#his natural habitat I suppose

[dykedvonte]

Mouthwashing line cook au where they get trapped in the restaurant after Jimmy starts a massive grease fire cause he put ice in the bin.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

The Belly of the Beast

[sprolden]

like the thing is the last time i was a massive fall out boy fan i was 14 and i was still trying to figure out what Good Music was and truth be told most of what i considered Good Music at age 14 is absolute dogshit. so imagine my surprise when i returned to from under the cork tree 8 years later and it wasn't just Not Dogshit, it was from under the cork tree

[waugh-bao]

[pellucid-constellations]

Are You Bored Yet?

Pairing: College!Bucky x Tutor!Reader

Summary: God, you hated Bucky. Bucky probably hated you, too. Maybe. It was hard to tell when he was drunk and calling you pretty at a party you shouldn't have gone to.

Word count: 8k

Warnings: Alcohol, annoyance to lovers, a bit of angst, a scary man in a parking lot, frat!bucky c:

a/n:​​​ I am so excited to finally post something!! It only took me four months 😅 If you enjoy it please please let me know ❤️❤️

Masterlist

~~

12:59 pm.

The birchwood table nestled in the back of the library was long but otherwise empty, the only thing occupying it being your laptop and quite a few books. He wasn’t late. Yet. You weren’t going to hold onto that hope, however.

Tutoring Bucky Barnes was not what you had in mind when you volunteered for the peer assistance program at your university. It was true you were only using the club to boost your resume, but you had assumed the only people reaching out for help would be those that actually wanted it. Unfortunately, that was not the case. 

Sure, Bucky wanted help. Just not with anything that actually warranted the word. He wanted help sweet talking the cops so they wouldn't shut down his parties. He wanted help recruiting girls to show up to his parties. And—the one thing you could actually do—he wanted help passing his classes with the minimum GPA required to not get kicked out of his frat. So he could continue to throw parties. 

Everything in his life revolved around his fraternity, which made you very important to him. When he wanted you to be. 

With your apparently astounding knowledge of biology (you took notes during lectures), you became the star in Bucky’s life every Monday and Wednesday from 1:00 pm (give or take ten minutes) to 2:00 pm. He was also very attentive during the thirty minute phone calls he initiated prior to tests, and always looked happy to see you when he passed you devouring a bagel at the crack of dawn in the dining hall. 

Every situation in which you had come in contact with Bucky was isolated and purposeful (minus the bagel). You didn’t hang out or invite each other places, and you were almost positive that if you were to see him in his natural habitat, you would want to tutor him even less than you did now, and that was saying something. So you were important to Bucky during the times you were supposed to be important, and he was important to you in the sense that he was a job. 

But as your laptop blinked the numbers 1:22 pm back at your unimpressed expression, Bucky became much less important today. You took in a long, tortured breath before sending your gaze up to the ceiling, giving it another three minutes before you truly gave up on him for the day. 

One minute. 

Two minutes. 

The library really needed new ceiling tiles. 

1:25 pm and you snapped your laptop shut. Your fingers itched to send yet another complaint about this whole ordeal Natasha’s way, but you stopped yourself. She had already heard plenty about Barnes at this point, plus she always gave you a weird look every time you came stomping into the apartment, grumbling about something else he had done. 

You hated her weird looks, all raised eyebrows and stiff lips.

With your backpack heaved onto the table and your things slowly funneling in, you figured a nap was the best reward for sitting in the library for an unnecessary twenty-five minutes. Your last prickle of irritation was stifled at the prospect of a warm bed as you stood, only to find that irritation had returned to you tenfold. In the form of Bucky Barnes. 

“You going somewhere?” he seemed to taunt, his bag slung casually over one shoulder. 

Your jaw ticked. “Home.” 

His mouth turned up at one side, an expression you had learned meant he found you amusing. He never seemed to outright laugh at your annoyance, but apparently, it was hard to tamp down all of the joy he got out of it. Bucky took two long strides to meet the table you were attempting to abandon. 

“But I still got about—” he checked his watch “—thirty-three minutes? And an arsenal of questions about amino acids. Help a guy out.” 

“And I still got—” you checked the nonexistent watch on your wrist “—no patience for this today. You’re over twenty minutes late, Barnes. Use that watch to set an alarm on Wednesday and I’ll tell you everything you’ll inevitably forget about amino acids then.” 

He groaned, rounding the table to set firm hands on your shoulders as he hovered behind you. “Sit. I’ll buy you a coffee and I promise I won’t be late on Wednesday, okay? I was dealing with something before this and lost track of time.” 

“Were you dealing with another sorority girl in your bed? Who was it last week? Amber? No, Michelle?” 

“It’s a Monday, y/n. Cut me some slack.” 

“You came to me on a Wednesday with a hangover,” you deadpanned.

Bucky grimaced, the expression visible to you as he managed to guide you back into your chair. “Oat milk, right? A double?” 

You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest as he tossed his bag by your feet and jogged over to the coffee cart just outside the library. He fumbled with his wallet when he went to pay, and you watched him point to the carton of oat milk the barista had yet to reach for. His greek letters were printed on the gray hoodie he had haphazardly thrown over his shoulders, and you held the reprimand on your tongue when you saw the matching sweatpants he donned. 

The last time he had shown up in his pajamas—late—you’d had some choice words for him. Bucky turned around with your coffee then, poking the straw through the lid and sending you a sheepish smile through the window. 

He was lucky you accepted bribes. 

~~

“Please,” the boy across from you continued to beg, a pen held loosely between pliant fingers. “Just ask her, that’s all I want. You can even come too.” 

“Oh, wow, the great frat president letting me come to his stupid toga party? How could I ever thank you enough?” 

It was Wednesday now, and Bucky was surprisingly on time to the tutoring session. You’d gotten through about half of the last bio lecture before he started asking you ridiculous questions that had nothing to do with the content. Today, he was dead set on getting your lab partner from chemistry to go to his party this weekend. 

“Okay, yeah, you could come to whatever party you want, you know? I put you on the list—but this one will be even better if you’d just do this one thing for me.” 

You finally tore your eyes from your laptop, glancing lazily at him. “And what would make this one so—wait, what list?” 

He waved you off. “The one at the door. Did it like… the second week we started this? Anyways, Wanda?” 

You let this new information settle and tried to ignore whatever implications came with being on some frat list thanks to Bucky. He had never explicitly invited you to any of his parties over the past few months and you had never asked to come. Apparently, you could have shown up whenever you wanted to and had a grand old time. 

Not that that sounded the least bit grand. 

Bucky was looking at you still, all pleading features and a soft, infuriating smile on his lips. When he wasn’t talking to random girls in the library or taking annoying phone calls in the middle of your sessions, he was sort of endearing. In a terrible, awful sense. 

You groaned, throwing yourself back against your chair in begrudging defeat. “I don’t even talk to her outside of chem. Don’t you think it’d be a little weird to invite her to a party that I’m not even going to?” 

“So come,” he answered simply, as if that was in the realm of possibilities. 

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “Sure, I’ll come to your party, Barnes.” 

“Great,” he grinned. “Vision’s gonna be so hyped.” 

You watched as he pulled his phone from his pocket and kept your lie to yourself. He wouldn’t notice that you didn’t show up on Friday, and likely wouldn’t even bring it up the following Monday. He always had such vibrant, headache-inducing stories that you were sure your absence would be nothing more than a fleeting footnote. 

“You have a toga, right?” he mumbled, face still screwed up in concentration as he continued his text. 

“Isn’t it just a sheet all twisted up?” you asked, shutting your computer. Tutoring was obviously over. 

Bucky pocketed his phone again, brows raised in amusement. “Depends on your motives for the night.” 

“And my motives wouldn’t be to… wear a toga?” 

He chuckled and huffed out your name, resting an arm along the back of the chair to his right—your chair. “Other motives. Like if you’re trying to get someone’s attention.” 

You blinked at the warmth along your back. “Oh, of course. Then I would twist up a pillowcase instead, right?”

