your thigh and asked you if you were happy, well happy with him.

You were worried he was going to tell you this thing needed to stop, but you told him the truth regardless.

His expression changed from unreadable to a look of…relief?

“I wanted nothing more than to hear you say those things y/n. I feel the same way and i-if you would like to, I’d like us to take this to the next level” he stated, his other hand rubbing against his thigh.

“Ani, I’d love to be yours, if that’s what you mea-“

He smiled beautifully and was genuinely happy as he pulled you over the center console to sit in his lap. You giggled as you tossed your arms around his neck and he held you.

All of the doubts you had, all of the concerns- subsided for a moment as he held you close.

You were content.

_____________________________

You spent more time as a couple and decided neither of you wanted the drama that would come with telling people you were together.

The main concern was drama because of your age gaps; but you were also worried that the relationship would change your dynamics with the group- Ahsoka, Ben and Satine.

Anakin had other reasons, not that he would admit them to you, but he was worried that if other people got involved he would self sabotage because a piece of him was still scarred from the Padme situation… he didn’t feel deserving of love.

So it was better this way, you got to have your private relationship with Anakin and all there was to back it up was speculation; neither of you publicly confirmed or denied it.

The method worked for the most part; Ahsoka only noted that you and Anakin spent a weird amount of time together once when she was totally shit faced.

You were pretty sure Ben and Satine knew though, they just had that look whenever all of you would get together for dinners—like they knew what the two of you were doing.

But secrecy aside, you had never been happier.

You were free to be yourself around him and he accepted all of you. He loved hearing stories of your childhood and the adventures you would embark on in the forest behind your house.

Lots of nights you would just be rambling about random topics and he would lay beside you in bed just observing you adoringly.

He’d brush your thigh every once in a while and tuck story strands of hair behind your ear.

But he listened.

He listened to every word and remembered every detail.

Sometimes he would bring up something you didn’t even remember telling him and when you would ask how he remembered, he would say “When it comes to you, I want to remember every moment”.

He truly was a romantic; you never would have guessed the brooding man at the bar being such a lovesick fool.

And a love sick fool he was, he was hesitant at first, but once he got comfortable he let his feelings be known.

He told you he loved you around the 3 and a half months in

“I love you”

You knew it took a lot of courage for him to say that and that he was allowing himself to be extremely vulnerable with you.

“Really?” Your own doubt caused you to ask.

“Yes y/n, I do” he reiterated with a small smile.

Your face lit up and you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into his embrace.

“I love you so much Anakin, I just wanted to wait until I knew you let the same… I didn’t want to scare you off” you admitted.

“Damn, you shoulda told me, I would have confessed weeks ago if I knew” he teased.

“Really?!” had he loved you for weeks?

“Really.” He confirmed, pulling you in for a long kiss.

_____________________________

School was almost out for the summer and to relieve stress from finals you and Anakin were getting busy with other activities.

Watching a good show? Pause it. It can wait.

Baking? Toss the dough in the fridge for a little.

Sleepy? Help each other wake up.

On a date? The parking garage isn’t too far away.

Basically every scenario had an exception.

There were times he would just drive you to your classes the next day because your legs were shaking too much to go home the night before.

For a man who hadn’t had sex in a decade, he sure knew how to move his hips.

Maybe it was from the sheer deprivation he had, but every time he fucked you, he fucked you like his life depended on it.

He would grab at your body as he buried his cock into you and hold you close as he managed to thrust himself in and out of you.

You loved the cool feeling of his bionic hands grasping at your ass when you rode him; his pretty moans and the euphoric faces he would make were. Just heavenly.

One time you recalled cumming just from watching his expressions.

You liked the view of his silver dog tags dangling off of his neck when he would be on top of you; the cool silver would make you shiver when it would brush your warm breasts.

Along with becoming accustomed to constant sex with your boyfriend, you also learned proper aftercare for him. As much as he hated to admit it, he did have a disability and there were specific steps that had to be taken after a session.

First, his inhaler always had to be close by when you would start; there wasn’t a time where he didn’t need the medicine after fucking you. Often, you would help him sit up and administer it to him.

Most of the time he would have his prosthetics on, because it was easier to actually have sex, but with the intensity that he would fuck you, the friction often caused the limbs to rub on the sensitive skin around his stumps. So afterwards while he was stabilizing his breathing you would start taking off his limbs.

He wasn’t particularly thrilled that this was part of the aftercare routine, but the in the beginning of the relationship, he stubbornly left them on and his stumps actually became inflamed and he had to use his wheelchair for a week.

Taking the prosthetics off allowed his limbs to breathe and helped him cool down. After a few times you got the hang of the routine and thought nothing of it, it wasn’t a hassle at all,

it was part of loving Anakin.

He was still not the most confident about his appearance so he was still a little uncomfortable with the situation, but he really appreciated your respect and patience with him. He knew he could be an ass, but for you, he tried him damn hardest not to be.

After all, he loved you.

***

a/n: guys i actually love them :)) i’m ngl im implementing a trope that i’m not a big big fan of BUT im using it more for angst rather than actually liking that trope (if that makes sense lol) hope you guys enjoy and stick w me !!)

taglist: @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana

[xxchthonicreaturexx]

Matchup Trade with @frostfall-matches

Hello hello :) Thank you for doing the trade with me <3 The MysMes match might be a little off since it's been a long time since I've played or read anything from the fandom, but here it is! Hope you like it :)

Twisted Wonderland

Lilia Vanrouge ~

....My little gramp vamp <3

I decided to match you with Lilia :) Why? You know why.

Okay so first of all, your styles would completely go hand in hand. Like hands down, whether it's you or your self insert, from what you describe it's the same kind of alternative vibe. Like, have you seen Lilia's band/pop club outfit? You guys would probably lowkey be matching from what I imagine. And he probably will ask to borrow your combat boots from time to time. They kinda remind him of his time as a War General to be honest...

(Plus your insert is a Fae? Hello? He won't have to worry about you growing old and dying like he is Silver?)

That being said, Lilia is a little asshole of a rascal, and he will prank you just to get you to snark some attitude towards him. (It probably turns him on.) Like he'll do everything in his power to spook you and annoy you just to have a smirk on his face while you shoot him some insulting little quip. Oh but what he'd do to see you ACTUALLY annoyed for once-

While you're distant but respectful, he's more so...everywhere and nowhere all at once. Bro is an enigma, and somehow you got stuck with him. But underneath all the spooky pranks and vampiric allure, he's actually kinda a sad man. He's been around, he has seen some shit, and i mean he's literally a dad so?? He knows coping mechanisms when he sees them. He won't force you to talk. He knows not to pry and try and help you when you havent asked, but he makes it known that he's there to help if there ever comes a time that past trauma pops up. He makes sure you know that he's just an old fae with coping mechanisms too.

Despite being a fae that knows more than most, he doesn't enjoy babying people, fae - human, doesn't matter. He doesn't baby people, and he can recognize that you're independent without him. It's more so you entertain him. You guys are able to play around and yet be serious on another level as well. (He probably encourages you to break rules with him)

Lilia definitely has you play video games with him. Wants you to play that shoot-em up game with Idia at some point, even if Idia will probably rat on you the whole time. (Like he has room to talk-)

I can guarantee too that he will learn languages with you. I mean, he's how many centuries old? He probably already knows multiple. With time like that, he probably is at LEAST Trilingual. Studying together would be cute though <3

Overall score 8/10.

Lilia is an amazing character, but cons would be his pranks. Bro is a menace and he will never stop. Also he's been around for YEARS so he lowkey thinks he knows everything- I imagine living with him for so long will get annoying but he's incredibly loyal and entertaining!

Runnerups: Malleus or Floyd (...Don't question- I had ideas...)

Mystic Messenger

Zen (Hyun Ryu)~

Okay so HEAR ME OUT...

Zen is a cool guy but he's a little....narcissistic. BUT I do believe you have just enough of a mix of blunt attitude and slight arrogance to make him reel back and be like "Woah-" Because lets be honest, just because he has a pretty face doesn't mean he can be all about himself. (Well sometimes.)

On the other side, it's also known that Zen can be very self doubting and beats himself up at any miniscule mistake. Again, you're blunt and have enough spark to quickly reassure and pull him from his depression.

Ex: Zen -"Sweetie, I appreciate your help, but as far as I'm concerned I can't get this role. I screwed up while auditioning. I failed."

(Probably) You - "Stfu- It was a tiny voice crack no one probably even noticed. You're seriously gonna mope? Get over your pity party."

Or atleast how I imagined you two would kinda banter. He can be SLIGHTLY overdramatic.

He'd definitely take you on cafe dates though. He knows the best spots and he can afford those real fancy drinks. Oh and don't even get him started on DIY or home projects- He's setting up pinterest boards, finding aesthetic blogs, and posting cute pics and vids all over social media. It's a win-win. Content for his fans and he's spending time with you doing something fun! Not to mention he'd ask you to work out with him. A jog? Hiking? Still physical activity to him!

He's not super into gaming but I don't think he shuns it (that I remember anyways-) but he might just go ask 707 for some tips and ask to play a multiplayer game with you. Something easier though like Mario Kart or Gang Beasts. Lighthearted and easy to learn.

Oh and the TRAVELING- oh honey- Zen is a somewhat successful performer so I GUARANTEE that he travels whenever he has the chance. You wanna go back to Korea? Absolutely. Spain? Why not. Antarctica? Not sure why you'd want to, but maybe there'll be penguins!

Overall: I'd give you guys 7/10. Zen is a good guy, really! But you two might clash sometimes, just because he does come off a little narcissistic sometimes. He doesn't mean to, in fact it's a coping mechanism for his own self doubt, but it just comes off the wrong way sometimes. Overall though, he's handsome, has money to travel, and would definitely learn languages with you for the sake of getting new roles and whatever else!

Runnerup: 707

Thank you again <3

[ted616]

Psychology in CSM: Denji's relationships and how they affect his character. Also a bit of how he affects them.

So. I was really bored and haven’t stopped thinking about CSM since finishing the manga more than a month ago. So here comes a big essay in well, what it says on the top. Just kinda letting my thoughts out about stuff and my interpretations. I think (!) I mostly understand everything well, but who knows.

Beware. This is LONG. a LOT of text is coming. a LOT.

First of all.

Denji is presented as a somewhat relatable, teenage MC. What this means is– Even if his life experiences are really specific, specially because of how absurd CSM is as a whole– His way of thinking and living is one that easily resonates with any teenage boy reading this manga. His kinda stupid, charming, genuinely kind-hearted and just wants people to love him. It is all throughout Part 1 that he tackles his own feelings and humanity, and learns from all the shit that happens to him. So let’s get a recap on all the people in his life and how each character affected him to become who he is in Part 2. (This is being written after the release of Chapter 120, so yeah).

The most important person to understand Denji’s psyche I believe is a character we do not know much about. No name, no design, almost nothing–

Denji’s Mother.

As it was said before, we know little about this character. The only data we have is that she died when Denji was still young (probably aroud 1 to 4 years old or so), and that it was from a heart disease he inherited and was “cured” of when Pochita fused with him.

Why is this character so important? Because it is her death that sets up one of the “pillars” of Denji’s personality and story.

Denji never had a mom, truly. Because she died when he was so young, he doesn’t hold memories of her. From a young age, he was robbed of a maternal figure and left with many men who made his life all the harder and shittier. It is the lack of a maternal figure that makes Denji initially fall in love with Makima, as he finally found the comfort and “love” of a mother in her, one he doesn’t fully understand; as he never once had it and only thought of women as people to please him until that very moment. That is why he seeks Makima’s affection, why he decides to join Public Safety and the hunt for the Gun Devil, because then Makima would do anything he wants! And because he loves her, that’d be perfect, right?

The lack of a Mother is what made Denji the perfect target for Makima, a young boy who had never really felt *love* and who had the Chainsaw Devil inside her. It is because he was robbed of that affection at such a young age that she could manufacture it for him and later on destroy it. Sure, if he actually had a caring mother everything would’ve probably gone a similar route! But it is because he didn’t have one that it was so easy for Makima to do. It’s grim, and fucked up! But everything in CSM is like that, and I think it’s really interesting to think and talk about.

Denji’s mom is truly an enigma of a character, and we don’t really know anything about her as a character. But I think that’s what makes the mysticism around Denji’s past so interesting and intriguing, and why I personally love to write/read about it in fanfiction. I really hope we see more of that past in the future, but at the same time feel like it’d be hard to do/and we really don’t *need* it to understand Denji’s character further.

Anyways. To the next asshole.

Denji’s father.

We don’t know much about his dad either, but we do know more about him than about Denji’s mom.

Denji’s dad was a drunk asshole, who had a multi million yen-worth debt with the yakuza for a reason. For what we know, he abused Denji physically and verbally, probably as a result of his mom’s early passing? And it was because of that abuse that Denji responded, defending himself and killing the man by his own hand.

It is here where Denji faces his first trauma. He runs away from the reality of him being his own father’s killer, taking advantage of the set-up made by the yakuza to fool himself into thinking of it as a suicide for what was most likely around a decade. It’s a fact that would break him if he ever remembered, and it’s one of the triggers that Makima pulls to awaken the Chainsaw Devil from him at the end of Part 1.

I see this event as the first in a series of different happenings that feed onto something– Denji’s guilt. In Part 2 we see a sadder, more tired Denji; who’s eyes look almost empty and who probably isn’t getting nearly enough sleep as he should. That can be for many reasons, and one of the reasons I believe is the sheer guilt he feels after the events of Part 1. Because he caused everyone around him to die, becuase he killed his own dad. He’s really different to the Denji from Part 1, because he has to face the reality he’s in; one where everyone he cared about has died, one where he sees himself as at least a partial reason for their deaths, and his father’s death is what “starts” this. His mom died of a heart virus, so that couldn’t be his fault– But he killed his dad. In self-defense, and we do know that the bastard deserved it– But he still killed a man. Not a fiend taking his best friend’s body, not Power being killed because he was controlled by Makima to open a door.

With his own hands, before even becoming a half-devil, when he was fully human, he killed a man. It doesn’t matter the reason, that weighs too heavily on anyone’s shoulders, and that’s why his subconscious hid away the memory for so long, and why Pochita tried to bury it further once he became one with Denji; because it would completely break him. And, as an audience, we know what happened when he finally remembered. 

And lastly, I won’t linger long on his relations with the yakuza, because most of what could be said is clear in the manga. For years, he was used and beaten around for a debt that wasn’t his, and finally he was betrayed by the same people that used him and “killed”. 

With these three examples a lot of stuff is clear, but one is most interesting to me.

Denji, in his 16 years he’s lived before the start of CSM, has never felt truly loved by a human. In his entire life, all the people around him have used and abused him, and the only who didn’t and who would’ve possibly loved him died when he was too young. Denji doesn’t have any real reasons to have any attachment to Humanity. The same humanity that wronged him, made him feel like shit, that starved him for weeks, that the best it would give him was stale bread and trash food– For all we know, without Makima in the picture he probably would’ve stayed by his own after the Zombie Devil fight and probably made himself an enemy of both Devils and Humans, possibly killing a bunch of the latter (especially if Public Safety tried going after him, something that surely would’ve happened).

Anyways. This goes directly to one of the most important characters in this manga.

Pochita.

We enter the field where I could make a specific post talking about each of these characters, so I’ll try not to make it too long and just talk about his relationship with Denji and all that. Sorry if it ends up being a slog.

Pochita meets Denji right after the death of his father, and makes it so Denji isn’t alone anymore. Pochita is widely different to everyone Denji’s ever met, as he indeed is, a Devil. Denji clearly didn’t know too much about devils at this point, and so seeing one like Pochita– A little dog, bleeding out in the open and whimpering in fear– He takes the initiative in helping the little mutt in exchange for help.

Via their contract, they become each other’s first ever friend. Pochita finally fills the hole within Denji’s heart, the one of a caring person who would listen to him and make him feel loved, even if he were a mere dog; while Denji finally fulfills Pochita’s dream of having a friend to hug him, something that was impossible for him until recently as we would later on learn.

Pochita is another reason for my point of Denji not caring about humanity. His only friend, ever, was a devil. The only one who listened to him, cared about him and made him feel loved, and gave him warmth in the cold nights in his shack, and who he shared every meal with– A devil. 

Finally, it is Pochita who makes one of the biggest sacrifices in the whole of Chainsaw Man. Pochita gives away his own free will, his life in a sense, for Denji’s sake. Pochita’s dream was already fulfilled, so now he merely desires to see Denji’s come to fruition, and experience those moments with him, even if Pochita isn’t really *there* anymore. Furthermore, even when the Chainsaw Devil is reawaken and Denji’s mind totally breaks, what Pochita tries to do is completely opposed to what one would think a devil like him would do. Totally opposed to what Makima would’ve expected, too.

Pochita tries to run, tries to do all of the things Denji dreamed about when they were still with each other physically, all the things Denji talked to him about. He tries to eat a burguer at a fast food place, tries to go on a date with the only girl Denji knew at the time, anything that would trigger Denji’s humanity and would bring him back.

Finally, Pochita trusts on someone else to Denji. After all his attempts are ruined, after Makima has them pinned down– Pochita locates the little bit of blood from Power, and “revives” her with that. Pochita trusts Power, because he knows Denji loves her like he loves Pochita, because he trusts that at least she could do what’s right to help their friend. And, finally, it is by Pochita’s trust on her, and Power’s own trust in Denji, that he can come back. 

Something to be noted is that Pochita isn’t *dead*. He lives within Denji, talks with him in dreams, and they even somehow interact within his mind. Pochita still actively cares for what’s best for Denji, and wishes him to do what’s best for others (Like in the case of Nayuta). Pochita is, to some extent, a figure that still helps Denji out in his journey, even though he can’t be there with him anymore.

I could really write a whole different essay on Pochita as a character, but that’s for some other day. Anyways, I’m gonna leave Makima for the end, so the next character’d be–

Aki.

Aki is the first actual instance that Denji has of someone, *a human*, caring for him. Aki cooked for Denji, gave him a roof, a bed, clothing, etc. Even if it was all somewhat fabricated by Makima, Aki and Denji learned to love each other like siblings nonetheless. They sadly didn’t have too much time together, but we, as an audience, know that the time they did have was the happiest one for the both of them. Denji had a family, a brother and a sister, who cared for him and who he cared for; who watched TV with him and enjoyed having him around. 