“Something like that.” 

He smelled like coconut. Like a day at the beach but afterwards, when the sunscreen still lingered in the air but fresh clothes covered skin that had been warmed by the sun. You could usually ignore whatever expensive combination he had on his skin, but when he got close like this it was almost impossible. 

Part of you always wanted to chuck his arm away when he leaned over you, but another part of you liked that he kept it there. It was a strange part of you, the same one that relished the looks you got from sorority girls in the library and harbored a sense of pride each time he made a blatant attempt to touch you. 

You had spent fleeting moments analyzing these emotions and chalked them up to some internalized desire for validation. Nothing else. Bucky was a hot guy and everyone knew that, so having his attention—in any capacity—felt nice. Sometimes. Meaning right now it was nice that he was looking at you with his arm practically glued to your back, but next week when he showed up late with a hangover and tried to steal the jacket off your body it would be not so nice. 

The duality of man. 

It helped your partial insanity that Bucky would never actually be interested in you. You weren’t in a sorority or interested to his parent’s money, and, worst of all, you didn’t know how to maneuver a sheet into a toga. When he put his arm around you or moved your hair from your eyes as you leaned over a book, it was probably out of habit. It felt nice, but you knew reality. This was a passing phase, and by the summer you wouldn’t even speak to him anymore.

“I’ll text you more info about everything,” Bucky called, pulling you from your thoughts. “You can come early and I’ll help you with that pillowcase.” 

You froze, the book you were shoving into your bag pausing in your hands. “Uh, maybe.” 

“No, seriously, it’d be better if you came early. I was kidding about the pillowcase but if you come on time it’ll be too crazy for me to show you around.” 

“You don’t have to show me around, Bucky. I’ve been to a house party before.” 

“Y/n, are you not coming to this thing?” Bucky accused, swiping the book from your hands and softly tossing it on the table. It still made a loud thud that had a few bitter looks thrown your way. 

“Dude!” you whispered, meeting each mean gaze with your apologetic one. “Why does it matter if I come? You just wanted Wanda anyway.” 

He knocked your hand away when you went to reach for the book again, encircling your wrist with his fingers. “You just lied to me. Straight to my face. You said you’d come and now you gotta.” 

You gave his fingers an experimental tug, but he was unrelenting in his soft grip. You glared at him through your lashes, meeting his uncharacteristically stern gaze that contrasted the humor on his lips. 

“You ever hear of sarcasm?” you whispered with a half-hearted bite. 

“Unfortunately, that’s about all I hear outta you,” he smirked back. 

You rolled your eyes, finally yanking hard enough to free yourself from him. “Then you should have known I wasn’t going to come. No matter what ‘list’ you put me on.” 

“What else could you possibly have going on on a Friday night?” 

Ouch. You felt your brows furrow even though you didn’t will them to, and even worse, you felt a rash defensiveness lodge itself in your throat. You hated the heat that now prickled along the skin of your neck, and you hated even more how it extinguished all of the good warmth you had felt from him earlier. 

This was humiliation, surely—the kind that only came from feeling small. 

“You don’t have to be a dick,” you seethed, snapping up the remainder of your belongings. “Just because I don’t want to go to your stupid frat doesn't mean I have nothing to do. I don’t spend all of my time hoping to get invited to ridiculous parties.” 

Bucky shifted up in his seat, eyes blown just a fraction wider. “Whoa, I didn’t mean—hey, stop a sec, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Whatever, Bucky,” you droned, as a new temperature seeped into the skin of your palms and made them clammy. Any semblance of delusion you’d fallen into earlier was long gone now, but you knew to expect that. He wasn’t interested in you and you weren’t interested in him. But embarrassment wasn’t a good feeling, regardless of a multitude of reality checks. 

Bucky got up when you did, his clothes looking creased and lived in. “We still have time in our session,” he defended, arm jutting out to the table. “C’mon, I didn’t mean you don’t have friends.” 

Your glare sharpened. “Great, another insinuation.” 

Bucky sputtered out incoherent words as you continued your trek outside, resorting to grabbing your wrist again, this time with more urgency. You felt the heat in you simmer down to a dull throb as he made contact, mostly out of respect for your future self. If you made this a huge deal it would only embarrass you more. 

“Look, it doesn’t even matter, okay?” you huffed, but he just tugged you forward. It was then that you realized you were in the doorway of the library, effectively blocking it off from anyone trying to leave. Bucky pulled you close enough to his chest that you weren’t in the way anymore. His cologne was back with a vengeance, your nose just inches from his collar.  

You took a steadying breath, blinking away the remnants of shame. “It doesn’t matter, I overreacted.” 

He clicked his tongue. “I’m still apologizing. I didn’t mean any of that stuff you were talking about.” 

Of course he did. You were sure he thought it all the time. He just didn’t mean to say it out loud. 

“It’s fine,” you rushed. “I have to go, anyway. Office hours.” 

“Okay,” he nodded, soft and low, like he just remembered he was in a library. “You’ll still come this weekend, right? Even if Wanda can’t?” 

“You have some kind of girl quota you need to meet?” you pressed.

Bucky smiled, still so close to you that you could feel the small breath that accompanied the expression. “And she’s back.” 

You left without promising anything, and Bucky left feeling like you had. 

~~

Sometime between Wednesday and Friday, your detestment for frat parties had snowballed into determination. You were going to go and you were going to look like you were having so much fun it was ridiculous. Then, on Monday, when Bucky would usually poke and prod about what you’d gotten up to over the past few days, you were going to pretend that it was nothing for you. That you did that every weekend. 

Of course, you didn’t. Your weekends typically consisted of calm nights with friends or dinners near campus. You’d been to a party before, sure, but you didn’t exactly frequent those kinds of scenes. 

Bucky had continued to make it clear that you were invited. He had texted you a few times, prompting you to come and thanking you for getting Wanda to agree. The messages looked strange under the plethora of biology related questions, but that just spurred you further into action. You weren’t just a tutor with no social life, and Bucky was going to see that tonight. You couldn’t remember doing something out of pure spite before, but you figured having fun to prove a point wasn’t the worst thing. 

Wanda pulled you out of your thoughts as the Uber rounded the last dark corner and revealed an overcrowded house with too many lights on. She rambled on about some guy she couldn’t wait to see and confirmed that she would likely be spending the night. You expected as much; it hadn’t taken much convincing to get her to come. If this night resulted in anything good it was apparently the blossoming relationship between your new friend and a man you’d never met. 

Wanda continued to chat as she yanked you out of the car and past the yard littered with sparse grass. The music was loud already—the type of loud that you needed to be at least a little drunk to enjoy. And that was the plan. 

“Okay, if I start dancing on a table you pull me down. And if you start dancing on a table I support you, right?” Wanda giggled, her voice now raised as you walked past the threshold of the house. 

“Exactly,” you yelled back. A guy nodded to you as he leaned against the front door, his eyes glancing up from his phone and then returning. It seemed Bucky’s ‘list’ was a page on some guy’s notes app. How luxurious. “Let’s drink.” 

The next hour was a blur. You tried your hardest to get as drunk as possible and Wanda tried her hardest to find the British man she was enamored with. You hadn’t seen Bucky, but you figured he wasn’t looking for you too hard since you hadn’t responded to any of his texts. Not out of anger, but because you didn’t know what to say. Somehow, with alcohol warming your blood and music vibrating your skin, none of that mattered anymore. 

You: Your house is soooo dirty

Your phone jostled in your grip, people bumping into you from every side. When he didn’t answer in the thirty seconds you spent staring at the screen, you locked it and continued on with your mission. 

After a few too many shots of hard liquor, you switched to beer. Gross, but decidedly less likely to make you pass out on the staircase of this house. Because you weren’t lying in your text—it was slightly disgusting. You figured you should clarify that with Bucky. You reached for your phone once again, knocking your head against the wall in the process and giggling to yourself. You had no idea where Wanda went. 