All the while, for the first time since he was a child, Aki gained a family. After all those years, he slowly stopped caring for revenge, and now only cared to make sure that those two’s lives were safe and sound, even after his inevitable death. It reached a point where he was willing to pull away from killing the Gun Devil, because he didn’t care about the mission anymore, or at least cared less about it than he did about Denji’s and Power’s wellbeings; because when he was faced with the possibility of them dying, he got scared. Afraid.

All in all, the Denji we’re seeing now in Part 2 is a lot like the Aki from Part 1. He’s keeping up a house with a devil and 8 animals, cooking, getting all the money he can get to sustain them all and pay for Nayuta’s tuiton, while having to take care of all the dogs around and such. I’d imagine that many of the things he has to do daily now would be impossible if not for the influence Aki had on his life, and the imprint he left as an actual (somewhat) responsible adult. 

And again, Aki’s death feeds into Denji's guilt and current mental state directly. Even if it was most likely a lie and impossible, he may still believe that he could’ve done something to prevent it. That he could’ve saved Aki, that he could’ve reciprocated all the love and care he gave them, but didn’t. This may enter the headcanon field a bit too much, but I do believe that we’ve seen him mention Power but not Aki for a reason– Because he had closure with Power. Because he promised to find the Blood Devil and turn it into Power again. Meanwhile, the last time he saw Aki was the day he left their home and came back as a fiend. Never did he have the chance to say goodbye, to make any promise to hold to, anything. Aki left their home, the Gun Fiend came back knocking and he had to kill it. He had to give in, to lose all belief that the Aki he knew was still there, because he had to. Even thinking about him probably damages Denji like nothing else, to think of the brother he lost, the one he killed. The one person he could’ve saved.

Anyways. Aki’s character is also a deep one that I’d love to talk about some other day, so let’s keep going.

Power.

I’ve seen many people interpreting Denji and Power’s dynamic as a romantic, and while I wouldn’t *judge* people over it, it does rub me the wrong way. Because many times it is established that they do not hold any romantic feelings for each other. They do find comfort in one another like they don’t with anyone else, but it is always claimed how Denji doesn’t feel any attraction towards her like he does with the likes of Makima or Reze.

Anyways. As it is said by Power herself, Denji is her first friend. The first human to care about her in any way, to help her out even after she wronged him, fooling him to be food for the Bat Devil. Even after that, he sticked with her, ultimately finding in Power the sister he never had, someone even more fucked up and dirty and asshole-y than himself, who hid away her care for others in her own pride; but clearly needed him and Aki to persist.

It was Denji who helped Power through her PTSD of the Darkness Devil fight, while Power was one of the people who stuck with him through everything, who *cared* about Denji.

It is with her sacrifice that we can see this to the fullest extent. At that point, most of the people around him cared about the Chainsaw Man, and the Chainsaw Man only.

Devils wanted him dead because he was the Chainsaw Man. Reze, for all Denji knew, just wanted to get the Chainsaw’s heart. Makima only cared about Chainsaw Man, and thought of Denji as a repulsive insult to the Chainsaw’s “legacy” or “mystique”, of sorts.

Power cared and believed in Denji. She believed in him, she knew he could defeat the Control Devil, and she knew he could continue his life forward. Without Aki, and maybe without Power herself; because she knew Denji. She knew Denji could withstand the worst of shits and come back from it, and she believed in him to find the Blood Devil and turn into “herself” again.

And with that comes another point that I raise. Maybe also a little bit too headcanon-y, but I want to get it out.

When Devils die and are reborn, they forget their previous lives entirely. That’s why Nayuta can be raised to be a better person than what Makima was, the whole nature vs. nurture thing. Why am I bringing it up?

When the Blood Devil comes back, it won’t be Power. If Denji gets the Blood Devil to befriend him, and he gets to tell her all about her past life, it may turn into something *like* Power. Dirty, egotistical, but caring and loving of her family. But the memories won’t be there. The experiences Denji, Aki and Power had together would still only survive in Denji’s mind.

The Blood Devil may be capable of being like Power, but it isn’t capable of *being* Power. And that’s alright, because I believe that’s what Power wanted when she made her contract with Denji.

Power knew she’d die, and she knew she wouldn’t remember her past life. I believe, and remember, this may be a little too headcanon-y, but I believe that Power doesn’t plan on “coming back”. Power planned for the Blood Devil to come to Earth and learn to love, learn to live happily with a family, just like she herself did. She wants Denji to have someone there for him, someone like Power, even though Power herself isn’t really *there*. She merely wants the new Blood Devil to have the chance to experience the beautiful life Power had with Denji and Aki, because as a fiend and devil herself, she knows how great it truly is. To have people caring about you, to share your meals with others, to sleep in the same bed with no true romantic intentions. To have a family.

Now, what do we get from all of this?

First, all of these people showed and taught many things to Denji.

Aki taught him that humans can be kind and caring out of their own heart, not expecting anything in return. Pochita helped him be himself, live life at its fullest just like he dreamed for so long. And Power taught him why he shouldn’t merely chase women for romance, why and how anyone can just be your friend, or even something far beyond than a mere friend, while not being in a romantic relationship. 

But most importantly, Power and Aki are what ultimately proves something to Denji; he’s human. It may’ve been said by Makima originally, and maybe it was with her that he cried for the first time, but it’s not truly the same.

He came into Public Safety doubting if he was truly human anymore, doubting if he’d ever cry for people or himself ever again. When Pochita “died”, he didn’t cry. When Himeno died, it stung, but he didn’t really care that much. He thought it’d be the same with Aki and Power, both because maybe he just didn’t have a human heart anymore, and because, who would care for those assholes?

But alas, he did care. He cared, maybe too much, just like they also cared about him. Their deaths were what broke him, what changed him, what somewhat killed Part 1’s Denji and his innocence and his persona, what birthed the more laid-back, depressed and guilty Part 2 Denji. Because he truly cared about them like no one else, because they were the world for him, because it was with them that he truly was human. In a way, Denji opened many doors, and let these people into his life, let them change him and shape how he is as a person, and even though he loved them and they loved him back, that is what made everything hurt so much in the end.

That is why he wanted to give up. Why he wanted to just die, because his life had already been too good, it had reached its peak and then it had crashed down directly to the ground. It is Power’s words and contract that rekindled something within him.

Power’s sheer belief in him was what made him want to go on. Live, and defeat the monster that had broken his family into pieces. Even though he still loved that monster, he had to keep going and defeat it, for Power’s and Aki’s sake, for his family. He couldn’t give up, because that would mean all the love the three of them shared was in vain, a mere fabrication made by someone else in a twisted game, and that just wasn’t true. Because he loved them so much, because they gave everything for each other, their bond was real, and he had to fight for it. 

yeah i love the hayakawa sibs a lot. miss them too.

Anyways, we’re reaching the end (i think). there’s not many characters left for me to go over, but who knows.

Here comes a big one. I may not be the best person to describe this relationship, but I’ll try to, at least.

Reze.

Reze and Denji’s relationship is a tragic one, probably the most tragic out of Denji’s friends and such. 

Reze, like Denji, was a child who was treated harshly and used by those around her, growing up as a weapon for her government, not too unlike Makima herself. It is because of that that she’s sent to take the Chainsaw Devil’s heart, and so, she meets Denji. Not the Chainsaw Man, but Denji.

She was supposed to get close to him first to take his heart, and so, she did. She met Denji, a kid awfully similar to herself, with a charming personality and level of innocence that was awfully odd on someone like himself. He merely wanted to have fun, to love, to learn– Slowly, as Reze understood more and more about Denji, she fell in love with him. In how similar they both were, how he’d always try his best to make her happy, how stupid he could be at times– But, alas, she was still a weapon of the USSR. And so, she had to do as her job commanded, and try and take the boy’s heart for using it as a weapon like herself.

It is after a long fight, in a moment where she can see how he still cares about her, even giving her his own shirt– She presented him with an option. She so deeply wanted to go away, to be left alone by Public Safety and her own countrymen, that she proposed to Denji the idea of just escaping. Leaving and never returning, something she thought he would love! Because they were so alike–

But he couldn’t. Even if he loved her so much, even if Reze meant so much for him, he couldn’t leave Public Safety like that. Not only would they find and kill him, no, he probably never thought about that too much… He couldn’t leave his family behind. He was just discovering what Aki and Power meant to him, how comforting it was to have them and a nice house to live in, and he was still in love with Makima. Even if it hurted, he couldn’t leave with Reze.

Even so, he still tried amending that. He tried to get her to meet him at their usual place, to have a normal date and maybe sort things out with Public Safety, but alas, she never showed up. And I believe this is something really important to understand about Denji’s POV; 

From his perspective, Reze never came back. For all he knew, she wasn’t truly in love with him, and didn’t care to show up for their date. Denji didn’t know what really caused her to stand him up that day, and the next time he saw her– It was as a mere puppet of the Control Devil, trying to kill him. I may have the facts wrong, and I kinda hope I do because this is so fucking sad srsly I hate fujimoto– But Denji never learnt the truth. He never learnt that Reze too didn’t go to school, that she loved him, or that Makima was the real reason why she wasn’t there when she had to.

Here, Denji learns more about himself. He learns what true love is, even if at the time he hadn’t realized it yet; it is with Reze that he understands what the companionship he yearned for so long really was. Not a warped, controlling maternal love that was never reciprocated, but an actual, teenage romance of two people that are so differently similar. And it is with Reze that, for the first time, Denji has his heart broken. Maybe he turns away from it quickly, goes back to just trying to impress Makima, but that is still something that stays in a teenager’s mind, no matter how hard one tries to suppress it.

The thought of what could’ve been, of what would’ve happened if. It’s something that would nag at anyone’s head, and I imagine that it probably still hangs around Denji’s, taking into account that in Chapter 120 Nayuta mentions how “every woman he meets tries to kill him”, I do believe that may imply that he’s told her about much of his past, including Reze. Again, maybe a little too headcanon-y, but that would mean she still holds a place in his mind, which is not really far-fetched or anything, so–

Anyways! We’re coming to a close. I would love to talk about Kishibe, and do love his weird father/uncle-like relationship with Denji, but I don’t believe it holds anything too important aside from having teached a lot about Devil Hunting to Denji. I’d love to talk about it more deeply once he comes back in Part 2 and more stuff happens though! He’s easily in my top 5 CSM characters lmao

Anyways. Here comes the big one.

Makima.

Makima is to Denji many things.

His first love, his greatest opponent, a mother, the person that gave him a purpose and then shred it into pieces.

In a way, they’re similar. They both were confused, lost children once, that needed help and care from others. It took Denji long before he got it, but he did; and that saved him. Makima, on the other hand, never truly had it. She grew up a weapon, someone who couldn’t understand companionship that wasn’t formed by control and manipulation, and so she seeked for someone of her caliber, someone at her own level. That someone was the Chainsaw Devil, the only one who posed a substantial threat to those like her, the Horsemen. 

She fantasized and dreamt of the Chainsaw Devil, as her equal, as the one who could give her her perfect world, or, if not, that would give her the most honorable of deaths.

But Makima never understood the Chainsaw Devil. How it never wanted to harm, to kill; it only ever wanted friends and affection, just like she did. Maybe she never realized, because she held it so highly, but the Chainsaw Devil was the most human of devils. 

But the one who understood the Chainsaw was Denji. He understood Pochita, and gave him a house, food, warmth, protection, and a friend. He gave him lots of hugs, and pats, and always shared with him, and always talked about the dreams that Pochita loved to hear about.

Makima couldn’t begin to understand that. She never once saw the Chainsaw Devil as Pochita, but as the Hero of Hell. She was jealous, jealous of a kid who was similar to her, but who could get that affection and connection with her idol, her equal. She couldn’t begin to understand the Chainsaw Devil as anything but almighty and powerful, as a beast of destruction, one that kills any that it finds on its path. 

Makima gave too much to Denji. She gave him a home, food, a family and friends… She gave him hope. She tried to take it away, but she couldn’t. His relationships with those around him were far too strong for them to be broken like that.

Denji, finally, killed Makima. But everything was still too hard for him, because after everything, he truly loved her. She used him, manipulated him; killed everyone important to him, even weaponized them. But she gave him everything he ever wanted, she gave him his first hug, his first bowl of udon…

Many people loved Makima mindlessly, because of her powers. Aki doesn’t remember *why* he even loved her, and the fiends only remember her “saving” them. The Hybrids too, were clearly mindless as she used them, the Katana Man, Reze and Quanxi all having many reasons to despise her to the core, but her control was just that powerful.

Maybe it influenced Denji to a point too, but something is clear. Denji truly loved Makima. He wasn’t controlled, at least for most of it, like the others. He had reasons to love her, many in fact. All of them may have been fabricated, acted, a lie– But they still were there, and he still remembers all of them. Denji was the only person to truly and wholeheartedly love Makima, but she never cared about that. She merely cared about Pochita, the Chainsaw Devil, who in return merely loved Denji.

Makima hasn’t left Denji’s mind yet, and she probably never will. Because he HAS to remember her, remember all that he went through, for the sake of the ones that died, and for Nayuta’s sake. To be sure she never ends up like that, to be sure she knows she’s loved.

Makima traumatized him like nothing else in his life. The Gun Fiend attack, the memory of his father’s death coming back, Power’s own death, Reze never showing up for their date, etc. All of it was her fault, and he may stop loving her some day, he may already have; but he will never stop remembering all of those moments. How sad, pitiful and broken he felt, how depressed he may have been, how guilty he still is. All of it is her fault.

Yeah. I’m a dramatic bitch.

Anyways, now I should talk more about Part 2’s characters and their relationships with Denji, but I believe that’s best to do some other day, when Part 2 ends or is reaching a conclusion.

I will say, though. Asa is a perfect fit for him, and I truly want to see them learn and grow together, because Denji really deserves *someone* that won’t die on dissapear on him now. Yoshida is a mystery, truly; and I cannot for the life of me decipher what the hell is going to happen with that asshole.

And his relationship with Nayuta is really cute and I love them, but I feel like the way he treats her is probably going to backfire eventually. Not a Makima 2, but something else; that they can solve at the end and so they won’t have to repeat the cycle of just killing the Control Devil and trying again on its next life.

anyways if you read through all of this 1. youre kinda cool 2. you may like to read some other stuff (?!) hit up my AO3 i have a lot of CSM fanfiction there https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddd11

[ma-lark-ey]

okay I learned from the first monster post so I’ma just throw one of these bad boys down real fast

Niall Lynch is giving Glenn Close of DnDads fame and that may be a fandom overlap only I have.

Gansey calling Blue Jane will never not be funny

My feeling with Richard Gansey III currently is the same thoughts I had reading They Both Die At The End. By that, I mean; “Yes, I have been told point blank this character is going to die. However, I’m chosing to pretend the author is lying.”

Blue kinda acearo coded.

Blue picking boys is so funny to me. She really said “Fuck Daddy’s Money. Give me that little weirdo in the Coke shirt.”

So if Noah’s put to rest. Is he just around cause he wants to be now? Like. Is he just vibing? Or is he connected to Gansey somehow?

I always forget effervescent is a real word.

oh i love a good murder threat.

“You’re dead you don’t weight anything!” Ronan :(( he’s still part of the group :((( he wants to street race too !!

“that’s not fun thats trouble” youre teenages boys. those are synonyms gansey.

WHAT is the Gray Man.

OH.

Operating theory: Niall Lynch left Ronan with some kind of trinket that is the Greywaren & Ronan knows it IS the Greywaren but not what it DOES which is why the dream shit confuses him. TRUST!

WHAT IS NIALLS WILL. WHAT.

maybe gansey’s awake… ronan the boy that you are

the way Stiefvater describes buildings is absolutely magnificent.

Ronan: oh no yeah Adam’s in my dreams sometiems & he makes fun of my ‘attempts to ocmmunicate.’ reader, dont analyse that too hard imm moving on now. CHAINSAW—

Ronan I would like to go back to Adam in your dreams kiddo whats that about.

oh is that box the greywaren. yeah there’s no way this is ending well.

The Jane thing feels transphobic but also trans as fuck at the same time. i cant explain it. Gansey the enigma you are.

“Raven boys must be prey to propoganda” Blue they’re rich kids ofc they are

Blue the woman that you are 💖💞

Every henrietta description gets more like my hometown and i’m thriving

“how proud he was of it, how wretched it was.” Adam you’re doing amazing

“Boyd” that’s Matt Boyd of aftg fame this name will never be said again but im speaking it into existence.

WIN FOR ADAM FINALLY

every time i think I’m prepared for Adam’s POV he leaves me on the floor strewn about like lego pieces.

Gansey looks dishevelled in public??? i didnt know he knew how to do that

Ronan using his asshole aura to do good things under the radar ily im so sorry i called you obnoxious.

GAMSEY WAS STUPID ABOUT ADAM??? they’re so Brocedes coded. No one who knows this book series is going to know what brocedes is. trust me on this.

accusing Gansey of dating glendower is the funniest thing Adam has ever done and will ever do. You’re so real Adam. Speak your truth.

THROWING NOAH OUT THE WINDOW IS THE FUNNIEST THING RONAN WILL EVER DO. DEFENSTRATE HIS ASS

Okay that’s the first ten chapters. I’ll be back when I’m at chapter 20

Lark Liveblogs Literature: The Raven Cycle II: The Dream Thieves

What’s the standings??

a) if there’s a singular fact about me, it’s that I am a Noah Czerny enjoyed above all else, and secondly I’m studying Adam Parrish like a bug.

b) Gansey has autism and not even the author herself will convince me otherwise.

c) Ronan Lynch was an obnoxious shit, but he’s slowly gaining brownie points by being less Seth Gordon and more Nico di Angelo about it.

d) Blue Sargent woman of all time. She can do no wrong ever & I’m like 90% sure Adam is secretly gay but like they’re cute.

I don’t know what Noah’s mom’s birthday schnapps have to do with his death, but it’s something. I feel it in my bones.

Ronan’s dream shenans are so goofy to me.

Also Ronan being our prologue POV in this book whereas we had zero ronan pov in book one implies we might get Noah pov and I’m sorry in advance for who I’ll be if I’m write.

I have no idea where this plot is going, which is unusual for me but we’re living with it. I think Glendower might appear this book but also I have a deep feeling he’s not going to show up until book four for reals.

that’s all folks! I’ll be back once i get through some chapters with thoughts.

OH ALSO THIS BOOK TITLE FUCKING EATS. MAGGIE STIEFVATER COOKED WITH THIS ONE Y’ALL.

[aaric-s-haven]

How Does it Feel Raja

Aka a Rocky x Male!OC nobody asked for but I wrote cuz I have this urge to write more kgf fanfiction as there is barely any

Set after kgf 1, canon after that takes all lil trip to idc where

“How does it feel Azaan?" Rocky asked in the mocking imitation of the question he had had to face every single time when the man in question would manage to get away from him. Currently he had him pinned beneath him in a way even the most slippery eel would have to admit defeat. 

Rocky had met Azaan a few months ago on one of his trips to Russia. He had been playing a bunch of his stupid bodyguards into a debt that even the next three of their generations would have been unable to repay. Of course the meat heads had decided that the best course of action was to eliminate the man. Which proved to be a mistake. Like an ant to sugar, Rocky had been attracted. They were meat heads but they were HIS meat heads. Vanaram would not even bear the thought of anything lesser than the bestest killers in the whole subcontinent serving as his protection. What he had found was the supposed best protectors hospitalized, taken out eight against one. The bill had already been paid by the one who landed them there. His team had managed to track the mystery fighter down and Rocky himself had flown in to confront him.

To everyone’s surprise and Vanaram’s offended dismay, he hadn’t gone there to get vengeance. See he had a simple rule, he needs to be on top. At all times. Top of the food chain with everything that is the best in the world, guns, jobs, men, women. Even his fling with Reena had happened because she was singularly the most arrogant and fiery rich brat in Bangalore. Rocky had tried preserving what he had felt for her, though getting together with her wasn’t his intention when he kidnapped her. That was a fear tactic for her father. And he had loved the layers of her that he had started seeing, the strength, the playfulness, the care and the anger. Unfortunately she was not used to his brutality. He had let her go after the threat of her father had been eliminated.

Now this man, this one man army that had managed to injure his men heavily enough yet hadn't killed a single one, he wanted this man. As his guard or commander or what he didn’t know. But he clearly was one of the best and so instead of putting a bullet in his head when they surrounded him, he offered him a seat. First thing he noticed about the other man was his eyes, they seemed a normal brown but kept shifting into darker shades that made him look as unhinged as Rocky in the depths of his bloodlust. He had a slighter and shorter frame, Rocky was built like a wall, Azaan was all lean muscles and grace. At a passing glance, he would be brushed off as a non threat. But quite obviously he was not a non threat. He was a good enough threat to fight Rocky himself to a standstill and show a finger at any and all ambition. He was an enigma and Raja Krishnappa Bairya was nothing if not a curious man who couldn’t keep his fingers to himself. And Azaan turned out to be the kind of motherfucker who got a kick out of nearly dying and out of dancing on the head of an angry animal.

Azaan smirked and moved his head up towards him instead of down, getting close enough that their breaths mingled. Rocky refused to move back. In his long twenty nine years of life, moving back was not an action he had been able to learn. So even though his breath had effectively started malfunctioning without his fucking permission, he stared right back into the asshole’s stupidly magnetic eyes, with a sinking feeling that he was whipped however hard he tried to fight it. And fight he did. Every single one ending with the damned question.

“How does it feel, Raja?”

How does it feel to not be able to win every fight, to not get everything you want… how does it feel to have everything so close to you yet not in your hands…

A positively disturbing smile crept up Azaan’s face before he closed the distance between them and awkwardly brought their lips together. Raja lost his grip on Azaan as well as reality as his brain struggled to process what was happening. In that second, the other man had not only freed his hands and gripped his locks to make it a proper kiss but also used his lack of concentration to roll them over. He had bit and coaxed his way into his mouth with him subconsciously responding right back. By the time his brain had stopped showing error, the little shit had moved off of him and had already started walking backwards towards the exit. Grinning down at him as he tried to collect enough words to form a sentence, he asked the question again, this time slightly different.

“How did that feel, Raja?”

[kkusuka]

So, I have an idea 👁👄👁. Who knows if it’ll be a good one, but I had a dream last night, WHERE I WAS BEING SHARED BY KAGS AND TSUKKI. Let me know if you like this idea <3 Love ur poly headcanons and I think that’s where this dream came from <3333

funny because i think about this all day every day

The Velvet Room <3

Tsukishima Kei x Reader x Kageyama Tobio 

Mafia AU

words: 2.1k 

Cw: choking, double Penn. In the same hole, it’s tsukishima so degradation

The Velvet Room Nightclub was a place to avoid.

In fact, you avoid even speaking about the place, as do many. Other than it being almost completely unaffordable to the general public, but just mentioning the Karasuno Yakuza was enough to scare the remaining brave souls from the doors.

You didn't really know what made them so bad, no one delves deep into the issues publicly, and apparently privately, of fear they will somehow overhear the contents of the conversation.

Your friends had already beaten into your head to stay away from the luxurious club. And there were enough bars and smaller clubs lining the city; so it wasn’t a problem to the general public.

So how did your friend and you get in the check-in line at the very club you’ve been told to avoid like a plague?

Kiyoko’s bachelorette party. That’s how you landed a stop in the most expensive place in the city. She was one of the people who always played devil’s advocate for the club. (you had your suspicions about the man she’s marrying too, not you get you wrong they are lovely people, just an enigma to the club.)

She was adamant about having her party there, saying she wanted to show you that it wasn't scary, you guys were just falling into the drama.

“You know, it does look really nice in here!” another friend whispered as you walked through the door; the hostess looked up at your group, seemingly recognizing Kiyoko at first glance, as she didn't say a word before leading you through red curtains, past the dance floor and what looked like the main bar, up the stairs to a long hallway.

Walking down the hallway you noticed the individual rooms lining the walls, no doors, the entries were of the same red cloth. You were led to the very end of the hall, pushing the red back, revealing a room with booths along the wall, circling a white table.

To the side of the room, a bar loaded with different bottles and lime slices. You had almost completely eased up on the reputation of the club, the white and LED lights lining the room sent you into a calm, relaxed view of the infamous building.

“Alright let's stop lollygagging! Let’s party!” with that you began to drink and within minutes food had arrived to your room. No worries, there was no poison in either the food or the drinks; so now you had nothing even remotely bad to say about this place, it was great!

Before you knew it, it was almost two in the morning and according to some of the girls who ventured to the outside, the club was packed. Being that you had been there since 8, it was needless to say you were growing tired; your social battery was nothing compared to some of your friends.

“C’mon, Y/n! Let’s go to the dance floor! This room is getting boring!” one of your friends was trying to pull you from where you had nestled into the booth.

“Fine, fine, calm down! I'm coming, I'm coming!” you relented, allowing her to drag you pat the curtains and onto the dance floor where music was blasting from every angle.

As you dance, your eyes move across the bodies on the floor to the people leaning on the walls lining the outskirts of the mass of people. As you drag across the couple clearly getting a bit too heavy in public your eyes meet a sharp cerulean blue.

Expecting him to turn away, you kept your eyes locked with his, disregarding the people surrounding you. Seeing that he wouldn't break our staring contest, your eyes travel from his eyes to his draped hair, down his neck, taking note of his dark three-piece suit hiding his body.

Through your examination you lost your footing, falling back crashing into a hard chest.

For the second time that night, your eyes met gold surrounded by black rims. You watched his lips curl into a scowl as he set you back onto your heels, clearly running his eyes along the curves of your body.

He returned his eyes back on your before flipping his lips into a condescending smirk, raising his chin as if he was leagues above you, “Not very balanced are we, short?”  he remarked, shoving his hands into his pant-pockets.

“I was going to say thank you, but you ruined my thanks by opening your mouth.” you retorted, making a move to turn back to where you hoped your friend was still dancing, though before you could, another body was beside you.

“Stop bothering them, Tsukishima.” a deep voice rumbled from next to you, looking at it was the man from across the room; his sharp eyes now cast onto the blond asshole, who was still smirking, bigger now that this other man had stepped in,  down at the both of you.

“Or what, King? Are you going to command me around like the commoner I am? Short and I were just talking, so you can butt out your highness.” Tsukishima sneered at, the king? that couldn’t be his name, and from the way he stiffened at the mention of this name, he didn't like it very much.

He was about to respond when two voices called from either side of your newly formed circle.

“Y/n!”

“Kageyama! Tsukishima!”

You knew it was Kiyoko who was calling you back towards the stairs, so you sneak a glance two where the men turned, seeing a smaller man, boy? with bright orange hair waving the two over. Hearing Kiyoko call you again, you tear your sight from the two walking away and make your way back to the room.

The events of that night still play in the back of your mind even a month later as you get ready for another pouting with Kiyoko and the hostess from that night, who’s named you learned to be Yachi, who had quickly became friends with you along with a few of your other friends.

“Won't it be awkward clubbing at the place you work?” you didn't want to force Yachi to go back, she seems to spend enough time there as it is. And if you got her to say no, you wouldn’t have to go either. It wasn't that you didn't want to have a good time, you did. It was that you didn't know if you could handle seeing Tsukishima and Kageyama again. Your body wanted it, it desperately wanted to see at least one of them again, but your mind was against the idea.

Yachi had told you about them, they were clearly part of the high rank of the Karasuno Yakuza. She explained how rude and all-around awful Tsukishima treated people, from remarks to just making fun of them. She told you about Kageyama’s bad attitude and how he was exiled from another Yakuza and was picked up for his skills.

You had to stop yourself from thinking about them for about a week before your memory began to torment you once more. You couldn’t lie; that was hot. Not that they were mafia goonies; but how confident they were walking around their club knowing what they could do at any time.

Now sitting at the main bar while Kiyoko and Yachi dance with each other on some far corner of the dance floor, you wish more people came. You vowed to stay away from the dance floor, in fear of deja vu taking its course and becoming reality.

To consumed in mixing your lime into your margarita, you ignore that body that slides into the stool next you yours.

“I was wondering when you would come back, Shortie, his Majesty interrupted us last time.”  warm breath hit the shell of your ear as a too-familiar snarky voice sounded from beside you. Tsukishima pulled back, resting his head on his palm, as the bartender shoots a whiskey in his direction.

“I have nothing to say to you.” you raise your chin, imitating how he had when you first met. From the corner of your eyes, you could see his amusement clear on his face. Trying to ignore him you make a move to leave your seat.

“None of that, I’m just trying to have a conversation!”

You continue your ignorance, scanning the crowd for your friends.

“I’ll buy you food?”

“Only until we finish the food, then you leave me alone.”

Seeming content with your answer, he takes you up the same stairs, to another room on the right of the corridor.

In your former opinion, Tsukishima was actually a very good conversationalist, you hadn’t even realized that the food had been done for an hour and you had gone through more than enough drinks.

“Hinata really jumped into a fruit cart? Like in the movies? How does that even happen?” you laugh, curling yourself against his side as he mocks his friends.

Noticing he wasn’t laughing anymore, you look back up towards his face. Realizing just how close he was to you, eyes fixated on your lips, yours the same before you realize what was happening.

“I’m sorry i-”

Before you could even finish your mumbling you were pulled back into him, lips pressing on yours. Keeping your lips connected he moved you onto his lap, your straddling his waist as his hands moved to rub along your thighs.

Pulling away to breathe, you start to unbutton his white shirt, he,  pushing the ends of your dress to rest on your hips, giving him a view of your red lace.

“Tsukishima what the hell-”

Kageyama’s familiar voice called from the entrance of the room, dying down when he registered what he was seeing. Frozen in place, he could see Tsukishima’s hand still making its way to the zipper of your dress. From the crook of your neck, he could see Tsukishima smirk sucking on the skin below your ear.

You tried to push Tsukishima off, not wanting to embarrass yourself further, but he held you in an iron grip acting as if nothing had happened.

“Are you just going to sit there and watch King? If so then you can just leave now.” He mocked, not straying from slipping your dress from your burning body. When you tried to respond, Tsukishima moved his finger to meet with your clothed bud.

Seeming to have made his decision, you feel Kageyama tilt your head to meet your lips. Wrapping his hands around your neck keeps you where he wanted.

“Wow you're more of a whore than I thought, totally ok with being shared by two guys, you’re fucking dripping!”

Tsukishima pulled your underwear to the side, shoving two fingers into your weeping hole, Kageyama moving his mouth to the column of your neck, opposite from where Tsukishima’s was just minutes ago.

“You’re going to take both of us, like a good cum-dump” Tsukishima sneered, pulling his cock out of it's refines, “c’mon tell me how much you love being our cum-dump.”

You couldn’t even mutter a word through Kageyama's fingers in your mouth. Before you could think, he was pushing you down onto his cock. You gave a choked moan as he lifted your hips then dropped them back onto his.

Your monetary focus on Tsukishima left you unaware of Kageyama’s escapades until you felt a hand on your back pressing you to the blond’s chest. You thought he was just going to press into your ass until you felt his tip at your already stuffed entrance.

“Wait, you can’t-”

“Shut up and take it, whore.”

Fitting them both was almost impossible, you felt more stretched than you ever had in your entire life. Tears were flowing down your cheeks, not that either of them seemed to care as they steadied in a pace, moving in sync with the other.

Eventually, you lost yourself on their cocks, you didn't know when but a hand attached itself to your clit. Your orgasm washed over you as your cum sprayed onto your thighs and Tsukishima’s pants.

Neither of them paid you any mind as they continued for another minute before stuffing you with cum.

“You might just have to be our permanent cum-dump, huh Shortie?”

“For once, I think I agree.”

[kyukicho]

"Mmm." Maybe, maybe not, she smiled back. Though it was interesting that he took something so simple personal like that. Like there was more to him than just incredible asshole generating enemies wherever he went. Not good, not bad, just something. And 'something' was interesting. Unique.

In a way she could understand though. Going by a false family name for most of her time in Brahman. Not wanting the personal information of them to get out. For her, it was to be an enigma, what was it for him? To be distant? Untouched?

When she looked back down through lidded gaze she caught the tail end of that predatory stare. Something in it sent a shiver, but not one that she hated. No, it was a thrill to be looked at like that by him. Weird. She was learning all sorts of things today.

Safety? Did she feel safe with Hanma? There were certainly people she felt less safe with. Ones that had less morals or reasonings. Hanma at least seemed to put reason behind his actions, even if that reason was entertainment. "I don't know if I would call it safe. You're a threat for sure. But you're not stupid like some threats are. You don't lash out mindlessly." Did that make her feel comfortable? Somewhat, yea...

"Oh, guess I'm not quite there." She chuckles. "So if I'm not, why would you call me that? Madness and liking you don't go hand in hand." She pondered his question, tapping a little of the ash from her cigarette. "I've got no reason to keep it secret but I'm not about to just run to the nearest person with all 'I had a nice chat with Hanma and he's fun!' You want to see their faces, you tell them then. It'd be so much more infuriating coming from you."

    “  Liar.  “  He flashes his fangs in a grin, appearing unbothered despite the reaction it hard garnered. He knows when someone is fishing for information, details like that get tucked away until you can jam it into their spine and make them really scream. Or at least that was how Hanma chose to use details like that.  “  It just sounds weirdly personal. No stealing the few idiots that do try to fight me. Not that most of them are any good.  “  He frowns, displeased at the thought. Five, ten, twenty little shits trying to fight wasn’t even worth a fraction of his energy. Ugh. That reminded him how boring things were.

   It’s stupid to take your eyes of Hanma. Her eyes close but his flick from their absent spot to focus on her. He could do a lot in a second if he wanted to. A punch would send her sputtering on the smoke. He doesn’t intended to. He just could. Instead, he draws in another large breath, holding it before easing the smoke out. Well. Tonight wasn’t how he was expecting this to go, from feisty to……whatever this shit was. Made a point though, he could hold a conversation. And he didn’t mind it. The opposite really. It’d felt like ages since he’d actually talked.

    Was it?  “  Nah. Just coincidence  ~  “  Was he lying or telling the truth?  “  I just am who I am. If I piss people off, sounds like a them problem. Most people do try to get cozy where they’re not safe you know. “  His head lifts to level her with a stare.  “ Not mean enough for you? You into that?  “  He cocks an eyebrow before continuing on.

   “  I don’t mean crazy like that. I mean absolutely batshit-insane, so fucked up nothing’s going to set them right crazy.  “  He grins to himself, like there’s a hilarious joke that only he knows.  “  But they’re so much fun even when they lash out.  “  It was part of the thrill, testing their limits or witnessing from the sidelines.  He’d always been there. Mobius, Valhalla, Tenjiku, watching the plunges to madness. Kanto too. “  So. You planning to keep this little chit-chat of ours to yourself, or start tattling to others? Cause I would love to see their faces. “  Not a single one of them would believe her either. 

[emerald-chaos]

Already Gone

**gif not mine, credit to the owner below!!**

Oh hohohohoho besties. You are in for it on this one. The other night I had an idea that popped into my head and to say I got carried away with it would be a gross understatement. This is the first time I've written smut in forever so bear with me as I get back in to it. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, please feel free to send feedback!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k (oops)

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), language, ANGST (holy shit is there angst), fingering, unprotected sex (please be smarter than these two), infidelity, and I think that's about it? Please let me know if I left something off.

A/N: Thanks to my sweet, sweet friend who read through this for me and helped me fix a few things. Also I take the, MINORS DNI, warning very seriously, so please only interact if you are of age. Please have your age in your bio so I can confirm. By clicking "read more" you agree to this. I really don't want to have to block people.

The cacophonous trill of shattering glass erupted through the space. Raised voices, thick with rage, echoed off the walls. It was difficult to tell which words were coming from which mouth, the both of you overlapping as you spewed out hatred toward one another.

“What in God’s name is going on here?!” Steve shouted as he entered the room, coming back from a late night run at the most inopportune time.

“Stay the fuck out of it!” Your two voices shrilled together as you both pointed toward Steve.

You could feel your chest heaving and it almost felt as though you were foaming at the mouth. Rage was completely consuming every crevice of your body and spilling out into your actions and your words. You turned back to the object of your aggression and watched as he ran a hand through his hair and turned to walk away from you.