The device was snatched from your hands just as quickly as the screen had lit up your face. 

“You ever answer this thing?” an accusing voice called out. “Or do you just insult people and put it on do not disturb?” 

The look on Bucky’s face would have made you roll your eyes in any other circumstance. Right now, however, it had a startled laugh bursting past your lips. You clutched at your stomach as the laugh grew and you found yourself tipping forward until your forehead met his chest. You felt delirious, almost silly. A hand came around to rest on the back of your neck.

“Alright, alright.” Bucky’s words rumbled against your face. “I get it, this is hilarious.” 

“Your… your face,” you breathed out, catching your breath enough to part from him. “It was all—” you mimicked the straight line of his eyebrows, voice raising in a mocking tone. “—You don’t ever answer your phone. You’re so boring, y/n, answer your phone.” 

“I didn’t call you boring. Hey—hey,” Bucky stressed, reaching for you as you leaned too far to the side, a smile still lingering on your face. “Jesus, y/n, how much did you have to drink?” 

You went to mock him again, but his fingers on your jaw stopped you. He tilted your head up and to the left, and although he was much more composed than you were, you could still smell the alcohol on his breath. You scrunched up your nose as he continued his inspection. 

“Why’re you being so uptight?” you slurred, trying and failing to push away from him. “I thought you were all like, ‘I’m Bucky and I party and get drunk and have sex with girls.’”

Bucky pulled you forward as you laughed at your impression of him, his shaking head making you blink away a bout of dizziness. You toppled over a set of stairs as he threaded his fingers through yours, and then you stumbled through a doorway and onto carpeted floors. Being pressed into an uncomfortable chair was the most jarring action, the world still spinning as you sat. 

“You’re even more mean when you're drunk,” you heard Bucky mumble. You couldn’t quite catch him as he moved around whatever room you were in. “And I don’t talk like that.” 

You let out a careless sigh and leaned back. “You soooo talk like that.” 

Something cold pressed to your hand, followed by another touch to the back of your neck. You gazed down at the water bottle being guided up to your lips and couldn’t find it in you to fight against it, despite the small spark of defiance on the tip of your tongue. After about four large swallows, Bucky was satisfied. 

He asked again how much you’d had to drink. 

You answered that you didn’t know—that it didn’t matter because he wasn’t your dad and you were having fun like you always did. He bit the inside of his cheek and didn’t say anything for the next few moments. 

And then, “Thought you weren’t gonna come tonight.” 

You hummed, rolling your head against the chair to look up at his standing form. “Of course I was going to come. I love parties. Love drinking alcohol.” 

His expression twisted into something you couldn’t recognize. “God, you’re so drunk.” 

“M’not even that drunk!” 

“You’re willingly in my room right now. You’re plastered.” 

“Maybe I want to be in your room.” 

“We both know that’s not true.” 

You chuckled breathily, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to see the pretty flush of Bucky’s face. “You think you know everything, don’t you? Don’t know much about me though. Or biology.” 

Bucky kneeled down to the height of the chair. “And what do I not know about you?” 

“So much.” 

“How much?” 

You bit into your lip and cracked an eye open, catching the amusement that had slipped past the strange mask of his emotions. With blissful ignorance, you heaved yourself forward on the chair, your nose a few inches from Bucky’s. His eyes didn’t waver from yours as you swayed. 

“You don’t know that I’m the most interesting person on Earth,” you boasted, fingers gripping the upholstery of your seat. 

“That right?” Bucky probed, his voice a melodic hum. 

“Yup, I’m always really busy and even though you think I’m some boring biology tutor I’m actually super cool and, like, go to raves and stuff.” 

His brow twitched but his mouth stayed soft. “I’ve never said you were boring. And I don’t think you’ve ever been to a rave.” 

You groaned loudly and flopped against the backrest of the chair. “See! I’m telling you I do all this cool stuff and I’m so drunk my fingers are buzzing and you still don’t believe me.” 

You crossed your arms with a huff, a small pout forming on your lips. In any other context, this behavior would probably embarrass you to no end. In the dim light of Bucky’s room where you felt the feeling leave your fingers and the care leave your mind, you were just disgruntled, not embarrassed. If you remembered this tomorrow the latter would surely catch up to you.

Bucky stared at you from his spot on the ground, his gaze a bit foggy and unfocused. He was clearly intoxicated, as you deduced earlier, and it made him look more wild. Mused hair and pink cheeks, he looked like he’d been having plenty of fun before he found you. It was distracting. He was distracting you from proving that you were having a blast.

“What?” you snapped, the tone a testament to the drunken fit you were throwing. 

“You’re so fucking pretty.” 

He must be really, really drunk. Despite your clouded mind, you knew that, but the words affected you just the same. Your lips parted as a new lightness both lit up and compressed your chest, and Bucky watched the movement. 

“Yeah,” you scoffed, but it was hardly a scoff. “Sure, Bucky. How much did you have to drink—” 

“I’m not lying. I’ve thought about you in my room for weeks and now you’re here and you’re so pretty. Even when you’re yelling at me.” 

“You’ve… thought about me in your room?” 

Bucky shuffled forward and you subconsciously parted your legs to allow the space for him. “I think about you everywhere.” 

This was crazy. It was certifiably insane. A voice in the back of your head—Natasha’s voice, it sounded like—was screaming at you to stop and think about the situation at hand. He was drunk, you were even more drunk, and he was far too close to you. He had ushered you in here with good intentions and had sobered you up a fraction, but things had taken a turn and this was a sensitive situation. The kind of sensitive that altered your reality and his and probably a bunch of other people’s you’d never met. 

Or it could be nothing and you were over exaggerating. 

But then Bucky’s hand was warming your thigh. You’d felt the press of it on your back and your shoulder and your head before, but it had never been on your thigh. It felt heavy there, hot. His other hand moved to touch your face and he propped himself up on one knee. His thumb brushed your cheek. Words tumbled from your mouth before you registered that you were speaking. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” 

Why would you ask that? Who asks Bucky Barnes if he’s going to kiss them? 

“Would you let me?” he responds. 

“Yes.” 

He didn’t waste any time, his mouth hot against yours. He tasted like mint and vodka and his lips moved so slowly it ached. You had expected a fervor behind his lips, but instead you got a build up, an orchestra reaching its crescendo. He was kissing you like you were important, like this wasn’t some random hookup in his bedroom at 1 o’clock in the morning, and you had to catch your breath when he parted from you. 

But he moved back in so quickly after your brief respite, and you were eager to give him more. This was crazy, insane. This was the best kiss you’d ever have and also the worst. This was months of staring at his stupid lips when he tried explaining concepts back to you, but this was also weeks of feeling small in his presence. Bucky slid his hand back to press against your hair and you didn’t feel small anymore. 

A loud thud from the hallway interrupted the silence you’d created, and Bucky pulled back, keeping his hands on you as he craned his neck around to stare at the door. He waited a beat, and then two, and then he turned back to you. The moment was gone, but he was still touching you. You weren’t sure what you wanted—if you wanted him to kiss you again or run out the door—but when he slid his hands from your body and rubbed them down his jeans, it became clear that was not what you wanted. 

A knot formed in your stomach when he met your gaze again, and you tried blinking the feeling away. It didn’t work. 

“Um,” Bucky began, his voice sounding more clear, his tone not holding the weight it had.

Your plan had backfired. Severely. This was a mess and you needed to save yourself before you ended this night even more humiliated.

You were still drunk. Pretend you were still plastered. 

You giggled airily, the sound burning your throat. “That was loud.” 

Bucky blinked at you in what you assumed was disbelief. “Probably just someone trying to find the bathroom,” he clarified.

You shrugged, nudging him back with your knee as you stood from the chair. “I’m bored now.” You took fast steps to the door, your words foreign to you. “Thanks for the water,” you all but gritted out. 

You expected him to get up. Not to run after you or proclaim his love or even say anything. But you expected him to get up. 

He didn’t, and you couldn’t understand how the knot in your stomach had moved to your throat. Or how it made tears spring to your eyes when your feet hit the sidewalk outside. Your Uber came and you couldn’t understand how you felt hot and cold at the same time. How it was freezing outside but you were sweating. 

You couldn’t understand why you were crying over a boy that so often infuriated you, or why he kissed you in his bedroom. The reasonable side of you sent gentle reminders that he was in a frat and kissing people is just what he did. All the time. But the unreasonable side of you won out tonight, and it was telling you that this felt different.

That you should be different, somehow.

~~

Bucky: You’re here???

Bucky: Where are you?

Bucky: Y/n answer your damn phone

Bucky: This place is fucking packed tonight I thought you weren’t coming 

You stared at the text messages you hadn’t read last night, the bright light of your phone burning into your retinas. You had a brutal hangover, and the memory of the disaster in Bucky’s room felt like an even bigger one. 

You’d gone through a myriad of emotions the night before, tossing around excuses and speeches in your head until you were so exhausted you let the alcohol in your system lull you to sleep. With all of that delirious thinking, you’d landed on blacking out. You were going to tell Bucky you blacked out last night and couldn’t remember a thing. He obviously wouldn’t care and would probably appreciate it. 

Saturday was slow-moving. Reruns of television shows and bags of popcorn and overthinking. Natasha was at her parent’s house in the city, so you had no one to bounce your racing thoughts off of. You certainly weren’t going to text her about it. 

When the evening finally rolled around and your attempts at distracting yourself with mind-numbing movies failed, you checked your email. You always tried not to on the weekends, but doing anything else sounded much less appealing. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t get past the first one. 

From: University Peer Assistance Program 

Dear Y/n Y/l/n, 

This is an automated message from the campus peer assistance program. We thank you for your continued devotion to the betterment of students at this school. At this time, your tutoring placement with James Barnes has ended. We will search for a new placement to fill your current hours. 

Thank you, 

University Peer Assistance 

You blinked at the email, then blinked again. The breath left your chest and the muscles on your face twitched, but you were otherwise frozen.

This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To be free from the haughty frat boy that didn’t even listen to you when you tried to help him raise his grades. You wanted someone nice, someone that had the same goals as you and appreciated the color-coded notes you took for them. Bucky only tried to get a rise out of you. He sat too close and made fun of you and put you on lists you didn’t ask to be on. 

But he had kissed you. He had kissed you and then tutor-dumped you. 

You knew you weren’t his type, but were you really that bad? Was the kiss so terrible? 

Every inferiority complex you had developed exploded. You over-analyzed things that had already happened, things you had said. Not just at the party, but in the library, the coffee shops, the lecture halls. 

Was he really willing to risk his position in the frat just to avoid you? 

The strangle tickle of tears itched to be released from your eyes again, but you pressed it down. No, this wasn’t on you. He had kissed you. He had dragged you into his room and stumbled on pretty words. If he didn’t want you to tutor him anymore because of his stupid mistake, fine. 

His mistake. 

That word felt wrong. 

You tossed your phone on the couch with vigor. The clock above the television read out 10 pm, but that meant little to you as you slid on your shoes at the front door. You were wearing sweatpants and a jacket that was far too big on you, sadness and frustration and raw confusion propelling you down your apartment stairs. 

Ice cream would fix this. 

The only place open at this time was the gas station at the edge of campus. It wasn’t university affiliated and was usually overrun with belligerent greek life trying to buy alcohol, but the decision-making part of your brain was currently shut off. 

Ice cream, anger, probably watching tiktoks until your eyes were too heavy to keep open—those were the only things rattling in your head. 

You yanked open the gas station door after your short walk, the glass smudged and fogged from the cold night. The fluorescent lights aggravated the headache you’d been sporting all day and the floor made sticking noises with each step you took. To add insult to injury, there were only three cartons of ice cream left, and they weren’t even the good flavors. Grabbing the least offensive one, you made your way to the small line of people by the register. 

“Nice outfit.” 

Too enthralled by the disappointing ingredient list on the side of your ice cream, you had missed the tall man now looming at your shoulder. You whipped your head around with a start, taking a step back, smelling menthol and asphalt and nothing good. 

“Thanks,” you quietly replied. 

He waited until you turned back around to continue. “You go to school over here?” 

You kept your gaze forward. “Um, yeah.” 

“Nice. I graduated a few years back. Marketing.” 

“Cool,” you replied. What had compelled you to leave your phone on the couch? This night sucked. 

You found reprieve in the line moving, the employee calling you over to check out. As soon as you paid—a few dollar bills funneled out of your pocket with shaky hands—you booked it. Your ice cream burned in your palm but you didn’t care, feet carrying you out the door and into the dimly lit parking lot. You fisted your keys in your fingers; pointless, you knew, but a small comfort. 

The man’s voice returned with the chime of the bell over the gas station door. “Wait! Wait, I’m Beck. I own a business nearby.” 

You should have kept walking, but one of your fatal flaws was, apparently, people pleasing. You turned to him. He smiled at you but it made your stomach twist. 

“Oh, nice,” you responded, rocking back on your heels. 

“We should connect. Maybe go for coffee or something?” He took a step forward. You fought the urge to take one back. His beard was unkempt and he held a six pack in his white-knuckled grip. 

“Um, I don’t know. I’m pretty busy with finals coming up. Plus, I’m not really in the business field.” 

“Not for business then,” he smiled again, teeth dull in the streetlight. 

Just agree. If you agreed you could block him soon after and everything would be fine. 

You took too long to answer. He took the final step forward to arrive in your space and wrapped his fingers around your bicep. “C’mon, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything.” 

Frozen by fear, you let out a weak laugh. The pint in your hand was sticking to your skin now in a way that would be painful when you tried to let go of it later. Your breath rattled in your chest when you laughed again. 

“Sure, okay.” But he didn’t let go of your arm, instead sliding it down to the bone of your wrist. 

“What about now?” he posed. “You don’t look too busy. I can make you something at my place.” 

He was at least ten years older than you. You attempted to pull yourself from his grasp to no avail. Maybe reasoning would work. 

“My roommate's waiting for me,” you lied. “Could you let go? I sprained my wrist at the gym last week,” you lied again. 

He refused with a shake of his head. You took a panicked glance inside the gas station to your right. No one was looking. 

“Please let go of me.” 

The call of your name from the other side of the parking lot initially sent more unbearable fear down your spine. But then the owner of that voice registered in your brain, and although it had been the cause of your recent internal strife, you couldn't be more grateful to hear it. 

He said your name again, closer now and questioning. Bucky jogged up to the pair of you, saw your wrist and the man holding it hostage, and looked back up at you with confused, wild eyes. 

“You know this guy?” he asked, jutting his thumb out at Beck.

“No,” you whispered. The word was short but the syllable still trembled. 

Bucky didn’t look confused anymore. He looked pissed. “Wanna take your fucking hands off her?”

Beck was tall, but Bucky was taller. And angry. Beck released your wrist and raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa, man, no need for the theatrics. I’m guessing you’re here to stock up for a party? I used to be in Sigma Nu.” 

When Bucky’s silent glare failed to dampen, Beck continued with, “We were just planning a night at my place, right?” 

His nod in your direction made your breath catch. Bucky took his piercing gaze off of Beck and softened it as it fell on you. You wanted to respond, but words were gone. They were impossible. Your ice cream was melting. 

“Yeah, I think we’re done here,” Bucky scoffed, placing his arm around your shoulder. He guided you past the wall of a man, making sure to drive his shoulder into his chest as he went. Beck went to say more, to protest or whine, but Bucky shot him such a scathing look it almost made you wither. 

The smell of coconut and spices and a hint of whisky met your nose, and it was familiar. It was safe. You fumbled with the keys in your hands as your feet guided you wherever Bucky was going, and then you fumbled even more, soft jingling disrupting the softness of footfall. God, why wouldn’t you stop shaking? 