“You’re nothing but a coward, James Barnes. A goddamn selfish, son-of-a-bitch, coward!” You screamed with every ounce of energy you had left in your body.

The two of you had some knock-down drag-outs in your past, but it was nothing compared to this. Months of pent up feelings, insecurities, jealousies, and secrets were all coming to a head at this very moment. The last few months the two of you had been incredibly short with one another - a stark contrast from your usual loving tone. Passionate kisses became brief pecks to the cheek, midnight roaming hands became backs set to one another, and ‘i love you’s’ felt more like a habit than a genuine feeling. In your heart you feared it would come to this one day. No matter how hard you tried, how much you wanted to, you were never going to be able to fix what had been done to the man you loved. There was no amount of love in the world that could reverse the tragedy of the Winter Soldier - at least that’s what you were convinced of now.

The man in front of you turned and strode across the room, minimizing the space between the two of you. His metal hand in a fist as he brought it up to jab a finger into the middle of your chest. Pupils were blown wide, what was once a lustful look was now filled with only pure anger. As he opened his mouth to speak, spit flew into your face.

“And you are a self-righteous, ignorant, self-important bitch!”

As your eyes raked over the contorted facial features of the man standing in front of you, you realized you couldn’t recognize them. The man standing in front of you was not Bucky. It was not the man who twirled a strand of your hair when he sat with his arm behind your chair, not the man who pulled over the car to help a turtle cross the road, and definitely not the man who held you in his arms as he cried after a nightmare. The man standing in front of you was a frightening enigma of hatred and rage. This was not your Bucky. In fact, you were almost certain you lost your Bucky months ago.

* * *

You hadn’t noticed the bouncing of your knee until the man who sat beside you gently cupped it with his hand, stilling your nervous movements. It was enough to break you from your thoughts as you turned your head to meet his kind eyes.

“We don’t have to do this, you know. I’ll have them turn the car around and we’ll go back to the airport. We catch the next flight back home.” He whispered in reassurance. Even though your mind was anxiously racing, you couldn’t help but smile at the compassionate gesture.

“Of course we do,” you started, cupping his cheek with your hand as the sunlight glinted off your pristine wedding ring, “Tony was one of the most important people in my life. Plus, I’m pretty sure he would haunt me if I didn’t go to his funeral.”

8 years ago you promised yourself in the taxi ride to the airport that you would never step foot in this place again. That all changed when you got the news of Tony’s death. Your time working with the Avengers was a life-changing experience and it was all thanks to Tony. The memory of him seeking you out to work alongside Dr. Banner in the research lab was one that you could never forget. Tony was an arrogant, pompous asshole but he was undeniably a good man. You would curse yourself for the rest of your days if you let your own baggage get in the way of that.

“Alright,” your husband responded with a sigh as he squeezed your knee, “But please, promise you’ll tell me if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“Promise.” An agreement that you sealed with a kiss.

Mike was a good man, he was someone who cared for you deeply and who made you feel safe. After your transfer to the DC Shield Office, you had sworn off any more office romances. Those never ended well. That was until your path crossed with Mike. From the beginning of the relationship, you were upfront about your past issues with relationships and how you weren’t ready to dive into anything and he simply stated that he was okay with that, that he would wait.

The marriage was a happy one, Mike always playing the role of doting, caring husband. No matter how much you pushed back against him, he was always willing to give you space and to let you feel what you were experiencing. Mike was a good man. But he wasn’t him.

Your gaze left his as your eyes returned to the skyline, the familiar pressure clawing its way back to your chest. It’d been 8 years since you saw him. 8 years since you packed your bags and left the only home you’d ever truly known. Sure, you had this new life - a new husband, new friends, new job with similar duties, but there was still a piece of you that was missing. A piece you knew could never possibly be filled again. You had come to terms with that, slowly, but it had happened eventually. Now that you were back, you knew you were going to have to see him again - see all of them again. While a lot of good memories resided within this area, there was a hell of a lot of pain that went along with it. All you could do in that moment was remind yourself that you were here for Tony - to honor his memory and pay your respects. You didn’t owe anything else to anyone else. Something in your chest, however, told you that wouldn’t be the way things played out.

* * *

The service was beautifully executed. It was obvious that Pepper had poured her heart and soul into ensuring that Tony Stark was remembered as he should have been. The walls of your heart tightened as you saw Pepper clutching their young daughter to her side. Although Tony had made a lot of mistakes in his life, he spent his last years making sure to do good and to make things right. While it felt like a hot knife had been stabbed into your chest as you said goodbye to a once dear friend, you took solace in knowing that Tony was so loved by so many. That his legacy would live on in so many different ways. And that Pepper was there to say goodbye.

It had been your plan to attend the service and then leave immediately after it had ended. Of course, life has a funny way of never doing quite what we want it to.

It was Sam who stopped you first, pulling you into a tight hug against his form as your fingers gripped his jacket. Sam, being the angel he was, never once mentioned anything from the past and instead expressed his happiness with seeing you again and learning that you were doing well. The one thing Sam was not good at however, was keeping his mouth shut. Word quickly traveled through the crowd of your attendance and one by one old friends began to find you. Wanda didn’t have much to say but kept you in a grateful embrace while you expressed your condolences for Vision. In a shocking turn of events, It was actually Peter who was the most difficult to see. The once bright, happy-go-lucky, smiling boy was visibly devastated - heavy dark bags lingered under his eyes and his glow had been severely dimmed by the loss of his mentor. You couldn’t help but cry as you held him in your arms, expressing to him how proud of him Tony was and how he’d told you just that on several occasions.

After the hellos, the hugs, and the reminiscing you had told yourself that was it, that you were going to leave. It was then that Pepper stopped you with a soft hand on your shoulder, a kind smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and a warm embrace. After a pause of silence, she pulled away and invited you and Mike to stay for the gathering that had been planned following the service. Your mind screamed at you, begging you to politely decline - tell her you had to get back to DC, that you had a flight already booked that you couldn’t miss, that you had important business to get back to.

“Of course, Pepper. We’d love to.”

* * *

The gathering was exactly what Tony would have wanted. It was family and friends gathered around eating and drinking, but most of all - it was a bunch of people talking about Tony Stark.

You told Mike before the two of you arrived that you would stay for 20 minutes tops. That it simply would be out of respect for Pepper and once you felt your presence had been noted that the two of you would slip out unnoticed in the sea of people.

That was 2 hours ago.

Laughs came easy, tears flowed frequently, and stories were shared amongst friends. Surprising to you, it felt good to be around these people again. A familiar pang of home would hit you every now and again as you reconnected with those who you hadn’t seen in years. You introduced Mike to your old friends, who welcomed him warmly and with open arms. What you had thought would be a stressful, gut-wrenching day had actually turned out to be a joyful celebration of life. The day had been progressing smoothly and you wanted to chastise yourself for being so pessimistic.

That was, until you saw him.

Hands stuffed into the pockets of a black bomber jacket, long chestnut hair falling onto his shoulders, and a familiar collection of facial hair decorating the lower half of his face. He looked as terrible as you felt at the beginning of the day. Dark circles had only grown more prominent beneath his beautiful blue eyes and the corners of his lips were drawn down in a permanent frown. You couldn’t help but notice that he’d lost a considerable amount of weight. The once broad, thick man was now far more lean and toned than you ever remember him being.

A breath caught in your throat as the cerulean eyes met yours. Unable to stop yourself, you shoved your drink into Mike’s chest and hurried off to the nearest bathroom. Barely making it in time, you emptied your day’s stomach contents into the toilet. Breathing heavily, you fought back sobs as they threatened to leave your throat. To anyone else, it may seem you were simply grieving the loss of your friend, perhaps taking it harder than most. Oh how you wish that were the case.

You knew it would be difficult to see him again, but you didn’t expect it to feel as though someone had set your entire body ablaze. The heavy feeling of grief, anxiety, and stress from the beginning of the day was crushing your lungs, your stomach still trying to lurch although it had nothing left to give up, and tears burned the rims of your eyes. As you cleaned yourself up and flushed the toilet, you exited the stall to wash your hands and rinse your mouth. You tried to convince yourself it was the entire day's worth of emotions that had led you to this moment. That man no longer had this kind of hold on you - you had moved on. Or, so you thought.

Slowly, your gaze met your reflection in the mirror. The woman there looked worn and tired, like she had been fighting a raging war that she had been losing miserably. Mascara had begun to run down the apples of her cheeks and lipstick was smeared across her mouth. A heavy sigh left your lips as you did your best to make yourself more presentable. A shaky hand entered your clutch as you retrieved your lipstick and applied another layer. You gave yourself a final once-over and decided that your current appearance was as good as it was going to get. Just as you were going to turn around and return to the party there was movement in the mirror that caught your eye. The door was being pushed open from the outside. You turned to protest, to let the intruder know that the bathroom was occupied.

“Excuse me, sorry, there’s someone--”

It felt as though all the air had been taken from your lungs and your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as you came face to face with the man you had tried so hard, for so long, to forget. It was as though you were frozen in time, as if he were Medusa - turning you instantly to stone. Logically, the thing to do would be to tell him to get out or for you to leave the bathroom so that he could occupy the space alone. However, all you could do was stand and watch as he closed the bathroom door behind him, as his fingers closed around the lock and clicked it into place.

Then it was just the two of you. Bodies unmoving, aside from the rapid rise and fall of your chests in tandem. The air felt 100 degrees warmer than it had when you were alone. The silence, paired with the thump of your heartbeat, was deafening to your ears. You were hyper-aware of his gaze as he studied you the way you had him not minutes before. His eyes finally met yours once more and there was a poignant silence before he finally spoke.

“Can’t believe you still have that dress.”

Your eyes blinked a few times, brain trying to process his words and the situation you had currently found yourself to be in. You looked down to the front of your dress and smoothed your hands down it. How could you have gone the whole day without realizing that the dress you were wearing had been a gift from Bucky on your first anniversary? You were positive you had rid yourself of anything even remotely related to him. In fact, you distinctly recall dumping a box of momentos into a barrel and tossing a lit match inside. You don’t remember making the conscious decision to keep the dress, or why you would have made the decision. Now here you were - mere feet away from the man who had put it on and so delicately took it off of you many times.

“S’perfectly good dress. Shouldn’t go to waste.” Was all you could muster as a response in that moment.

The man before you took a step forward and you took a step back, hips coming into contact with the cold marble counter of the sink.

“Thought I’d never see you again. Y’look...different.” His gaze roaming its way down your body once more.

As his eyes landed on the diamond ring nestled onto the 4th finger of your left hand, you felt a lump begin to form in your throat.

“Congratulations.” His words were cold. Inauthentic. “He’s a lucky guy.”

“What the fuck are you doing in here, James?” The words were supposed to be sharp, but instead came out shaky and insecure.

“Saw you out there, starin’ at me. Guess I just wanted a closer look at you.”

By the end of the sentence he had closed the gap between the two of you even more, chests threatening to bump one another. His metal hand slowly reached forward and brushed a piece of hair off your shoulder. The cool appendage felt like fire against your skin and you know he heard the way you sharply inhaled, but you just couldn’t help it. You swallowed hard, head reeling and knees trying to buckle beneath you when you felt his cool palm cup your fiery cheek. It took everything in your body to avert your eyes from him, especially when you felt him even closer than before - warm breath fanning the expanse of your face. Why was he doing this? What was he going to accomplish? The fight or flight response in your body was screaming at you to push him away and run, but you didn’t.

“I’ve thought about you every day since you left, sweets. There’s not a moment that passes by where you’re not on my mind.”

Your eyes closed tightly, tears now welling up and spilling over.

“Everything you said about me that night was true. I am a coward. A coward who lost the best fuckin’ thing that ever happened to his sorry, broken ass.”

A small sob escaped your chest as your hand flew to your mouth, failing to keep it from tumbling out. Bucky found a loose thread and was slowly unraveling everything you’d worked toward in the last 8 years, every step toward progress and peace that you had worked so hard to find.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, doll” Bucky was now fully cupping your face with his large, calloused hands, “I’m so sorry that you fell in love with someone like me - a broken son of a bitch who never got put back together. I’m sorry that I hurt you so badly. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you the way I promised I would. I’m sorry that -”

In a moment of weakness, before he could finish his sentence, you were crashing your lips to his. There was nothing else that existed in your world - there was only you and there was only Bucky. Seemingly moving on their own accord, your hands found their way into his hair, grasping wildly for something to hold on to. As your fingers tugged on his roots, Bucky let out a deep moan into the kiss, sending a shiver down your spine.

The kiss was sloppy and desperate, all tongue and teeth. It was a balance of dominance between the two of you - although you were the one who initiated the kiss, Bucky was the first one to gain access to the inside of your mouth, and you were the first to tug his lower lip between your teeth. A pathetic mewl left your lips as Bucky’s mouth began trailing wet kisses across your jaw and down the column of your throat. The heartbeat in your ears from earlier was much worse now, making your head throb in pain. Every nerve ending in your body felt as though it was on fire and a small voice in the back of your head kept pleading with you to stop. For a moment you entertained the idea of shoving him off and telling him to fuck off, but that was before he started sucking that spot on your neck that he knew drove you mad. It was your turn to moan this time as you involuntarily arched your back, pressing yourself up against his firm torso.

You knew the way that you were tugging on the strands of his hair had to be incredibly painful but it only seemed to urge Bucky to continue. A soft gasp tumbled past your lips as you felt Bucky’s thigh push against your aching core. The sensation had you digging your fingernails into the back of his jacket as you finally released your grip on his hair. Before you could stop yourself, you could feel your hips grinding yourself down against his clothed thigh. Your dress had been pushed up around your waist, now only a small piece of cloth covering you as you desperately chased a high.

“I shoulda never let you go. Shoulda been at the airport to stop you before you got on that plane.”

His teeth sunk into your pulse point once more, earning himself another moan from your lips. The sting was soon replaced with the cool sensation of his tongue tracing the marks he had left.

“I love you, doll. I haven’t ever stopped lovin’ you.”

“Show me,” you whimpered pathetically against his shoulder, “show me you love me, Bucky. Please.”

An audible breath caught in his throat as he pulled himself back to look at you. Your chest was heaving, make-up smeared once more, and your pupils were blown wide with lust. You obviously weren’t able to see the look you gave him, but judging by the way he looked back at you it was fair to say you looked broken, pathetic, and desperate for him. The eyes looking back at you had the softness to them that you remember, the strokes of his hands against your body contained the passion that you’d so been longing for, and the tone in his voice told you that he was desperate for you too.

Within seconds your feet were lifted from the ground and your ass made contact with the cold, wet countertop. There wasn’t a lot of room, objects were scattered onto the floor and others were left to push into your hips with aggressive force, but you just didn’t care. It was impossible to care when Bucky moved your knees apart and dragged a finger along your clothed pussy. The sensation made your head fall back against the mirror with a hard thud but you couldn’t feel any of the pain from it at all. The only thing you felt was the way electricity rippled through your body when he used his thumb to apply pressure to your aching clit. Bucky groaned and rested his forehead against yours, lips slightly parted as he felt your need for him growing.

“So wet for me, just like I remember. Lemme make you feel good, sweets, hmm?” He had leaned forward to whisper softly in your ear as his teeth grazed your lobe.

It was you who reached down and shoved your panties down your thighs, meeting a surprised look from Bucky as he helped you drag them down to hang around your ankle. Bucky’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he hooked his hands underneath your knees to spread your legs open for him. Another groan came from him, this time more guttural than the last. You felt small underneath his gaze and the cool air in the bathroom brushing across your soaking core made you shiver.

Your hand flew to your mouth to suppress the noises you made as his finger slipped through your folds, running up and down to collect your wetness.

“More. God. Please, Buck. Need more.” You whined, attempting to roll your hips against his hand to find any form of friction that you could.

“Anything for you, baby.” He whispered as he gently inserted a finger inside of you. The two of you moaned in tandem.

There was a brief moment of embarrassment with the way your walls immediately clenched around his finger and the way his finger immediately found that soft spot. It was shortly replaced with a feeling of ecstasy. Bucky captured your lips with his to swallow your moans as he added another finger. The way his fingers were curling and pumping inside of you already had you close to the edge. Bucky pulled back and held your gaze as he added pressure to your clit with his thumb, circling the area as his fingers continued to repeatedly hit that spot inside of you.

“Please, please don’t stop.” You begged as you felt the pressure building within the lower part of your body.

“S’okay. I’m right here.” Bucky’s other hand was cradling the back of your head as he whispered to you. “I know you’re close. Can feel you squeezin’ me. You can let go for me, I got you.”

As your eyes met his, foreheads pressed together, you finally came apart. The white hot sensation tears through you as your legs quake. You squeeze your eyes shut and allow Bucky to help you ride through your orgasm as he peppers light kisses along your neck.

“I almost forgot how pretty you look when you cum.”

You whine at the emptiness and loss of contact when Bucky removes his fingers from your center. As your eyes flutter open you see him push the fingers into his mouth and suck them clean. The look on his face was euphoric.

“God. Almost forgot how fuckin’ sweet you taste too.”

Mustering up all the strength you had, you sat up and pulled him closer by his belt. The two of you worked together to rid him of his pants and boxers. Your hand wrapped around him, thumb swiping the red tip and using the pre-cum to help lubricate as you pumped your hand down his length. Bucky’s jaw clenched as he moaned at the sensation. Just as you were going to leave the counter, you felt his hands grabbing your shoulders and halting your movements.

“Maybe a different time, sweets. But right now I gotta be inside you.”

You caught your bottom lip as you nodded and released your hold on him. Bucky’s hands wrapped around your thighs as he pulled your hips to the edge of the sink. The metal hand left your thigh as he grabbed himself at the base and pushed his length through your folds. The two of you once more shared a moan at the sensation. As he lined himself up with your entrance, your hands wrapped around his neck to pull him in for another kiss. The next thing you felt was the familiar sting of his cock stretching your walls as he slid into you. Your lips left his and your forehead found itself pressed against his once more. Both of you panting heavily as neither of you dared to speak a word.

Following a moment of silence, allowing your body time to stretch to accommodate him, you nodded slowly as to signal to him that it would be okay for him to move. His thrusts were slow and calculated at first, as if he was attempting to regain his memory of your body - one that he once knew so well. You couldn’t help but dig your fingernails into his shoulder as you held on to him for dear life, subconsciously afraid that if you were to let go of him he’d be gone again forever.