A hand fell atop yours, crunching the keys to a halt. You stared down at them, unsteady breath hitting the tanned fingers that served as your current anchor. 

“Look at me, y/n.” 

You couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything. 

“Sweetheart, eyes up. All you gotta do.” Bucky’s voice was as soft as it was last night. That was the only reason you were able to follow his request. “There she is,” he hummed. 

He removed his arm from your shoulders and shifted in front of you, placing his hand on your cheek. You ignored that it felt the same as it had last night. You ignored that you wanted it to feel the same for him, too. 

“You okay?” he asked, tilting his neck down to better see your face. His thumb brushed under your eye. “He hurt you?” 

You shook your head, whispering no, whispering that you were fine. 

Bucky nodded to himself, eyes tracking down to your toes and then back up again. He must have mistaken your shaking for coldness because the next thing he did was guide you into the car behind him. You didn’t know it was his.

He blasted the heat the second he got in. He had shuffled you into your seat with his hands before that, smoothed your hair down and closed the door after you were settled and not shaking as hard. The heat dried out your eyes. It distracted you enough to let words form. 

“Thank you,” you said. “He wouldn’t leave me alone. I didn’t bring my phone with me. I should’ve.” 

“Of course.” 

There was a beat of silence. The relief you had felt earlier had been muddled down to an awkward pit in your stomach, and you weren’t sure if Bucky felt it too or if he was still riding a testosterone-fueled adrenaline high. 

You wanted to go home now; this was uncomfortable and you had felt Bucky’s lips on yours less than twenty-four hours ago with no closure. He obviously didn’t want to be around you. This was probably a responsibility thing for him. 

“I can… I can walk home now. The guy left. I’m just a quarter mile away and you probably have to stock up or whatever.” 

He looked at you with a pinched expression. “I’m not letting you walk home after that. You kiddin’ me?” 

“I’ll be fine, really. I walk over here all the time.” 

“You get harassed all the time too?” 

“No…” 

“Exactly. So you’re not walking home.” 

“Bucky—” 

“Look I’m not gonna kiss you again, alright? So you don’t have to turn down a ride because of that.” 

Your ice cream was soup at this point. You let it roll into your lap as you clamped your mouth shut just to open it again. Bucky ran a rough hand through his hair before dropping it on the steering wheel, clutching at it with no place to go. 

“I’m not following,” you finally relented. 

A loud sigh released from his nose. “You don’t have to worry about me kissing you again. I just want to make sure you get home safe and then I’ll leave you alone.” 

“Worry about—you’re the one trying to avoid me,” you snapped, frozen fingers pointing to your chest. “You tutor-dumped me.”

“Tutor-dumped? How do you…” he trailed off. 

“I get an email when you make a change request, Bucky.” 

He stared at you for a moment, lips parted and unmoving. He clenched his jaw a moment later, a red tint adorning his cheeks. 

“Well, you—you—look, I know you don’t like me, y/n. You’ve made that clear,” he stuttered, words getting louder as he moved his hands around with each one. “But I like you. I like when you get mad at me and when you yell at me for not listening and when you get all embarrassed when I play with your hair. And I’ve been trying to get you to come to one of my parties since we started this whole thing, but every time I talk about them you seem to like me even less. 

“If I had known insulting you would get your attention, I woulda done that week one,” he exasperated. You sat up in your seat but he continued. “I didn’t mean any of that shit you thought I did. You’re not boring. And I didn’t mean to kiss you, but you looked—well, I already told you.” 

“So you don’t want me to be your tutor anymore because you like me?” You spoke slowly, each word careful. 

“No,” he sighed, frustrated. “I can’t be around you because I kissed you and you didn’t care. Because I’ll want to kiss you all the time and you didn’t even wanna kiss me once. I know we were drunk, I get that, but I’ve wanted that for a long time and I need to move on. It’s nothing against your… tutoring skills. If that’s what you’re worried about” 

“But you talk about hooking up with other girls all the time, Bucky. To me.” 

“You ever hear of lying?”

“Why would you—” 

“You really gonna make me live out all of my failures with you?” 

You’d read so many things wrong. Taken so many things the wrong way. You figured the email earlier was the final nail in the coffin, but this was something else entirely. This was Bucky, sitting next to you in his car looking distressed and frazzled with his hair six different directions, telling you that he’s been trying to get your attention since he met you. That you weren’t small or insignificant or boring. 

It was probably a terrible idea to follow through with your next thought. You’d probably get hurt in the long run. But you did it anyway. 

“I wanted you to kiss me.” Bucky’s head whipped towards you. You bit the inside of your cheek and said, “I want you to kiss me all the time.” 

He whispered your name. It sounded like the air had left every corner of his body. But he didn’t move, and you needed to rectify that. 

“You’re infuriating,” you began. Bucky cringed, but you needed to explain as he had. “You’re like the antithesis of everything I want out of college. You don’t care about classes. You’re always late. You talk too loud in the library.” 

You took a deep breath, fiddling with the loose thread of your pants. You couldn’t make eye contact with anything but the ground. 

“But then you know my coffee order when I’ve never told it to you. You save me from losers in parking lots and make sure I’m not drunk out of my mind at your obscene party. You make me feel… you make me feel stupid sometimes. And I thought it was because you’re everything I’m not, but I really think it’s because you’re everything I told myself I should stay away from. But I don’t want to.

“I wanted you to kiss me at that party and I want you to kiss me now.” 

“Then get over here. I’m not kissing you over some bullshit center console.” 

You twisted to follow his directions, gasping as his hands clasped around your waist to tug you into his lap. It wasn’t seamless—there was laughing and your head briefly connected with the roof of the car—but Bucky’s touch was everywhere, soothing the uncertainty and fear and slight headache. 

His forehead connected with yours when you felt secure in his arms. His fingers slid down from your waist over the material of your sweatpants and when he spoke next you felt the words on your own lips.

“You’re wearing sweatpants. You get so mad when I wear sweatpants.” 

You laughed. “I get mad because it usually means you just rolled out of bed, and you’re usually. late.” 

“I got a secret,” he whispered, nudging his nose against yours. “I’m never late. And I only wear those sweatpants around you. You get cute when you’re pissed at me.” 

“Well, I’m about to be really cute—”

He kissed you. You’d have plenty of time to argue later.

[knoxic]

Cycle of Greed

Azriel x reader | Lucien Vanserra x reader | p1 - p2 - p3 - p4 - p5

Summary: Reader and Lucien arrive at Day Court and go drinking. Azriel goes through some rough shit and gives Rhys and Cassian a new trauma.

wc: 6k

warnings: Alcohol, almost death experience, mentions of sex (?)

a/n: I wrote the Lucien scenes while drunk and sleepy, the next day when I went back to write I didn't remember half of it. It was a good surprise, I caught myself blushing at my own work.

After arriving at Day Court, Lucien took you to the inn where you'd be staying. Helion no doubt had a room ready for both of you, but Lucien didn't want to risk being stuck in his father's palace, not again. You understood his reasons, of course, the damage Beron had done to him was one Lucien would have to carry for the rest of his life.

The inn was cozy and entirely Day coded, embellished in white and gold. Your room was more of a flat, with a couple of bedrooms, a bathroom decorated with stained glass that reflected colorful lights, the kitchen was filled with white furniture, high arched windows allowed rays of sunlight to dance inside the living room, you could swear Lucien's skin seemed to glow with them.

Watching him in what was supposed to be one of his natural habitats was something special. Lucien had to learn how to fit into places that weren't ready to receive him in his true form, so he adapted. Although he still maintained some of his origins, the Autumn part of himself had mixed with Spring over the years, he kept some of the colors and habits, Day Court was only in his blood, hidden from everything and everyone, even himself for some time. While your wardrobe only contained Night Court clothes, Lucien had perfected his to fit into any court he had to visit.

Now adorned in white and gold, Lucien was breathtaking, striking male beauty only Helion radiated.

"When we get back, you should ask Feyre for a painting, it'll last longer." He didn't even lift his head to look at you. Your cheeks warmed, he caught you staring him up and down, but surely there was nothing wrong in admiring a friend right? Especially if said friend was Lucien, who deserved to be looked at with nothing but admiration and pride.

"Shut up." You rolled your eyes at him with no true irritation. Lucien barked out a laugh, throwing his head back, a smile curled on your lips at the sight.

"There's nothing wrong with looking," he turned his upper body back to face you, flashing you a smirk. "I even dare say I liked it."

"Gods, you're so full of yourself aren't you?!" you groaned, more at yourself for eyeing him like that. After over a century of pining over Azriel, admiring him, wanting only him, looking at another male felt weird.

You went back to your room, dropping on the bed and rethinking your decision to come. You didn't regret accompanying Lucien, but this close proximity suddenly felt strange, you shared an apartment with him for God's sake, why did you feel this way?

Being with Lucien never felt wrong before, but now it did. Because you were starting to see him as a male, not a friendly male, an insanely attractive male. When your body heated and a knot formed on your lower belly, you thought of Azriel. Not Lucien. Now you weren't sure who you'd think of when your hand drifted down your body, who you'd imagine between your legs when your eyes slipped close from pleasure.

Azriel had never left you unsatisfied, it always felt good to be with him, he knew what to do and you wouldn't deny that, and it was natural that you'd only find pleasure with him or yourself. But if he could want another female when he was still with you, then you wouldn't feel bad about wanting another male while being single.

"Did I make you uncomfortable?" Lucien asked quietly, you hadn't even heard the door opening. You lifted your head to peer at him, he kept his head down while leaning against the doorway. "It wasn't my intention."

"You didn't," your head dropped back, "I'm just thinking." It was true, but he just didn't need to know what you were thinking. Lucien hummed and you heard his steps coming closer, you had closed your eyes for a moment when his weight dropped on the bed, instead of laying on the space beside you, he opted for laying horizontally above you, being careful to not lay on your hair but still close enough.

"Of him?" You would've laughed at the situation if you weren't so mortified. You wondered if Lucien thought the same, if he felt attracted to other females after Elain.

"Can I ask you something?" As embarrassed as you were, knowing that he felt the same would make you feel better, and if he didn't, then you'd just pretend you never felt anything.

"I didn't know we had to ask for permission, Ace,"  he tried teasing but his voice was as tense as yours. "Of course you can." You took a moment to find the courage you needed.

"Do you– ugh," it was harder than you expected, Lucien wouldn't judge you but he'd definitely tease you for being horny, and maybe that wasn't exactly what you needed.

"Just ask it." You turned your head up slightly, he already looked down at you, seeing him look so vulnerable and open eased your worries. Lucien was your equal, no matter what, he'd stand by you and some silly lustful thoughts wouldn't push him away. Not after everything you went through together.

"Do you feel... Like, do you want–or think of other... females?" heat rose to your cheeks and ears, you averted your eyes from his but kept your head turned to the side, so you could see if he tried to hide a laugh.

"Yes." Your head snapped up, his face was as serious as you ever saw him, like it didn't bother him at all to admit it.

"Yes?!" You didn't mean to sound so shocked, you were just surprised by his lack of concern. If it didn't mean that big of a deal for him, who had a mate, then it wouldn't be for you either. "Like in a–"

"Sexual way? Yes, I think of another female." His eyes drifted away before he turned to look up, "It's easy not to think of Elain. She's my mate, and yet... I don't even feel attracted to her anymore." His mouth opened and closed, a sigh escaping him before he looked at you, his eyes pleading for something you couldn't place, "Would you think badly of me if I said she meant nothing?" You wouldn't, couldn't ever think badly of him. Elain never gave him a chance, he was completely allowed to do and think whatever he wanted now. At least he had tried.

"No," your hands twitched with the need to touch him, comfort him, "I understand." The relief in his eyes was clear, he needed reassurance.

Only a beat of a moment passed before you could stand being so far. Slowly you pushed yourself up, wiggling your head against his arm hoping he would understand what you wanted, fortunately he did, with an amused scoff Lucien lifted his arm, allowing you to push yourself higher and drop your head into his stomach. His arm dropped beside your body, his fingers brushed your own arm a couple times before he deemed it okay to rest his hand on it.

"Can I ask you something?" Hearing the same phrase you spoke to him before now really sounded weird.

"Since when do we ask for permission?" Lucien laughed, his stomach moved and your head bounced, you lifted yourself to glare at him for it and it only made him laugh harder. Before you knew it, a hot hand placed on your forehead pulled you back down, his arm dropping to your chest to hold you back from lifting again.

"Why did you ask me that?" His voice was gentle and warm, your cheeks burned at how fast your body filled with goosebumps, "Do you feel attracted to other males?" At your lack of response, his thumb caressed your cheek carefully. "It's okay if you do, it doesn't have to mean anything."

It doesn't have to mean anything.

There's something about Lucien that just soothes you, as weird as it feels to say it, his mainly nature allows you to be yourself, no hard shells. You didn't have to fight off males at bars because Lucien was there to do it for you. You didn't have to be the male. He radiated warmth and comfort.

"Come," he didn't give you a chance to respond to his latter question, the hand that wasn't on your chest gently lifted your head, "Let's go get drunk." For a brief moment his eyes settled on your body, before you could feel embarrassed under his gaze, Lucien spoke with a certain annoyance, "But it won't do with those clothes, honey."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "What's wrong with my clothes?" Even though your attire was rather simple, there wasn't anything particularly wrong or ugly about it.

"Funny, you never told me you had eye problems." The mocking smile on his face made you groan.

"Because I don't!" You yelled, sitting up so fast that your head spinned. Lucien blinked slowly, waiting for you to realize what was wrong, he only spoke when he noticed how lost you were.

"We're in Day Court, they're gonna kick us out of the bar if I take you out looking like this!" his hand gestured towards your dark clothes, "You're the perfect picture of a Night Court resident." Lucien stood up, snatching your hand and pulling you to your feet, you almost fell when he continued pulling you out of the room, towards the front door.

𓂃

When Azriel woke up for the second time, his chest hurt. A pressure he never felt before making it hard to breathe, his lungs burning as if he was drowning, the satin sheets scratched his sensitive skin. After he managed to fully open his eyes and look down at himself, he noticed red bumps on his arms and chest. When he tried to move, his whole body ached like he'd just fought the worst battle of his life. And the worst part was, he couldn't feel his wings.

In his half assed inspection, he noticed the dirty blonde hair sprawled across his sheets and he knew then that his shadows wouldn't help him. He tried to call for Elain, or anyone really, but he just ended up having a bad coughing fit. As he usually did when he couldn't or didn't want to speak, he called for Rhysand, hoping his brother would hear his desperate plea and help him.

'What's wrong?' his voice sounded annoyed but if Azrie wasn't so concerned, he'd notice how worried Rhysand actually sounded. 'Az? Answer me!'

When he woke for the third time, the room he was in wasn't his own, he recognized after a brief glance around that it was the infirmary.

"You're awake! Thank the mother..." The last part was uttered under his breath, Rhysand shot up to his feet, ruffling Azriel's hair with one hand and lightly patting his arm with the other. "I thought we'd lost you, brother."

Loud footsteps echoed through the hallway moments later, the door busted open and suddenly he was being pulled up, strong arms holding his body tightly.

"Idiot," sniffles and sobs muffled against his neck, "you scared me!" Cassian pulled back to look at him, wide and red eyes roaming over his face and body, taking in his features and wellbeing.

"What happened?" Azriel pulled back only to be taken by a different pair of arms, Rhysand nuzzled his head against his own, a shaky breath tickling his still sensitive skin.

"Madja said you had an allergic reaction, something you ate or drank or something overdosed..." Cassian spoke slowly, like the words felt weird on his tongue, "Azriel–" his breath got stuck in his throat, a choking sound filled the quiet room. Rhysand pulled back from the hug, violet eyes drifted between his two brothers, settling a while longer on Cassian. Azriel watched their silent interaction curiously.