“Faster, Bucky. Please.” You whimpered into his ear as you took his earlobe between your teeth and nibbled softly.

A low growl left his chest as he grabbed your hips and lifted you off the counter, moving slightly so that he could cage your body against the wall. You wrapped your legs firmly around his waist, locking them at the ankle. His thrusts became faster, deeper, and it was apparent he had gained his confidence back.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. Just the way I remember.” He grunted as he dug his fingers harder into your hips.

His lips were on yours again, this time tears were starting to decorate the corners of your eyes. The pleasure, the regret, the passion, the guilt - every feeling was building up along with your orgasm. Bucky pulled away from the kiss to tap on your bottom lip with two of his fingers, which you greedily accepted into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his digits until he pulled them out and used them to circle your clit. The added pleasure was almost too much to handle.

“C’mon, baby. Wanna cum with you. Can you do that for me, huh?” Bucky whimpered, his thrusts beginning to falter from the calculated snaps he was giving you before.

All you could do was nod your head quickly as the pressure steadily increased, bringing you to the brink of your second orgasm.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much, oh my god.” Bucky grunted as the two of you reached your peak together.

You leaned forward to bite down on his shoulder and suppress the scream that left your mouth as pleasure erupted through your body. The two of you assisted each other through the high of your release and you felt your ass make contact with the cool countertop once more.

The only noise present in the space was your heavy breathing and a small dripping noise that came from the sink. Bucky’s final words before he came replayed in your head over and over again as you attempted to slow your breathing and bring yourself back down to earth. Your body shuttered slightly as Bucky slipped himself out of you. As you sat up, you noticed he was looking around the bathroom.

“Shit, sweets. I don’t think there’s anything I can use to help clean you up.” He sighed and turned to meet your gaze that was locked upon him.

“It’s fine, Buck. Not a big deal.”

Bucky bent over and helped you pull your panties back on before he redressed himself. Neither of you spoke for what felt like eternity.

“I-...” You muttered finally, “I love you too, Buck. I thought I was over you, I thought I moved on but...I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you no matter how hard I try.”

Bucky reached out to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand as he listened to you lament to him. His eyes were soft and caring and you could almost swear he was looking into the depths of your soul.

“I think —“

Your conversation was cut short by the sound of knocking at the bathroom door.

“Hey, are you okay in there? Do you need anything?” Mike’s voice had your entire body flooded with the shame of your infidelity. In one swift movement, you were on the floor and turning the sink on to make it appear you were just washing your hands.

“Y-yeah I’m fine! Just finishing up! I’ll find you out there in a minute!” You squeaked.

Mike seemed to pause for a moment before you heard his footsteps retreat from the bathroom door. A wave of relief washed over you, but it was only temporary. As soon as you were relaxed the gravity of the situation you were in was clouding you once more.

“I have to go. I can’t give him any reason to think he needs to come in here.” Bucky nodded, eyes not leaving yours as you spoke while collecting yourself, “but we need to..we should..we have to address this. Later.”

“I agree.”

“Our flight leaves tomorrow night. I’ll...see what I can come up with as far as an excuse. Then we can put this to bed for good.”

“Absolutely, sweets.”

The nickname made your knees buckle once more as you sighed.

“Goodbye, James.”

You finally tore your eyes from his as you unlocked the door and slipped out of the bathroom. In reality, however, you knew this really wasn’t goodbye. Not even close.

[schnedoop]

Servitude (Kaeya x Reader)

SUMMARY: You were just so sweet, so diligent, so noble. Too noble, if Kaeya’s honest. He’s glad that he was the first one to take advantage of it.

WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon

TAGS: cockwarming, PIV penetration, manipulation, abuse of power, asshole Kaeya

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

Kaeya can’t help but think that you would have made an amazing knight.

You were born with all the qualities needed for the job: a quick wit, a reassuring demeanor, a natural respect for the Anemo Archon, and a blinding devotion to serving the people of Mondstadt to top it all off. Inside you seemed to be a fierce combination of Diluc, Jean, Varka—and Kaeya can’t deny that, in your early training days, he sometimes saw himself in your unfailing persistence—and you seemed to carry everyone's best traits only, all weaknesses of character cast to the side.

Yes, the man muses, continuing to write his report. An amazing knight indeed. 

He still remembers how popular you were during your training years. Captains and soldiers alike stepped away from their taverns to spend their free time watching you, someone they all imagined to be the future of the Ordo, the next grandmaster, someone even Jean couldn’t hide her favoritism for.

Kaeya can’t say he blames any of them. He was always among the spectators, of course, watching you train, eavesdropping on your conversations in the mess hall, taking stalker-like measures to decode the enigma that was you.

In the beginning, it was out of wariness.

Kaeya was disinclined to believe that anyone could be so perfect, so pure. He assumed that you were putting up a facade, that the way you always took the long way home to help any citizens who crossed your path was nothing but a vicious scheme to gain Mondstadt’s trust so you could betray it—but soon, he learned that it wasn’t a lie. That you truly were this good a person. That your blinding naivety was natural, and not even a little feigned.

That was around when Kaeya began to watch over you, not as a potential threat, but as a subject of interest.

He found that everything about you was sincere. That you were one of the only knights who wouldn’t lie about their numbers for the bi-annual physical evaluations, who would spend their free time scouting out hillichurl camps and anonymously reporting them, who would wake up early to get extra training in, who would do anything and everything you could think of to better equip you to serve Mondstadt.

Kaeya found it endearing. You were so sweet, so diligent, so noble.

Too noble, if Kaeya’s honest. 

He’s glad that he was the first one to take advantage of it.

It started off with a casual comment during training. Your instructor was on bedrest after getting ambushed by some Electro slimes while swimming in a lake, so Kaeya had been asked to fill in. He paced down the line of your fellow soldiers-in-training slowly, offering loud compliments and gentle corrections to everyone he walked past, only for him to come to a halt at you.

“Come on, I’m sure you can do better than that. Training is no joke, cadet. Please take this seriously.”

You practically froze when he said that to you. 

His words were whispered, hushed low into your ear as if Kaeya didn’t want to embarrass you by chastizing you publicly, as if Kaeya was still the amicable Cavalry Captain everyone knew him to be, as if his criticism of you was genuine and wasn’t a stupid lie to make you question yourself.

It took all of Kaeya’s self-restraint to keep his expression neutral as he moved on. No doubt, it was the first time anyone had ever spoken to you as if you were failing to meet expectations instead of surpassing them—and Kaeya half-expected you to protest, to argue that you were doing a better job than everyone else in the room. 

He was pleasantly surprised when you mumbled an even more determined “Yes sir,” before continuing. 

A perfect soldier indeed. 

After that, you seemed determined to impress Kaeya. He could see the hierarchy in your mind: the fact that, although Jean was higher in authority, her praise meant less to you than Kaeya’s because he was the only one to not be impressed.

After you set your sights on impressing him, it was all over for you.

Crushing your spirit was an easy feat for Kaeya. You were a brilliant soldier, probably the strongest recruit the Ordo has had since Diluc, but you were nothing exceptional when it came to mind games. The occasional “do you need a break, cadet?” and the more often “there’s no shame in admitting weakness, solder” began to wear into you. Whereas before you responded to his every criticism with a fierce determination to do better, Kaeya could sense the change when you began to think your efforts futile, when you began to feel like the Cavalry Captain you so wanted to impress would, seemingly, never find you as exceptional as everyone else did. 

Kaeya still remembers the devastated look on your face when you barged into his office at midnight on the eve of your official recruitment into the Ordo.

“What do I have to do?!” you blurted, hands balled in fists. “What do I have to do to make you think I deserve to be a knight?!”

Kaeya recalls how surprised he’d been at that. He stared at you, that night, with genuine shock at your outburst. 

Before, he assumed that your attempts to impress him had merely been out of a selfish desire to earn the praise of everyone around you. Yet, there you stood, cute little tears building in your eyes as you revealed that the true reason was that you felt bad joining the knights without his approval, as if Kaeya was some benchmark that you needed to pass.

Very well, the knight remembers thinking. With your official graduation from soldier-in-training to soldier, Kaeya had been prepared to release the possessive grip he had around you...but when you presented him with such an obvious opportunity to take what he wanted, who was he to resist?

“It’s not anything you can change, cadet. Some people are meant to be soldiers. Some people aren’t. I already know which kind you are, but it doesn’t matter.” 

Every word Kaeya said had been carefully placed. He phrased his response in a perfect way, all to prompt the inevitable question from your soft, sweet lips:

“A-and which kind am I?”

“Which kind of what?” Kaeya asked, pretending as if he was barely giving this conversation any thought. He brought his eyes down to the map that he was detailing, pretending to continue working on it. 

“Wh-which kind of knight do you think I am?”

Kaeya remembers how hard it had been to stop a vicious smile from spreading across his face.

“You don’t want to know, cadet.”

“I do, Captain! I really do! Y-your opinion matters to me!”

“Oh?” That had been the first time Kaeya placed his quill down. “So if I tell you that I don’t think you’re ready to be a knight, you’ll heed my advice?”

“Well…” 

Your sheepish expression had been almost too much to bear. 

“If you came here to ask for my opinion just to ignore it, I’d advise going elsewhere. Please don't waste my time. The Ordo will spend enough resources trying to turn you into a half-decent knight, so don’t disregard all of that by—”

“Why?” you practically sobbed. You’d come forward and placed your palms flat against the surface of Kaeya’s desk, a pose that would have been wholly intimidating if not for the tears building in your eyes. “Why don’t you think I’ll make a good knight? Why won’t I—” you’d broken off to wipe away the tears that had begun to spill. “Why won’t I be able to help the Knights of Favonius?”

Instantly, Kaeya had risen and walked over you to wrap you in his arms. 

You were confused, no doubt, because the captain had been anything but kind to you in your previous interactions, but you openly sobbed into Kaeya’s chest, gripping the fabric of his jacket weakly. 

“I j-just want to help—I just want to m-m-make Mondstadt safer—I j-just—just want—”

“Of course you can help,” Kaeya whispered gently into your ear, wiping your tears away. “You’d be an invaluable resource to the city. It’s just that serving as a knight would be useless when you could be so much more useful.”

That stole your attention.

Instantly, you looked up at Kaeya with hopeful eyes.

“R-really? You think I can...actually help?”

Kaeya remembers how even he had been unable to stop the cruel smile from spreading across his face when he realized that you genuinely believed his words all this time: thinking yourself lesser, weaker, inferior to your fellow cadets. 

“Of course you can,” Kaeya whispered into your ear, gentle as the setting sun. 

And in this way, he managed to persuade you in a single night to abandon your dreams of becoming a soldier. Easily, he made you understand that such a thing was futile. Soldiers were expendable, and when Kaeya asked you if you thought you were expendable, you shook your head like a good girl and said you wanted to be alive to protect Mondstadt, not a dead body that could do nothing.

Still, you would have made an amazing knight. 

Would have, but not anymore.

You were born with all the qualities you needed for the job—but one by one, Kaeya’s replaced them with smarter, more reasonable goals. Your once-quick wit has been refocused on pleasing Kaeya, on figuring out whether he’d rather hear “yes, sir” or “thank you, sir” based on the question he poses you with. The calm, reassuring demeanor that once drew people into you is now nonexistent, completely replaced with something more obedient. The respect you used to allot the Anemo Archon has been redirected onto Kaeya: because what has Barbatos actually done for you? Kaeya is the one who’s given you a home, a purpose—it’s him that you pray to every day when you get on your knees.

The one thing that has remained constant is the devotion you carry for the people of Mondstadt: but that, too, has shifted.

Where you once wished to serve your people by protecting them on the front lines, you now understand that your purpose is to personally aid the superiors who already know how to do the job, to make Kaeya happier so that he can protect the nation for you. 

It was hard, at first.

But your mind is pliant, now, moldable and malleable as Kaeya wraps a hand around your naked hip to halt your grinding.

“Now, now,” he chides, kissing your shoulder as he continues to write his report. “None of that. I’ll fuck you nice and good after I’m done with this, so don’t distract me.”

“But—but sir,” you whine, wriggling your hips gently on top of Kaeya as if hoping that it’ll convince him to forgo the report and fuck you now. 

Internally, Kaeya appreciates how well you’ve acclimated to your new life. Externally, he clicks his tongue and lays a slap against your bare bottom, ignoring your delighted giggle.

“Be a good girl and let me focus. These are important documents, okay? You being here only helps me work if you’re not trying to distract me. Or do you not want to help Mondstadt out after all?”

That line always works, and you instinctively coil in on yourself, ashamed as you halt your playful teasing and rest your head on Kaeya’s shoulder. 

“I—I want to help Mondstadt…”

“I thought so. So be a good girl and keep my cock warm until I’m done.”

And you do a good job of it. Oh, you do such a good job, your little cunt clenching down on Kaeya the whole time as he proofreads his report once, then twice (and then thrice, though that’s more to torture you than it is to actually check for mistakes)—and when Kaeya finally tucks his report inside an envelope, sealing it with the crest of the Cavalry Captain, he knows you deserve a reward.

“Good girl,” he coos, slipping his gloves off to massage the soft flesh of your ass with his bare hands. “How did that feel? What do you want me to do to you?”

“Felt good,” you whisper, and Kaeya loves the shudder that runs down your spine when he drags a finger to circle at your clit. “P-please, Sir. Want more. I-if you have time. If you're busy with your captain duties...I can w-wait. But if not. Please.”

So cute, Kaeya thinks, loving how even now, months after you’ve been isolated from the world, you still cling to the naive hope that somehow, being Kaeya’s private slut is contributing to the prosperity of Mondstadt. Not that it’s something Kaeya will ever correct. He can keep you here for as long as you believe you want to be here, so he won’t do anything to jeopardize your innocent naivety. 

“Hmm, you’re going to be more specific than that, sweetheart. What do you want more of?”

“You, Sir,” you gasp, rolling your hips down on Kaeya’s cock to enunciate your point. “Wanna get fucked. Pretty please.”

“Oh?” Kaeya chuckles, lifting you up and laying you down on his desk, not caring about the paperwork your body is sprawled over because goddamn, you look hot like this, tits exposed, face flushed, pupils dilated, like the only thing you can think about is Kaeya’s cock and how bad you want it.

“You don’t want anything else?”

Normally, this is the part where you deliver a mumble about Mondstadt and how you want prosperity for the nation. Those comments have been getting more and more halfhearted recently, overshadowed by your larger desire for the overwhelming pleasure that Kaeya, and today—

Today, you forget about your so-called love for Mondstadt altogether.

“No,” you babble, wrapping your legs around Kaeya’s hips, desperately trying to tempt him into fucking into you. “No, Sir, don’t want anything but you so please, please, please—”

A breathy laugh falls from Kaeya’s lips as he leans over to press a quick kiss to your forehead. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” His hands find your hips, slender fingers digging in to grip them with bruising force as he prepares to wreck you from the inside. “I’ll always give you what you want.”

[screwhope]

STEVE IS SOMETHING OF AN ENIGMA IN EMMA'S STORY ----- once idolized as the shiny figurehead of shield , then demonized as the reckless vigilante that put their nation at risk over a wanted criminal. perhaps she'd never made the switch over to seeing him as a villain -- IF WINTER TRUSTED HIM , EMMA HAD NO FOOTING TO DOUBT HIM. so very few ever earned that from him. learning more about who he was --- bucky , not winter --- helped make it all make sense. she can't blame the blonde for saving him ; they were all each other had anymore. a fragment of the past ---- more than she had.

❛ ouch. that stings. i figured i made more of an impression than that. did i not even make it into your little apology book ? ❜ her lip curls up a bit at the corner of her mouth , nose scrunching like he'd actually hurt her somehow. at his question , her face relaxes as emerald eyes flicker away , gaze dancing over the numerous people around them. ❛ DRUNK PEOPLE ARE HONEST PEOPLE. assholes , usually , but they don't lie to you. well , except for when they call you prettier than you are. or try to spike your drink ------- ❜ a laugh , sharp &* clipped. ❛ but more than that [...] it's easy to get lost in a crowd like this. people don't remember me from anyone else. I CAN HIDE IN PLAIN SIGHT. ❜

𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑽𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑵 𝑺𝑬𝑬 just from the tense set of bucky's shoulders that this woman is someone he both knows and doesn't want around . it's probably more complicated than that -- but that's what his body language says , and steve will always back up his best friend . woman introduces herself and addresses steve and blond gives her a courteous nod , one that exudes stiff formality . ❝ i'm steve . bucky and i also go back a long time . . . but he's never mentioned an 'emma' . ❞

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 was never a reason to , ❞ bucky says but his tone essentially proves steve's point : he'd forgotten her until now , the knowledge buried deep in the back of his mind . he doesn't care for making her feel bad , necessarily : but she's obviously sought him out for a reason . he's anxious to get to it , to find out what she really wants . ❝ what's so great about bars ? always full of obnoxious , drunk people . ❞

[goji-pilled]

i'm still not done... this is still technically the set up... god... anyways here's me trying to flush out this brand spankin new OC nd addin lore nd context to this story.

Nakano was currently limping as best as she could to Mitikihara Hospital after running from her friend- no, the monster that took Nagi-chan’s face.

Bushida Nakano is a girl who didn’t want much out of life besides the usual “happiness” and cliche desires teens want when they grow up. She was raised by well-enough-off parents who did everything they could to be kind and caring, helping her whenever she ever needed assistance in growing up or just being there when times were rough on her. They helped her find her love in action and in comedies, always bouncing off one another during the early mornings and late evenings when pop got back from work, even encouraged her… less diplomatic way of resolving conflict with unsavory sorts with the Mitikihara Martial Arts club; heck pop and ma went ahead and even taught her some moves to start her off.

Yes, Bushida Nakano was a fairly content and happy teenage girl who went through most of her first semester at Mitikihara High wanting nothing more than what she already had.

And then she met Nagisa “Tomoe” von Seckendorff one night and everything changed. Okay, well, it didn’t change at all until that next week, and she technically already met Seckendorff during the start of the school year and even then she didn’t really know anything about the gal.

But for some reason, she wanted to get to know her.