"Az..." Rhysand called his attention, waiting for him to nod before continuing, "Your heart stopped beating."

𓂃

Shopping with Lucien was exactly how you expected. Trying on a bunch of different clothes only for him to roll his eyes and shake his head no, gesturing with a hand for you to get back inside the dressing room and try the next. You would've gotten annoyed at him if he didn't make up for his attitude.

"That's... By the Mother, Ace." He chuckled nervously, "Don't get me wrong! I mean—you're beautiful in any way, but in that... A Goddess would be outshined in your presence." You could swear the room had just turned a bit warmer and brighter at his words.

"Stop it–" you brushed him off.

"No, I mean it." That being the last dress you had to try on, Lucien got up from his seat, taking the basket with the clothes he'd approved and made his way towards you. His hand took yours gently, pulling you closer to himself, you were too busy trying to avert his gaze to notice the way he looked at you, the way he admired you. Trying to get your attention Lucien squeezed your hand, making you look up, for a moment you both just stared at each other, then he lifted your hand and made you turn slowly.

"Yeah, we're definitely taking this one." Lucien didn't give you time to be embarrassed, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you to the shoes section.

𓂃

"What?" His question was whispered under his breath, his sore throat made his voice rougher than it usually was.

"For a few minutes we–" Rhysand exhaled another shaky breath, "we lost you. You died." He waited for Azriel to show any reaction before caressing his mind with careful talons. Azriel allowed him with no more than just a blink.

"Az? Azriel!" Rhysand tried to shake him awake, feeling his brother's frigid skin made him recoil. "No..."

"Rhys? What's– Oh Gods, no, no, no!" Cassian pushed the High Lord aside, gathering Azriel in his arms and walking out in hurried steps. Being careful not to bang his wings, long legs or head against the door and walls.

He knew he hadn't checked Azriel's pulse or breathing, and refused to look down at his bare chest to know for sure, but he only had one thing in his mind at the moment, finding help. He would do anything to make sure his brother would live, but he knew he couldn't help him in this situation, and he also knew how Rhysand felt on death threatening occasions, so he went to the only other place that could give Azriel the type of help he needed.

Madja was always ready for anything, there was never a day or night where she wasn't able to help. Whatever it was, she always had the solution for it.

Until now.

"I am so sorry, High Lord!" she seemed as desperate as they were, "It seems his body is fighting something, he has symptoms of an allergy reaction, his organism reacted badly to something and is now trying to reject it. But I can't tell what and if I can't tell... then there's nothing I can do..." her eyes were filled with moisture, she couldn't meet anyone's gaze and wouldn't tear hers away from Azriel.

"We can't just sit here..." Cassian pondered, something came to his head and he glanced at Rhysand, noticing how he seemed to be on the verge of panic he stepped closer, "Brother, look at me! He's not going to die, you hear me?! Azriel's not going to die!" Cassian shook him, calling to him in his mind, showing him what he was thinking.

𓂃

Four drinks in and you couldn't take it anymore, it'd been so long since you've gotten drunk that you weren't sure if you knew how to handle alcohol, Lucien didn't seem like he'd stop any time soon. Now you realized how spoiled Rhysand had gotten you, unintentionally or not. You were used to his wine and the drinks at Rita's, which paled in comparison to what they had in Day. A little part of you that hadn't come out in so long, slowly slipped to the surface, new ideas about trying the rest of the unusual drinks or roaming the city trying a drink from each bar you could find filled your head.

"Didn't you like it? We can try another." Lucien tapped your arm with his fingers, bringing your attention to him.

"No, this one's fine," you took a sip of the coloured drink trying to make a point, grimacing as you did.

Lucien grinned, "Yeah? Then I'll get another–"

"No!" Your hand shot up to hold his arm when he moved to stand, his face told you you'd have to give him a good excuse if you wanted him to sit back down. You groaned and let go of him, your fingers lightly pushed the drink away. "It's not bad–Really! it isn't! It's just... I'm not used to drinks this strong." You muttered the last part, hoping he wouldn't catch.

"Sorry, what was that?" He leaned close, one of his hands cupping his ear. You rolled your eyes.

"I said, I'm not used to drinks this strong." Lucien cooed at you.

"Aw, baby! You could've told me!" the hand that cupped his ear fell to your back, gently patting and rubbing you, you waited for the moment he'd mock you, "I would've asked for a warm cup of milk–"

A loud smack echoed. Just in time for your hand to make contact with his arm, the talking and music quieted. A few faes turned to glance at you both, raised eyebrows and hushed whispers, your cheeks heated up at the embarrassment consuming you. Lucien threw his head back and barked out a laugh that had your head falling against the table with a tud, you wanted to cave a hole right there and bury yourself in it, only coming out centuries later when everyone had forgotten it, including yourself.

𓂃

"Thank you." Rhysand breathed out, after seeing some color return to Azriel's face he felt like he could properly breathe again, "Really, I'll be in debt with you for the rest of my life." Those were dangerous words for a High Lord like him, and still he pronounced them clearly, it was a promise.

"No need. You're my friend and I'm glad to help." Helion patted his arm and left after a brief nod in Cassian's direction, wanting to give them the privacy to be vulnerable. Cassian immediately took it, crossing the room and pulling Rhysand into a tight hug.

"He's okay, he's okay." He repeated. Rhys hummed against his neck in response.

Now that the worst part was over, that he was sure Azriel would live, the brutality of the situation hit him. Azriel almost died and Elain was behind it. He wondered if she knew what she did, if that was her intention from the beginning or if it was an accident. He wondered why. Even though he hated the idea, he thought she loved him, thought they loved each other, enough so that Azriel defied him. But this... this wasn't love. Her reasons to do it didn't matter.

Rhysand hated himself for failing his brother, but he hated her more. He wanted to go back to the House of Wind and make Elain pay, perhaps giving her the drug she had given Azriel and see what happened, a strong Illyrian male survived, with the right help, he wondered how a simple high fae would take it, alone.

While embraced in strong loving arms, Rhysand fantasized about the female who almost killed his brother, who threatened his family. Wild fantasies of her in extreme pain, deadly worry, agonizing her last breath filled his mind. He wondered if Azriel would want a turn with her, if he'd want to make her pay for almost ending his life, for taking away his choice, for destroying the life he'd built with you.

Ace. He had to tell you, even if you ended up ignoring him, even if it didn't change anything for you, you should know. But he had something to do first.

𓂃

Coming back to the inn felt like a dream. With merry eyes that place was heavenly. You didn't remember getting ready for bed but the oversized shirt you wore and lack of makeup on your face showed you had. After doing your morning routine, you left your room. You assumed Lucien was still asleep given that there weren't any sounds coming from the hallway, so with quiet steps you made your way to the kitchen, only to find the table already set.

You were too busy munching on a piece of bread to notice the presence behind you. Two fingers jabbing into your ribs and a weirdly attractive 'morning' uttered by your ear made you jump, the squeak the chair let out mixed with your yelp. When your heartbeat stopped deafening your ears, you heard Lucien howling.

"The bread!" He wheezed. You watched him with narrowed eyes but after understanding what he had said, you started searching for it. "Cei–" he tried to say something only to start laughing again.

"What?" You frantically searched for the bread and still there was no trace of it, glancing back at Lucien you noticed his finger pointing up. The piece of bread had stuck to the ceiling above your head, the splashes of jam started falling as you looked up. A weird wet sound and the smack of bread on the table had Lucien barking out laughter.

Someone knocking interrupted your silly moment, Lucien wiped the tears in his eyes and walked to the front door. The silence that followed was awkward, there was no sound after the door opened, no greetings. A few seconds later you got curious and decided to go see who it was, as you walked closer Lucien asked what was wrong, you would've waited fro the other person to speak if you hadn't caught a glimpse of black. As you fully turned the corner, violet eyes drifted to you.