Nagisa - or ‘Lotte as she liked to be called sometimes, didn’t mind not being called by her family name which, yeah - was an enigma to Nakano. During their first week of classes, Nagisa-san would often have some trouble with subjects like literature and history but seemed to prosper in home-ec and mathematics. Then there was that time when one of the third years was picking on a second year, and just before Nakano was about to unleash the hammer of justice on ‘em Nagisa just rounded the corner and had none of it; the tall first year had snuck up on them somehow and grabbed one of the bullies’ hands before he swung, and just tossed him into a trash can before knocking some sense into the others.

When Nakano asked at the time, consoling the second year and tending to his bruised neck, why Nagisa would do something like that the girl just responded, “Mama raised me right, and Ma wouldn’t have it if I didn’t help someone in need.” Women after her own heart~.

Soon Nakano was paying more attention to Nagisa-san during class hours and noticed some other peculiarities about the girl. Sometimes the tall platinum blonde - not white or gray, as she and the rest of the first year posse of gossip girls learned the hard way - would stare off into the city and mutter under her breath to herself; Nakano was no worldy sort but she could’ve sworn she heard some bits of German when she caught some whispers (and felt fiercely vindicated when she was right). On days when some poor sap didn’t have anything to eat or enough cash to buy some lunch from student stores, Nagisa-san would just pull out pieces of cheese she was munching on from outta nowhere and just offer some. Nagisa-san always had this sad and distant look whenever she offered, but she always had such a bright smile when someone took a piece or two…

What really made Nakano want to become friends with Nagisa-san however, was when the class went on a short field trip to the heart of Mitikihara City and entered a museum dedicated to Mitikihara’s rapidly promising growth over the years. When she was being heckled by some chauvinist assholes and about to give them a piece of her mind, Nagisa-san was nearby with a witty quip to distract them all, directing all attention on her. She sauntered a ways towards the gift shop while taunting the pricks before suddenly getting in their faces and whispering something Nakano couldn’t hear. The jerks left and all Nagisa-san did was giggle with a cheeky smile.

Oh, she wanted to be this girl’s friend so bad.

She got her wish when she bumped into Nagisa-san one night when she was headed back home after a long club session; the sun had gone down and the seedier entitled assholes were starting to roam the night. When she stumbled upon the taller girl who wore a weird cross between a shawl and nightie over a brown crop top, long black and red polka-dotted gloves reaching the elbows, with an open-fronted skirt over brown tights with padded re soles Nakano couldn’t stop herself from stuttering out, “You headed to the Netherlands for a cheesecake confection?”

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

She could only breathe a sigh of relief when Nagisa-san stuttered a lame, “You run outta gum to kick an’ asses to chew?”

From then on they became the closest peas in a pod anyone could’ve met. Of course, it didn’t start off that way: Nakano had all but dragged Nagisa-san to her home to meet her folks over dinner and to explain why the hell she was wearing such a ridiculous outfit. When they reached the home front, however, Nagisa-san had changed out of her getup into her school uniform somehow while Bushida kept an iron grip on her wrist. Did she just change her clothes while Nakano didn’t notice, in the dark of night, while in public, all while she was holding onto the taller girl’s wrist!?

She didn’t focus all that well after those thoughts and barely got through introducing Nagisa-san as her friend to ma and pa before said new friend went home.

So that's how Bushida Nakano cornered Nagisa "Tomoe" 'Lotte von Secekendorff on the school rooftop and demanded answers from the tall silver haired girl. Who promptly did her best to nonchalantly deny any sort of weirdness that could have happened last night and walked back to class. It was then and there that the martial artist performed her ultimate fighting technique.

Relentless puppy dog eyes! With incessant questioning!

It didn't work… for a week Nakano gave her best impression of a kicked puppy begging for scraps with shiny eyes and a quivering lip, and it got nothing out of Nagisa-san. Neither did any of her attempts to ask innocuous questions about her little late night cosplay adventure. No matter what she did or what questions she asked the taller girl Nagisa-san never gave anything more than queer look and a brief "What'chu talkin' 'bout?" before going back to whatever it was they were doing. Even if she never got to the bottom of whatever weirdness Nagisa-san was keeping to herself, that was fine by her. In the end the two wound up hanging around each other so often that they just decided to seal the deal with a bow and fist bump ("You are such a dork." "S-shut up Nagi-chan!") and called themselves friends. When the puppy dog eyes got her sighs of endearment instead of forced smiles she didn't know, but Nakano didn't care to find out when it had all changed.

Actually, she probably knew when things started to be… different between the two of them. Probably around the time she followed Nagi-chan into that weird un-reality space - a labyrinth, she remembered from her friend's crash course lesson - and nearly got mauled to death by a cross breed monster that was cotton ball and tiger. That was the day when she realized what Nagi-chan was doing nearly every night after school ended. It was the day she saw her friend be so afraid and scared when she was always aloof and cool and confident. It was the day her friend confided in her what was essentially a war with no end in sight, and how she gave up her future to fight for the betterment of the world.

That was the day she realized Nagisa-san could one day not be with her anymore. That she didn't know how she'd live in a world without Nagi-chan. That Nagi-chan was more than just Nagi-chan to her.

After that revelation Nakano did her best to be strong for Nagi-chan, to be a pillar of strength for when the days were too much for her friend. Whenever they hung out after their extracurricular activities they met up at either the Mitikihara Shopping Center or at each other's houses. She'd try her best to give Nagi-chan some form of a normal teenage girl life that was robbed of her, and they would do their best to finish their calculus homework while babysitting Anthony-kun and Tatsuya-kun. One day Nagi-chan came over in the dead of night one winter, standing outside her front door with a nasty bruise on her stomach with a limp arm clutching the other; she had never seen her friend look so very tired before. Everything was just a blur after she dragged her friend inside to tend to the wounds. In one moment she was applying rubbing alcohol and bandages to the wounds, the next they were hugging on the bed in Nakano's spartan-like bedroom.

Then, the silence between the two was broken as Nagisa asked her a question.

"Ka-chan… would you miss me… if one day I…"

She didn't need to finish that thought, whether it be the pragmatic inevitability of the magical girl's fate or a tired, sad, and lonely girl's more intrusive ideas; she's confided in her friend thoughts and frustrations she believed she could never divulge with her family.

But the answer was so easy to give.

"Of course I would, Nagi-chan."

"...Would you still be with me… if one day I… wasn't myself?"

Another thought, another easy answer.

"I'll always be with you, no matter what. I'll always be there for you."

"... Nakano…" the taller one pushed herself out of the hug, and looked into the tomboy's eyes. "I don't know if I could… go on without telling you something, really really important."

A nod, and a firm grip on her friend's hand. A sign of trust, to listen to whatever needed to be said. No matter what it was, she knew she'd stay with Nagisa-san.

"I-I don't know, what I am to you is more than or just as a friend. But, you mean so much more to me than just a friend, Nakano. I wanted to tell you, before there's a day I don't come back…

"And… I wondered if you ever felt… something more between us, or if I was just d-deluding myself."

She already knew what answer to give.

That was the day they became a pair, and today was supposed to be a day where they celebrated their relationship having lasted for so long; a miracle for Nagi-chan based on her old romance experiences. But then everything spiralled into disaster. They were trapped with a labyrinth, a barrier created to protect witches and hide them from the world. There weren't any familiars guarding the witch but they weren't needed, a team of young magical girls all lied dead by the angel they had tried to fight. Nagi-chan had created her own bubble barrier to protect Nakano, and then went off alone to do what a team could not.

Then searing, agonizing pained branded itself onto Nakano's arms and chest. She couldn't feel anything but the burning heat that lit her exposed flesh aflame and howled her suffering for the world to hear. And then she fell on her leg, badly, and barely contained her screams as she gasped at the sight before her. Her friend, her Nagi-chan, had a monster take one of her arms place and it was devouring the holy creature's wing. Nagi- the thing that looked like Nagi-chan slaughtered the angel, the fight ending so fast as the monster ate its way through the ephemeral witch.

When they came back to the real world Nakano was stuck trembling in fear as the thing - no, not a thing, a witch, it had to be - that took Nagi-chan's place was panting in the alley, most likely savoring its kill. The Not Nagisa then turned to face her, a feral look in its swirling eyes as it slurped its tongue back into its mouth. It made a move to get closer to her, but Nakano still had enough strength to stand and back up.

"Stay away from me, witch!"

Not Nagisa froze, most likely hoping its ruse was still salvageable enough to continue its plan to - what, hypnotize her? To manipulate her into bringing more prey? Whatever unsavory or horrid plans it had laid out for Nakano? Its face went through a variety of emotions before settling on arrogant calmness.

"Ka-chan, it's okay. We're safe now, I took care of the witch."

She wouldn't stand for this. Nakano broke down the demon's lies and then took that opportunity to do the one thing she could do.

She ran.

She ran from the witch and made her way to the hospital. Nakano took back streets and alleys to try and shorten her trip, her legs growing weak as the damage inflicted upon slowly became too much for her. Her vision started to blur as it grew harder and harder to breathe. Nakano couldn't keep herself up anymore and stumbled to the dirty floor of the shopping district.

Nakano couldn't believe it, she couldn't understand. How was that thing, that witch, able to pull the wool over her eyes for so long? How did she never notice that the Nagisa she spent these past six months with wasn't really her Nagi-chan!? Hell, was Nagi-chan even the same Nagi-chan from the beginning of the school!?!. How long had she been played and manipulated by such a wretched demon!

How did she never notice Nagi-chan's failure to come back to her?

Nakano didn't want to know, she didn't want to think about it. She tried to stop thinking, to just stop and rest, the pain becoming too much to bear and succumb to her wounds. But in the absence of her thoughts, her breathing becoming to weak for her own ears to hear, she heard- no, felt a voice.

Greetings, Bushida Nakano.

The broken girl gasped, and swiveled her head as best as she could to find the source of the voice. Her eyes settled on a white mass of fluff that stared at her with ruby eyes and a closed cheshire grin. The creature padded its way to the girl, appendages atop its head - its ears? - reached out to her chest and placed itself atop her broken leg. Ignoring the wince from Nakano's mouth the creature continued.

You hold great potential within your heart. With how much latent power you hold, I could grant you any wish you so desired.

A wish? Potential? What the hell was this thing talking about? Nakano wasn't strong, she was weak. She didn't have the strength to help Nagi-chan with her struggles, the power to help keep her safe from this cruel world. She was nothing…

All I ask is that you form a contract with me and become a Magical Girl, and hunt down Witches, and your wish will be granted!

Magical girls… witches… was this thing responsible for…

Nevermind… Nakano knew what she needed to do now. Her mind flashed to Nagi-chan, of how she fought battle after battle within a war with no end. Fighting against a force that would plague the world until the end of time, a thankless job for the forgotten and ignored. She remembered a distinct moment she had with Nagi-chan, when she asked if she could help her friend in any way.

"Honestly Ka-chan, just being there for me is enough."

"I know, you always say that… but couldn't I help you by also becoming a-"

"No! Don't ever finish that sentence. Don't even think about that! If you did, I'd…"

"...I'm sorry Nagi-chan. If I can help it, I won't ever allow that to happen."

"Thank you. I'm sorry, it's just… you're important to me, ya know?"

"Mhmm. I know~!"

Heh. Sorry Nagi-chan. But you'd understand, right? That this is for you?

Don't worry. I'll be with you soon.

tune in next time when I write maybe the finale for this little story. maybe, might be a two part finale. maybe an epilogue. i dunno i dont control how much i write.

／人◕ ‿‿ ◕人＼

AAAAAAAAAAAA OH THIS SO GOOD...

[arvandus]

Hello! Happy 750!!! So I have this OC with a singing quirk. She’s basically like Giselle from enchanted where she can control the people and animals and occasionally plants and wind with just her voice. However she processes everything around her as music so it’s constantly playing in her head and gives her severe insomnia. She’s also a member of the LOV so I was wondering what her interactions with each of the members would be like but mostly Dabi. Would they find her annoying or fun? Up to you

Thank you! It took me a little bit to dwell on this one, because the idea is so interesting! But I finally got hit by the Inspiration Imagination, and here we are! I hope you like it; I've adjusted it to x Reader per your request, and I hope you don't mind I took just a little bit of creative license for the Reader's perspective and how to describe her quirk.  I also kept it very Dabi-focused in the interest of time.

Dabi x F!Reader w/ a singing quirk (SFW)

💙 It would be a rocky start at first. Dabi would have difficulty trusting you, simply because your quirk is so powerful. Anything that could potentially take away his free will would make him mistrustful and want to avoid said threat like the plague - or remove it entirely.

💙 But Shigaraki says you’re off limits, so he settles to keep you at arms length while at the same time keeping a close watch on you. One wrong slip, and he’ll handle you himself (or so he tells himself).

💙 He also mistrusts you because… well… as a fellow insomniac, he knows that you’re up at all hours of the night. He’s not sure why, of course… he never knocks on your door to ask. But he hears you shuffling around in your space, pacing in your room. What could possibly keep you up so late every single night? What’s got you looking so exhausted every day as if you never sleep? He’s convinced that you’re a spy, somehow sending messages to their enemies when everyone is asleep. Except he never hears you leave your room. Never hears you talking to anyone. So there must be something he’s missing.

💙 You’re an enigma to him, and it drives him crazy. Dabi doesn’t like unknowns.

💙 On your end, Dabi drives you nuts. He’s an asshole, every word that falls from his mouth laced in backhanded compliments and passive-aggressive accusations. You’d come close to using your quirk on him on many occasions, just to make him shut up or leave the room. Fortunately for Dabi, you have a personal code of honor that you abide by, and controlling people through your singing is only reserved for your enemies.

💙 He’s not your enemy… not yet at least.

💙 You know why he doesn’t trust you, and you don’t blame him… and he's certainly not the first person to be suspicious of you. But does he really gotta be such a dick about it? You try to be upfront with him, to explain that you live by a code and he’s safe from your quirk, but it makes little difference. Dabi doesn’t trust easily, and promises mean very little to him.

💙 His trust is finally gained when you use your quirk to save him and the other league members from certain death. There’s nothing quite like the sensation of hearing the beautiful notes of your voice while in freefall and then feeling himself being caught on a strong wind current, only to be set safely on the ground seventy meters below.

💙 After that happens, he begins to take an even greater interest in you, but this time with more curiosity and less mistrust.

💙 He starts poking and prodding, some questions being asked directly, while others are only implied. After all, he loves his little mind games, and even more so, he loves getting under your skin, especially since you refuse to use your quirk on him. It’s basically given him a ‘get out of jail free’ card for being a brat.

💙 He really, really wants you to prank the others using your quirk. And your little miss “I’m a good girl with a special code of ethics” makes the game that much sweeter. After all, you’re just as much a villain as the rest of them. If Toga can go around swinging her knives from her fingertips, then why couldn’t you sing a little song now and then?

💙 But Dabi quickly learns that you’re just as stubborn as he is, if not more so.

💙 Even so, it’s frustrating for you because if it were anyone else you wouldn’t have put up with this level of bullshit. The persuasion, the flirting, the school-yard level dares… the man has no shame and tries every tactic in the book to try to get what he wants from you. What makes it even worse is that a secret part of you enjoys his mischief. His ideas are tempting sometimes. Especially when the other league members annoy you.

💙 On top of all that, he is strangely alluring, even with his scars. And more importantly, the ‘song’ his body gives off is, well, a pleasant one to say the least.

💙 Every person has a ‘musical aura’ more or less, a small symphony of heartbeats, breaths, and something more… ephemeral. It comes through in the way they move through the environment, in the way the air particles are displaced around them and vibrate with their energy.

💙 And for some reason Dabi’s song is practically intoxicating, just like his sharp blue eyes that always seem to pin you down, heavy lids held up by a cocky smirk.

💙 The two of you reach an impasse in your battle of wills, an unspoken stand-off that never wanes. And it’s upon this competitive dance that the two of you begin to build some strange sense of camaraderie.

💙 He’ll eventually give up on his desire for pranking his comrades when he sees you use your quirk on heroes. But not just any hero, of course…

💙 Imagine Dabi’s glee when you use your song quirk to make Endeavor literally dance as the large man’s face flushes red with rage. It was intended to keep him busy while the League made their escape. But it makes it all over the news of course, and becomes viral online for months. The laughter that the two of you share when you get back to the hideout lasts for hours as you watch the news replay the scene over and over it. It really never gets old.

💙 Oh man, does he like you even more now. You’re his new favorite person. And he finally stops harassing you about using your quirk on the League members, instead finding much greater enjoyment in targeting different heroes together.

💙 There will come a time that he’ll catch you on one of your many insomnia-induced nights. It’s a hard one, sleep being kept at bay by the musical cacophony surrounding you, despite your obvious exhaustion. Your strength finally shatters, and you break down into tears in your room in frustration.

💙 Guess who ends up knocking on your door?

💙 Of course Dabi heard you. For months he’s been listening to the pacing of your feet or your frustrated sighs through the thin, old walls. It’s almost become a lullaby to him by this point, a way for him to know that you’re safe and sound… more or less.

💙 “What’s wrong, doll?” he’ll ask, as he stares down at your tear-streaked face. “I can hear ya through the walls, so don’t gimme any of your bullshit excuses.” Anyone else would hear the mockery in his voice, but for you with your quirk, you can hear the song of caring weaved through them, a hidden secret that you’re sure even he doesn’t realize is there.

💙 He won’t wait for an answer as he enters your personal space and makes himself comfortable.

💙 His sudden presence and that comforting familiar song it brings with it soothes more than you’d like to admit.

💙 But you do admit it. You admit to everything. The fatigue you feel, the way your quirk makes you suffer, and how for some reason, the song of him puts you at ease, drowning out the other noise. It’s like your inner radio is tuned just for him. Normally you wouldn’t admit to any of this of course, but you’re well past the point of exhaustion now, and your brain isn’t running as smoothly as it normally would. So what did it matter if you told him everything? You really didn’t have the strength to care anymore.

💙 “Your quirk is fuckin’ weird.” he admits. Then a grin will spread across his face. “You like my ‘song,’ huh? C’mere.”

💙 He’ll have you lay down with him on your bed and hold you close to him, your head on his chest as he rests his chin in your hair. “Does it help?” he’ll ask.

💙 Shockingly, it does. His music surrounds you, and you close your eyes as you let it cover you like a warm blanket. Everything else seems to fall to the wayside, your tired brain only able to focus on one melody - his. Before you can even nod in response, you’re fast asleep.

💙 It’ll become a habit for you two now… On particularly hard nights, he’ll keep you company and hold you. And maybe… maybe he’ll start letting you keep him company when he has hard nights too.

[anika-ann]

Conundrum (A.B.)

Type: One-shot, challenge fic

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!reader    Word Count: 7700 (:

Summary: conundrum - a confusing and difficult problem or question

Andy Barber is a difficult man whom you have yet to understand. He certainly doesn’t make it any easier; and right before Christmas, he manages to surprise you again.

Prompt: You have to look for a gift impromptu

Warnings: a smidge of angst, a drop of awkward humour, mention of death (mild AU - both Laurie and Jacob!), alcohol consumption, feels, explicit language, reader gets called a dumbass... that’s it I hope, lemme know

A/N:  This is my submission for the Happy Hoelidays challenge. There’s no hoeing tho, shame on me. Also, if you want some music to go with this, know that I listened to ‘God I Hope This Year Is Better Than the Last’ by SYML an obscene amount of times.

Andy Barber was an enigma.

Reporters liked to think he wasn’t; almost a year ago, they tore down all the walls he had built up to protect the privacy of his family and they shed light into startingly intimate details of his life – and where they couldn’t shed light, they used their imagination and sold it with a claim of having a reliable source. Naturally, it worked; there were always people willing to believe it just so they obtained more of juicy gossip material.

There were wanabe psychologists who would address his trauma and tried to analyse his personality, the consequences he would suffer in the aftermath of the tragedy, who attempted to strip down his soul just to get a few more reads and generally talked about him as if they were best friends, as if they knew him.

It was all a load of bullshit.

The truth, you thought, was that no one knew him. If you were being honest, you weren’t sure if even his wife ever had, truly – but that was you under the influence of the little information you bothered to gather from the influx of crap that the media provided the public with.

What you believed was that the reporters and all the self-proclaimed experts on him knew nada.

Andrew Barber was and always would remain an enigma; to the public, to the little what remained of his family after the death of his wife and son, to his co-workers – the category which included you. If you could even call yourself a co-worker; you were simply a secretary. Granted, one whose previous employer let her peek over their shoulder quite a bit so you learned a thing or two about law, but Andy Barber was the lawyer. The former DA from Boston, who moved over to rule the DA office of Portland, your home.

Even after having been working with him for nine full months, Andy’s thoughts and feelings didn’t get any easier for you to read or predict. When he wanted to let you know he was disappointed, he did. When he was truly angry with someone, well, he wouldn’t let it go unnoticed either.

Other than that, however, you would have had better luck trying to decode the actual enigma-encrypted messages sent during World War II.

Small talk didn’t last longer than three sentences from you each. Work-related affaires were discussed in his office with politeness and with calm, rather dispassionate mannerism. If you caught a hint of a smile when an important case that helped people went his way (or the office’s way really), you considered it a miracle that sent your heart reeling.

He would sometimes smile only for you if you brought him a coffee without him asking first, simply because he looked like he needed one; at those times, he would thank you softly and let slip in your first name instead of referring to you with your last. Those were your favourite moments.

Well, almost.

You found him with a tumbler and an expensive whiskey on occasion when you were leaving the office late; you never commented on it, but there were four times he actually silently invited you to have a glass with him. You refused the first time and accepted the other three.

Those nights, you got a glimpse of the mystery of a man hidden behind surprisingly soft mannerism, one which was in such a sharp contrast to his shark-like demeanour he displayed in front of the judge and the jury. His scars ran deep, his hopes had been shattered, his life in the past year as bitter as the overpriced liquor. Your heart cracked for him to the point of nearly breaking altogether.

And yet, it was beating for him too; behind all that hurt, you couldn’t but notice certain gentleness. Yes, he could be scary, downright terrifying and when his temper got the best of him, the true rage on display, he was a force to be reckoned with. But oh, that gentleness. The kind shattered soul he hid so well every morning, more so on the days right after your little heart-to-hearts. Trying to build a working relationship with him – a friendship of a sort, anything you wanted to call it – was a game of push and pull and more of a string of guesses than an effort that would bore fruit.

You might have already given up on that and instead, with the ferocity you hadn’t known you possessed, you kept punching the crush you had on him; that silly thing that would always call louder and louder after he revealed a piece of him on one of the precious nights, only to shut you out completely the next morning.

Andy Barber had never even remotely showed a romantic interest in you and by God, did you not blame him for not being interested in anyone at all as far you knew. While you considered yourself a fairly capable worker and half-decent person, you were aware you could never measure up to him. Just another reason to push down the feelings you had for him, ones that seemed to bloom with more intensity whenever he raised the corners of his damn lips, when he asked a question about you during those stupid nights as if he cared— nonsense. You had to get rid of those. He didn’t even like you, barely acknowledged you in the end. Or did he? You honestly didn’t know.

Bottom line was that if you couldn’t get close enough, then the reporters knew jack shit, no matter how much reading on him they had done or how many books on psychology, criminology and law and shit they went through. Many people knew Andrew Barber’s name, but no one could hope to know him.

And yet, those assholes still called and asked about him.

It was the fourth one that day; December 23rd, over a year from the accusation of Jacob Barber, and those fucking vultures still called Andy Barber’s office. They weren’t even good newspapers and news sites anymore; obviously, because every rational decent person would have let the poor man rest. But nope. Not them.

“Portland’s DA office, secretary of Mr. Barber speaking. How may I help you?”

“Oh, wonderful! Is there any chance I could talk to Mr. Barber personally?” the chipper of a man asked on the other end of the line and just by not giving his name, he raised suspicion; was it forgetfulness caused by his distress or intention?

Fortunately for him and unfortunately for you, you had to be polite. Hot-shot lawyers and other important people rarely returned the courtesy, but that was the world you lived in.

“There might be, Mr-?”

“Oh, Connor. Peter Connor.”

“Well, Mr. Connor, what is your legal issue?” you asked patiently, writing down his name automatically.

“Well, you see, I would rather talk with Mr. Barber about—my delicate situation, in private.”

Your eyes narrowed as you stopped scribbling and spared a brief glance towards the door to Andy’s office. It was opened ajar in what could be an invitation, but all blinds on both the door and the windows were down in typical fashion.

Talk in private?

Yeah, not gonna happen. You knew a few tricks that these assholes calling the office tended to pull and whoever this man was, you were growing more suspicious by the minute that he was not seeking legal advice.

You went back to your notes and wrote down the word liar right next to his name and a question mark. Was he a liar? One way to find out you guessed; you caught your phone between your ear and your shoulder, opening a new tab in your browser to google the name along with a wild guess of him being a reporter.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Connor, I’m afraid I will need more information before I put you through. And I will probably need to make you an appointment, my boss is a very busy man-“

“Oh, is he? Lots of cases in Andrew Barber’s new district, huh?”

The blood in your veins was set aflame even before the search was done, because in an instant, you knew for sure.

And then you had it confirmed by the results.

This jerk had even given you his real name, utterly shameless. Sure, he could have only had the same name as the journalist you found, but what were the chances? Two days after you told his colleague – who had made it through your vetting, got an appointment and even got past the reception desk before you spotted him for what he was – to get lost and not try again?

Your pulse skyrocketed along with your blood pressure. Technically, you didn’t owe Andrew Barber anything, but he was respectful enough, didn’t make much trouble and for most time, was an okay boss to you.

You owed him this much: he was a decent guy. Why couldn’t other people show a shed of basic human decency too and leave him the fuck alone?

“That depends, Mr. Connor,” you purred, barely holding the outrage locked inside. You felt both energized by your anger and achingly tired and done with humanity. You rested your elbows on the desk and leaned onto it with a sigh, massaging the bridge of your nose, eyes closed. “Is he going to have to sue your rag of a newspaper or will you and your colleagues finally get the memo and leave. His. Personal. Life. Alone?!”

You most definitely strained the last words through your teeth, but you didn’t care anymore if you were being rude. He was the fourth reporter today ready to ask about Andy’s personal matters. The FOURTH!! He was lucky you didn’t tell him to go fuck himself… explicitly.

“Are you threatening me?” the man demanded, his voice insulted, losing all traced of pretence.

As if you ever. You knew better than that, working with lawyers.

“Nice try, Mr. Connor.  I will thank you to never call this office again unless you have legal issues or a relevant question which you should direct to our PR department anyway. And if you could extend this to all editorial staff, please, preferably to all editorial staff in the United States, that would be splendid. Have a good day. Happy Holidays.”

You slammed the phone down, missing the slot for it, not caring. You were sure he would hang up on his own.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath and hid your face in your palms, grunting, fingertips sinking into your hair.

“I hope you don’t mean me,” sounded from the doorway and you yelped, honest to god yelped and straightened in your seat, head snapping up-

-only to meet your boss’ curious gaze. Hurt and anger casted shadows over his beautiful cerulean irises, but there was no mistaking the melancholy and resignation on his face either.

“Of course not!” you blurted out quickly, panic rising in your chest.

How much had he heard? Was he going to fire you for being unprofessional? Did he figure out what was this about— of course he did, there was little room left for doubt. Your choice of words was pretty straightforward.

Andy bounced off of the doorframe he was leaning onto, not easing his stance – his arms remained crossed over his chest and had you not been so alarmed, you would have indulged in the sight of his biceps nearly cutting through the seams of his shirt.

“Why do I get the impression that whoever you were talking to was not the first person to call the office to feed on ‘the misery man’ that Andrew Barber is?” he more stated than asked, his tone unmistakably bitter.

You gulped as he approached your desk, nails digging into your palms. You had no idea what to say. Once again, you couldn’t quite read Andy; you had no idea where this was heading and how you should answer without setting him off, making him sadder or even more bitter. And without getting fired, obviously.

“I—uhm, well, I suppose you heard me, so you know he wasn’t the first—Mr. Barber. I apologize-“ His eyebrows rose a fraction and you didn’t dare to analyse why. “-if I was too loud. But--- humanity sucks.”

The moment the last two words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them, snapping your eyelids close and squeezing. You were sure you were about to have bloody crescents in your palms from your nails at this point.

Did you really just say that? To your boss, no less?

Way to go, me.

“Not wrong there. Why don’t you take your lunch break now?” he offered casually.

You nodded as you felt the tell-tale burn of tears forming in your eyes; fuck, this was humiliating. Why had he had to walk in exactly in that moment? And now using that tone?

He didn’t say anything else and you didn’t dare to look at him. Only when you heard him walk back to his office and close the door behind him, you opened your eyes and released the breath you were holding, your heart hammering in your chest.

Gulping and swallowing your tears before they could escape, you grabbed your purse and your coat, rushing out to the cold air of Portland winter.

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Andy didn’t bring up the incident again when you came back. You had a short list of assignments for the upcoming days off which you went over with him before parting ways for the holidays. You mentioned you would probably drop in tomorrow despite not necessarily having to, but wished him Happy Holidays in case you’d miss him during your brief visit.

The corners of his lips twitched at that, but he wished you the same. You supposed his holidays weren’t about to be happy – more like the opposite. Last year, he celebrated with his family, even if it might have been already falling apart. This year however…

Your heart cracked another fraction for the man and you wondered if you should leave some cookies for him in the office tomorrow at least. Then you realized he would probably hate it, either being bitter about feeling like a charity case or hating the reminder of what he had lost, what wasn’t waiting for him at home anymore. Not to mention that maybe even the poinsettia, which you had placed on his office window two days ago and neither of you commented on, was already too much.

The only cookies you baked that night were the ones you knew should stay in a box with apples for over a day, the cookies you were supposed to bring to your sister’s house for Christmas, because your nephew Harry loved them.

With cheesy Christmas songs in the background and a bottle of wine for the party of one, you kneaded the double batch of dough and couldn’t but spare your achingly handsome and likely lonely boss a thought and maybe… maybe a tear or two.

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The office was empty when you arrived on 24th at around half past four; everyone left as soon as possible, which was to be expected. Admittedly, despite not knowing what you would talk about with Andy, you found your heart sinking when you didn’t see light peeking through the blinds of your and his offices. You had expected him to be working to avoid being at home; but then again, you knew next to nothing about him. Maybe he was with a girlfriend. With a boyfriend. With former colleagues. With his deceased wife’s family. It was only assumption of yours that he might be lonely on Christmas.

You shook your head at your train of thought as you unlocked your office, mentally going over which files you needed to bring home, trying to eliminate the amount as not to endanger confidential information by taking them away from the safety of the bureau.

You froze in your tracks when you found a rather large piece of paper folded into a roof on your desk. A note, you realized, frowning and slowly walking to the suspicious object.

There were very few people who could enter your space, namely three: the janitor, you and Andy. The first option was unlikely, the second impossible, the third confusing. You didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just shoot you a text if he needed anything.

You halted in your steps, the air knocked out of your lungs when you noticed that the note was not the only new item on your desk.

There was a box.

A box roughly size of your extended palm. And if you weren’t mistaken… it looked like a jewellery gift box.

“What the hell?” you asked yourself breathlessly, your curiosity getting the best of you; more so as you recognized what was most definitely Andy’s handwriting on the paper.

Andrew Barber, your boss, with whom you weren’t sure what your relationship was – if there was any at all – might have got you jewellery.

Say that again?

A tiny voice in your head told you he might have just used the box for something else entirely, but that didn’t seem to be his style.

So you picked up the gift carefully, almost reverently removing the lid, your heart pounding in your chest, stomach twisting with pleasant anticipation; with the familiar rush that kids feel when opening a present with high hopes of what could await them inside.

Your lips parted in pure shock, you mind turning blank.

There were no words in English language to express how… how absolutely magnificent the bracelet inside was.

Five thin circles with symbols made of slender lines inside, looking like charms, but withing the body of the bracelet, one clasped to the next one with delicate ellipses. The metal reflected the fluorescent lights of the office, glimmering softly, appearing almost fluid, a thin stream of water trapped in a box.

You actually had to blink and it took all your willpower not to pinch yourself, because—how-

How had he known? Where had he got it? Holy mother of Jesus, how much had he spent on it?

And why get you a gift in the first place? You were… acquaintances at best. Yes, there were almost friendly moments, and then there were those nights, but this was---this- you couldn’t even---- think, apparently.

Keeping an eye on the opened box, you gently placed it back on the desk, afraid to even touch the metal itself. You blindly reached into your purse in search for your phone to dial the only number that made sense for you to dial at that moment.

It sure as hell wasn’t Andy’s.

Nothing but a dialling tone sounded for half a minute, the time seemingly endless. You fell heavily into your chair, still staring at the absolutely gorgeous and thoughtful gift.

How did he know?!

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as your sister still didn’t answer the phone and your hand automatically reached for your necklace to toy with.

And that was when it hit you.

Your necklace; one you got from your sister during the period of your biggest obsession with the Divergence series. Two arrows in a circle pointing different directions, the symbol for a ‘divergent’ person. Your eyes wandered over the five circles of the bracelet – scales, an eye, hands connected, a flame, a tree –, an incredulous chuckle escaping you.

But--- you didn’t think he would notice. You didn’t even wear it all the time, rather often, yes, and yeah, perhaps you did have a bit of a bad habit of fumbling with it when nervous-

“Hey sis! What’s up?” Amber’s voice sounded cheerily from the microphone. You jumped in your seat, startled by her as she interrupted your musing. “Please tell me you’re still coming, because Harry wouldn’t shut up about his favourite chocolate chip.”

You cleared your throat, barely able to comprehend what she was talking about, too caught up in your head.

“I—hi. Uhm- I need help actually,” you finally stuttered and you could practically feel her frown even over the phone.

“Oh? Is everything okay? You sound… a little strange.”

“That’s-“ not wrong. You scanned the office and listened in for the tinniest noise, making sure you were still alone. “I’m at the office and I--eh, I found a gift for me.”

“Awww, a secret admirer? Nice!” Amber chuckled, then abruptly stopped. “…unless it’s a stalker. You don’t think you have a stalker, right? Is that why you called me, so I could tell George? He’s not on duty-“

This time you did roll your eyes at the mention of her husband who happened to be a police officer.

“No, Amber, I have no stalker as far as I know. I’m pretty sure I can recognize my boss’ handwriting at this point.”

Nothing but silence could be heard from the other end for a good minute. You bit your lip in anticipation of… something.

And then: “You’re shitting me.”

“Not really-“

“Holy mother of-!” your sister squealed loudly and you winced, instinctively withdrawing from the phone. “Your boss got you a Christmas present?! --Wait. Is it a Walmart card? Because if it is, then this call is pointless, because that’s boring as-“

“No, Amber, he—he gave me a bracelet,” you admitted softly, your gaze once again wandering over the said object. Beautiful. Fragile. Yours, apparently. What?

When Amber only responded with silence again, words suddenly spilled from your lips, all the mixed feelings you had about receiving the bracelet released, relief singing in your veins as you vented.

“And-and it’s actually really beautiful and--- it’s thoughtful, because it has all the fractions from Divergence on it? But not like something you buy for ten dollars, only paying for the copyright or whatever and the quality is shitty, no, I mean--- it looks pretty, eh, delicate.”

It did, awfully so, which was why you still couldn’t make yourself to touch it even if you really, really liked it and wanted to do nothing but to wear it for the rest of your damn life.

“And expensive. I-- I think it might be real silver and…” you wavered, almost scared to share your last observation out loud for it seemed impossible for it to be true. “Amber, you know I looked through a lot of Divergence-related goods so I would know. It- it doesn’t look familiar at all, it’s--- I think it might be custom-made.”

You choked on the last word, tasting so strange on your tongue as you couldn’t quite believe that you were saying it. You felt--- incredulous to put it simply… and touched and- absolutely bewildered.

Silence stretched in the follow-up to your rambling and you felt your brows drawing together.

“…Amber? You there?”

“Oh yeah, I’m here,” she assured you swiftly, mischief curling around the tone of her voice like a smirk on her lips you couldn’t see. “Just wondering how could you not tell me you started sleeping with him-“

“What?! No!” you protested instantly, straightening in the chair. “I’m not—I’m not his sugar baby or whatever! This is not a ‘thank you for letting me fuck you raw’ gift-“

“Not that you would complain from what I heard and saw-“ she hummed playfully.

She was right. But shush!

“Screw you!”

“George does, that’s why we have Harry in the first place,” she sassed you. “But… sis? What kind of a gift it is then?”

And wasn’t that the question.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well, you should, because from what you told me, you guys aren’t even friends. Nota bene, this isn’t exactly a gift you give to a friend,” she pointed out, addressing one of the million issues concerning the damn (gorgeous) bracelet.

“I-- I guess?” You were sure, in fact. This was something to give to a… well, to a lover, to a partner. “But- Amber, he doesn’t--- that’s not-“

“What did the note say?”

“Huh?”

“You said you recognized his handwriting,” she reminded you slowly as if speaking to a five-year-old. “What does the note say?”

You glanced at the note again noncommittally, remembering exactly what it said. Pretty much nothing. Definitely nothing to go on.

“Uhm… Thank you. Happy Holidays.”

There was a beat of silence, again. “That’s it?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Eloquent.” You rolled your eyes at her sarcastic tone. She should see him at court. True though, on personal level, he wasn’t exactly chatty. Unless he opened up a bit over a glass of whiskey--- anyway, she had a point, obviously. “What are you gonna do?”

That snapped you from your musing like a shot of life into your bloodstream.

“That’s why I’m calling! I should-- I should get him something too, right?” Right?! Absolutely. “Oh god, I hate last-minute shopping. And I don’t even have a fucking clue what to buy! Well, a good whiskey is always a safe bet I guess, but supporting his drinking habits doesn’t sound like a good idea. Plus, it’s kinda… impersonal with comparison to what he gave me.”

Though if there was one thing you learned about Andy Barber, it was that he could appreciate the high-quality liquor, so perhaps it wouldn’t have been as impersonal as one might think.

“Well, I don’t know him so I can’t really help, but what you got from him should definitely give you a clue.”

“A clue?” you parroted, confused.

“I don’t mean like a clue for what you should buy him. But… look, even if you didn’t suspect that it’s custom-made, which whoa, he has to pay a lot of attention to buy you something like this. Much more attention than you thought.”

“…okay?”

“He likes you, you dumbass! It doesn’t matter what you get him, he’ll be happy you got him anything in the first place!”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” you deadpanned, unsure which statement you were referring to. That he liked you or that you shouldn’t take care to choose something that would really bring him at least a little joy.

You tried your best to ignore how your heart skipped the beat at the former.

“Whatever. Harry’s throwing a hungry eye on me, I gotta go fix him a snack unless I want him to eat all the candy again. Good luck!”

“Amber!“ you called out in honest despair, panic rising in your chest, only to get no answer.

You pulled the phone from your ear to look at the screen, already knowing what awaited you.

Disconnected.

Fuck.

It seemed you were on your own. Wasn’t that wonderful?

You shot your sister a simple ‘I hate you’ text, the gears in your head already turning frantically in order to figure out what you could get Andy.  

Amber replied with a set of laughing emojis within seconds. Bitch, leaving you alone to deal with a situation like this! What a sister she was.

You sighed, admiring the delicate lines of the bracelet again, torn between indulgence and guilt. There was no questioning whether you should buy Andy something too.

Say yay for the last-minute shopping for a man out of your league and whom you had no idea what you should get.

You were utterly at loss, growing anxious not only about the difficult choice of a gift, but also about possible delivery, wondering what should you even tell him and when.

Maybe though…. just maybe, you were getting kinda excited about what you were about to do too.

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Three hours.

You spent almost three hours at the mall where you could barely breathe because of the crazy crowds and yet you were none the wiser; your excitement left you quickly, once again replaced by despair. It took you three hours and passing the lingerie shop four times, a shop with pieces on display that barely covered anything, intended for either bedroom games or a swimming pool, before it finally hit you.

You cursed under your breath, calling yourself an idiot in murmur loud enough to have few people around you look at you in surprise.

“Dumbass, I’m such a dumbass,” you continued your monologue as you fished out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts.

To say that the person on the other end was shocked to hear from you at this time of month and hour was an understatement.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Lee. I have… eh, a favour to ask…”

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You were being ridiculous.

Absolutely and utterly ridiculous as you stood on a modest porch in front of a small family house, the roof hiding you from the intrusive drizzle but not keeping you quite safe from the wind as you clutched your handbag to your side as if it was your lifeline, cursing yourself for not wearing a scarf in December.

Your nose was practically freezing, your cheeks burned from the wind and your hands were cold too, because you were stupidly underdressed; as if you haven’t lived in Portland your whole life.

But that wasn’t the main issue; an Uber dropped you off about five minutes ago and still, here you were, standing outside and trying to convince yourself to ring the bell.

The plan had been to finish packing a bag and leave around 10 p.m. to your sister’s house, where you would spend the night so you could be with her family on Christmas Day from the very beginning. But then Andrew fucking Barber, your fabulous boss, left a gift in your office, a breath-taking bracelet now sitting low on your right wrist, and it all went to hell.

Maybe you could still make it to your sister’s house – it was shortly after nine, your bag waiting on your bed, so maybe you should just call another Uber and be on your way. Maybe you could leave the silly envelope in the post-box just so you wouldn’t have to deal with Andy’s reaction; after all, he had chosen the same approach; cookies be damned, there would be more left for Harry then-

But you really, really wanted to thank him. And you might be shitting your pants, but the prospect of seeing him in a domestic environment, possibly more relaxed, perhaps nearing the man you had had the honour to see on those nights… you couldn’t make yourself to pass on that opportunity.

At the same time, you kept reminding yourself that Andy did not expect to see you tonight, he might not even be home – you were pretty sure a dim light was coming from the living room, the TV on probably, but yeah, you could keep lying to yourself – and that he might be grieving and genuinely might hate you for invading his privacy since you had to search his home address in the official documents.

Yeah, you definitely should just spin on your heels and-

“Oh for God’s sake,” you muttered under your breath and pressed the doorbell, your heart suddenly hammering in your ribcage as you realized there were no takebacks now. “Shit.”

Maybe you should just run. What if he had fallen asleep already and you just woke him up?! Oh, he was so going to be pissed and he might even show that emotion, screaming you down like he did one with that intern-

A scruffle on the other side of the door snapped you from your hopeless expectations and you sucked in a horrified breath.

And then the door slid open before you could react and you were certain you looked like a deer caught in the headlights, a semi-frozen deer to make the situation worse and--- there he was.

You quickly dropped your gaze, only then realizing how rude that was and that you should meet his eye no matter how much you did and did not want to do so at the same time. As you gaze travelled up, you found that a domestic Andy was everything you imagined he would be; black socks, loose dark grey sweats, pale t-shirt slightly wrinkled. One of his arms hung loosely by his side, the other still at the door-knob as you continued your inspection, gaze caressing the line of his bare forearm, reaching the sleeves that were hugging his biceps precisely. Broad shoulders, perfectly trimmed beard framing plush lips with the slightest hint of a curious smile.

You smiled awkwardly as your eyes met his watching you with interest, dimmed with a hint of a doze-off you must have woken him up from. You tried not to dwell on the inconspicuous redness surrounding his irises.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up!” you blurted out quickly, rewarded with a light shake of his head and a stifled yawn; subtle.

“You didn’t. Hi,” he greeted you, only to make you realize that 1. you forgot to say hi and 2. his post-nap voice was a thing from wet dreams-- which was definitely not relevant at that moment.

“Hi,” you offered unsurely, eyes roaming his face, searching for any trace of anger. All you found was bewilderment; if pleasant or not, you couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry for barging in. I just… uhm- I wanted to thank you and-“

The hint of a smile on his lips grew a fraction, expression softening at your admission and before you could find your footing, he opened the door further, subtly extending his hand to usher you in.

Your heart skipped a beat, the strangest feeling tickling your gut, teeth sinking into your lower lip, the grip on your handbag growing stronger. Yet you accepted, taking two reluctant steps inside. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing whatever fate awaited you.

Attempting not to look too nosy, you turned back to Andy rather than scanning the hall.

Words got stuck in your throat. As tired as he looked, worn to a bone by everything but physical exercise, you couldn’t but marvel at what a handsome man he was, even without his smart suits and ties and neatly styled fluffy hair; it was still very fluffy, just more of a mess than a fashion statement.

God, wasn’t he beautiful.

He kept looking at you too in mute anticipation of something, appearing mildly lost just as you were, giving the impression of a man who couldn’t tell what to expect.

Your gaze locked with his, unyielding, a gorgeous trap and you knew you had to say or do something before your heart gave out entirely.

Your mouth opened, no words coming out and you cursed yourself, simply opening the bag and pulling out a Tupperware box with half the cookies you baked last night, practically shoving it to Andy’s capable hands.

He accepted the item with eyebrows shooting up once before settling back, eyes misting for a moment. His fingertips brushed yours as he took a firm hold of the box, the not-quite-there smile of his remaining on his lips.

He seemed perplexed.

You felt like an idiot.

“This feels so silly now,” you admitted with a sigh, realizing the absurdity of the situation only accented by the fact that you stood there in the hall of his home in your coat and high-boots, ridiculously overdressed in comparison to him.

“It’s not,” he whispered finally, forcing the corners of his mouth to rise higher. “Thank you. Didn’t know you baked. Should have figured.”

You shrugged. “Never came up.”

Something shifted in his expression as did in the air; you knew he sensed it too. The unspoken hung between you, that you meant not in your daily routine at the office, but on your private nights, so rare and precious, so desperately pretended to be non-existent the next morning.

Your gaze lowered as the silence fell on your pair again and you awkwardly shifted your weight from one leg to the other. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“So, uh-“

“Thank you for the bracelet. Really. It was-” you licked your lips, meeting his eyes again, so deep, so blue and somehow soft and you forgot what you were about to say. “Eh- I wasn’t expecting it. I-- I didn’t think you’d… notice. And--- care.”

His brows furrowed for a bit and he placed the box on the shoe rack next to him; an action he soon regretted you guessed, because his fingers went for his wrist as if he wanted to readjust his cufflinks, a nervous habit of his, only to meet bare skin. Good to know you weren’t the only one iffy in this conversation.

“But you liked it?” he asked almost shyly and the corners of your lips rose on instinct as did you right hand, the sleeve of your coat sliding down a fraction, enough to reveal the new accessory.  “Looks pretty on you.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers gently slid over one of the symbols, brushing over the sensitive skin of your wrist. His gaze returned to yours, a flicker of something heated in his eyes, calling butterflies to your stomach.

Lord have mercy.

“Thanks- uhm--- thank you. Here, I got you something too.” You quickly reached into the handbag again to hide how flustered you felt – for a different reason than awkwardness.

He had touched your wrist and you turned into a blushing mess. Fabulous. And to make the matter more humiliating, now a twinkle of amusement played in his irises.

“You gave me a plant. And cookies.”

“Yeah. Kinda? But that was more of a… gesture?” you offered reluctantly as you handed him the envelope. “I uh—this is probably stupid, but, uhm--- here.”

“Stop putting yourself down,” he muttered darkly, causing your cheeks to burn hotter. “Thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.” Pulling out the firm colourful paper, he blinked a few times, seemingly surprised. Ha, you bet he expected a Walmart card! Instead, there was a voucher for five entrances to the swimming pool where your friend Lee worked at. “Oh. Thank you. That’s really nice of you.”

A stone the size of Texas fell from your stomach and you couldn’t help the sigh of relief. Andy seemed genuinely pleased by your choice of gift and you felt your whole body relax.

“It’s just… eh, just for half an hour each and you can pick them on a horizon of three months. I’m not sure how often you like going, so… uhm, my friend works at the place, so you just give her a call and it shouldn’t be a problem to book it for mornings right before the opening hours,” you explained lamely, earning a puzzled look.

“How did you know I liked going when no one’s there?”

That caused one corner of your lips twitch in slight amusement and your eyebrow arch, even if his reasons weren’t exactly funny; his cheeks flushed a hint of red, a sight to behold for more than one reason. It was nice to have the roles reserved, you making him feel flustered for once.

Really? The rather quiet lone-wolf Andy Barber, followed by reporters still, just asked you this? Cute.

“…that’s fair,” he said and for a brief second, you were afraid you had shared your thoughts out loud. But he didn’t look offended, so probably not. The self-awareness then. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m-eh, glad you like it.”

You stood there again, both smiling – a little reluctantly, a little soft – and once again you had no idea how to proceed.

What you did know was that you enjoyed talking to him, even if it was awkward like this. You enjoyed seeing him in his natural habitat, in his home, relatively relaxed. You thrived seeing more of this Andy Barber, just a handsome guy, not Andrew Barber, the hot-shot lawyer.

He was the first to break the silence, hesitantly gesturing further into the house.

“Would you—would you like to-“

YES! was what you brain screamed.

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother…” was what you told him, mentally cuffing yourself on the head.

“You’re not,” Andy opposed lowly. The whisper of your name that followed made you shiver.

His gazed trailed all over your face, so intense you would swear he saw right into your soul and further. You felt naked, but for some reason not too vulnerable – Andy seemed to like what he saw, expression genuinely inviting and yet. Yet there was a subtle promise of this not being a friendly invite which was as exciting as unsettling. The air appeared the crackle and you found yourself yearning to taste the electricity on your tongue.

“May I?”

He beckoned to your coat, suddenly free hands already rising and all you could do was to nod, automatically placing your handbag on the floor and unbuttoning the garment. Once if fell open, revealing simple black jeggings and a light pink sweater, Andy sidestepped you, fingers sliding under the hem, cautiously skimming over the bare skin above your collarbones, leaving a burning sensation in their wake.

The warmth of his fingertips seeped into your flesh and yet you shuddered, goosebumps rising on your skin.

You watched Andy put your coat away with care, turning back to you torturously slowly. He filled all of your personal space, so close and too far. You weren’t sure when exactly the air turned so heavy in your lungs, but as your gaze travelled to his lips, not missing how his sought yours in return, you felt all the oxygen leave the room.

“Andy,” the word rolled off your tongue, nothing but a soundless breath of his name.

His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips again and back before he spoke, voice barely above a whisper, hoarse.  

“Am I imagining it?”

He didn’t have to say what and still you knew with absolute certainty that he was addressing the unbearable and delicious tension, the one that had been building and coming to life during those three nights you had spent talking in his office late--- and now it was back with smouldering intensity.

“You’re not.”

You shivered and gulped when he cautiously took a single little step further into your space, your gaze falling to his chest, lowering in sudden surge of the deep-rotted insecurity, whispering about your and his world being thousands of miles apart. And yet, your heart raced in anticipation, your hopes dizzyingly high that you might touch heaven, even if for a few moments.  

When his fingertips grasped your jaw, tough light and oh so careful, your eyelids fluttered close, already indulging in the sensation. God, his touch was so soft despite the roughness of his fingertips…

As if he wished to torture you or to indulge that sweet little moment before lips met lips, he stopped an inch from his destination, his breaths as wavering as yours, the words whispered straight into your mouth just a little broken.

“I’m fucked up.”

Your brain basked in blissful fog, but this got across, causing you to tense briefly.

You couldn’t deny what he was saying, you both knew he spoke the ultimate truth – well, you guessed. What had happened to him, having his life dismantled and then losing his family, that sort of thing was bound to leave a scar. Confirming it bluntly though, that felt unforgiving, only adding insult to injury.

“We all are,” you whispered instead, not only because you wouldn’t say ‘fucked up’, the words too harsh.

And it wasn’t trivializing the tragic turn his life had taken. It wasn’t downplaying the depth of his wounds. It wasn’t necessarily implying that you had been through something equally horrible either. Most importantly, it wasn’t you mocking him.

And somehow, he understood that; even if he could have interpreted it in every wrong way imaginable and shove you away, insulted, disgusted.

But no, in that fleeting moment that meant everything, Andy understood that this was your acceptance; this was you telling him that you were willing to try; take whatever he offered and give anything you could in return.

Finally, his lips brushed over yours, slightly chapped and oh so warm and delicious, withdrawing too soon, leaving you to savour the taste as your ran your tongue over your own lips. You inhaled shakily, overwhelmed by everything that was him, powerful, electrifying and then your hand was somehow on his chest, your palm laid over his racing heart, your fingers twitching as his ribcage expanded with a sharp inhale.

Blindly, your mouth searched his again, his whiskers tickling softly and scratching at once, a pleasant sensation on your sensitive skin as he grew bolder, and truly attached your lips in a kiss that made you feel lightheaded with the emotion poured into it. Your hand curled around his nape, an instinct to pull him closer, fingers toying with the short soft hair there, drawing a hum from within the expanse of his chest.

You granted him access to your mouth when he wordlessly asked, but it was him who retreated shortly after that, his heart now appearing as if in pain with its furious beats under your palm. His breaths started coming out short and it dawned to you what was wrong. How fast this could have felt to him, even if he was the one to start it.

‘I’m fucked up,’ he had said. Too caught in the moment, you hadn’t fully realized the extent of his words perhaps.

But you did now – at least a little better than before.

So when he rested his forehead against yours and a breathless ‘sorry’ slipped from his lips, you shook your head lightly and planted a kiss on his cheek, hand still on the back of his head, fingers running over his scalp in a hopefully soothing motion.

“I’ve got you, Andy. You lead.”

You had no strength to keep him close when he pulled his face away, your eyes snapping open in fright that you had said something terribly wrong.

But Andy’s cerulean eyes were big and glassy, grateful and softly speaking about him being… moved by your proposition. Your heart felt like it just grew twice its size, too big to fit into your chest at what a breath-taking picture he was.

The next thing you knew, he dropped a chaste kiss to your forehead and pulled you into his arms, an almost protective embrace, kissing the top of your head for a good measure and you melted against his large frame, smiling into t-shirt.

“Thank you,” he murmured breathlessly into your hair and your smile widened, remembering the note he had left with the exquisite gift that had started everything that led you right here into this moment.

“Happy Holidays.”

Thank you for reading! I’ve been sitting on this since the beginning of damn November. I hope you enjoyed.

It was my first (and maybe last) time writing Andy, so I hope it was alright. Feedback always appreciated.

P.S. – sorry if the nosy reporters thing offended you.

P.P.S. - …I know, the prompt was veeery loosely filled. Shush.

Pretty divider by whismicalrogers.