There was something in him that just felt unsettling. Rhysand seemed disturbed, and you hoped it had nothing to do with you.

"I need to talk to you." His voice was quiet, worrying you even more. You nodded and Lucien invited him in, closing the door behind him.

"I'll be in my room if you need me." He walked away after a brief look at you.

You took Rhysand to the living room, pointing for him to sit before taking the other side of the couch. The High Lord leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, his fingers fidgeting.

"I don't know how to tell you this, so I'm going to show you," he hesitantly turned to face you, "if you allow me."

"Okay." Even if it had something to do with you, it was bad enough to make Rhysand nervous, and that wasn't good.

Images of the last three days filled your mind. Azriel's pale body limp and Cassian gathering him would haunt you forever. Seeing Rhysand's inner turmoil, Cassian fighting to stay composed for his brothers sake, the Archeron sisters yelling at each other, Mor and even Amren looking troubled, it was all too much for you. Minutes after the memories ended you still hadn't pronounced a word, there was not a single indication of what you were thinking or feeling.

"Helion helped heal him, Madja wasn't able to so we brought him here. We would've taken him to Dawn but given that it was a potion, we couldn't risk losing time only to be met with no solution, and since there's not a spell Helion doesn't know, it was a wise decision." With a glance in his direction, you noticed how he nodded absentmindedly, his voice quiet as if he was talking more to himself. "It was Cassian."

The thought of Cassian poisoning Azriel sounded horrifying and the most unrealistic thing ever, "What?!" It was a loud whisper, you would've yelled if your voice hadn't failed you, almost muted from shock.

"No! Gods, no! I'm sorry I made it sound like that, I meant that it was Cassian's idea to bring him here. He took over when I couldn't think straight..."

"Thank the Mother," you breathed out, relief overtaking you for a moment before another thought came to mind, "but, who was it?" you hesitated for a moment, Azriel couldn't have poisoned himself accidentally, and the thought of someone close to him doing that, was terrifying. If someone had the guts to harm The Spymaster of the Night Court, they were either out of their mind, or the most threatening person to enter that court in centuries.

"Elain." Your stomach dropped, that uncomfortable sensation of shock filled you, Elain!?

Out of everything your mind could have come up with, Elain harming Azriel wouldn't be one of them. Up until a few seconds ago you still thought they loved each other, thought she wanted him badly enough to push her mate aside, thought he wanted her badly enough to throw you away and go against his brother to be with her. She had him, how could she harm him like that? Why?

"When Azriel was stable, I went to interrogate her, to know exactly what her intention was." He started when he noticed you were lost in thought. "It was a love potion. She had been cultivating passionflower for months now, its tea is used to treat insomnia, anxiety and pain. but apparently it's also used on love potions. So every time she pretended to help him ease his anxiety and sleep better, she was also drugging him into being in love with her." You uttered some curse words under your breath, Rhysand nodded in agreement before continuing. "She was using the flower petals and concentrated syrup on the cakes and pastries she gave him, saying it was a new recipe or just a form of payment for his help. According to her, three nights ago Azriel started acting differently, she could see the way his behavior drifted from being obsessed and lustful to disgust and indifference, so she thought it'd be a good idea to triple the tea's dose. The thing is, Az already had a decent amount of it in his system, he just wasn't reacting to it, and after the triple dose... It made him relax and sleep as intended, but when he drifted off, his heartbeat slowed way more than normal and it only got worse. The soreness he was feeling from the past few days turned into extreme pain, the beating Cassian and I gave him, his wing... It all made him too sensitive, the bruises turned red and angry like closed wounds or rashes. He managed to wake up somehow," Rhysand gave a humorless laugh, "and he called me... when I found him..." he drifted off, for sure reliving the moment behind his closed eyelids.

"Rhys..." you tried to find what to say, but nothing came up, you couldn't think straight. Your lower lip trembled, your eye stinging with tears that you couldn't keep from falling. A hand rested over your shaky one, his body shifting closer to you, his other hand bringing you to lean on his chest, planting a kiss to the side of your head before resting his against you and letting his own tears fall.

"I know it's a lot to take in... it was for me too." He breathed shakily in and out. "I took care of her, Az is safe, no one will hurt him again. It's okay." He kept uttering words to comfort you both.

You didn't know what to think. Azriel hadn't chosen her, he didn't love her, didn't push you aside because he stopped loving or wanting you. It made sense now why he seemed so intrigued when you mentioned breaking up, why his change was so sudden, why you didn't recognize him. The Azriel you broke up with wasn't the same Azriel you had fallen in love with, and at the same time that it relieved a horrible weight off of your chest, it also laid another. Because even if it wasn't your fault, you hated yourself for not seeing it earlier, for leaving him and giving her the chance to have him, and more so for even for a brief moment, wanting Lucien.

"You couldn't have known." You immediately closed off your mind and pushed away from his chest, refusing to meet Rhysand's eyes. "I'm not judging you, I wouldn't ever do that. I hate myself too for not seeing it, I knew he was different but I was just so pissed that I didn't even consider... I'm sure that the Azriel we know wouldn't judge you either. And, can I tell you something?" His hands were still holding yours and rubbing your back.

"Yeah." You still refused to look at him, your cheeks tinged with shame, Rhysand lifted your chin, his face showed no signs of bad emotions anymore, and if you dared guess, it showed hope.

"First I want you to know I'm not prompting you to do anything, I just want you to acknowledge the truth, you don't have to do anything with it if you don't want to. Again, I'm not going to judge you." He waited until you understood and nodded before speaking. "Azriel never loved Elain. His heart belongs to you... his soul belongs to you."

You tilted your head in question, wondering why he looked at you so intrigued. Of course, hearing that Azriel never loved another from someone else's mouth comforted you, showed that you weren't so wrong in assuming.

"Sweetheart–" he opened his mouth to continue but closed quickly after, thinking for a moment before meeting your eyes with a newfound determination, "Elain only resorted to that because she knew she was losing time, she couldn't make him fall for her naturally, and she knew she wouldn't have the chance to do it if Azriel found out." Rhysand shook his head when he noticed you didn't have a clue of what he was saying, his talons caressed you mind wanting to show you. It was a moment you didn't remember, and wouldn't ever because it didn't and wouldn't happen.

Both you and Azriel babysitting Nyx, who was snuggled in your arms, giggling from your fingers tickling his sides. Azriel watched the scene with adoring eyes, his shadows danced at the sound of your laughter, floating around you. The baby's back was turned to him, and the sight of his wings and black hair gave Azriel an image of what could be his future. His baby, giggling and snuggling with you, their eyes a copy of yours, nose the perfect mixture of you both, pointy ears half hidden behind black hair. Your eyes met his from behind his nephew's head, the light in them and your face glowing with happiness told him you were thinking the same. The love he cultivated behind his ribs bloomed, he could swear his heart pulsed so hard you could see it moving even hidden behind his shirt.

He watched you gently place Nyx down, making sure he entertained himself with some toys before making your way towards him. Azriel met you halfway, as always, locking his arms behind you and pulling you into his chest, your bodies fit perfectly.

"Can you imagine it?" You spoke softly.

"Yeah, I can." You could basically hear his smile.

Azriel pulled back slightly, his hand coming up to your head to make you look at him. Your eyes met hazel ones, the molten gold in his eyes, mingled with green and brown, glowed. The swirls they made resembled his shadows, you could spend hours staring into his irises and still they would fascinate you. Azriel blinked, when your eyes met this time, there was gold in yours too, a small thread growing brighter and brighter, his heart ached, a pull constricted his breath and he hissed, when your brows furrowed and your eyes watered, he knew you felt the same.

The thread became bigger and you finally felt your souls connected, Azriel's happiness was overwhelming, the tears fell. His forehead rested on yours, he sniffled and chuckled a moment later, shaking his head in astonishment.

"It's you..." he smiled, pulling back and caressing your face, "I always knew it was you." He whipped your tears while his own fell freely down his cheeks, your hands cupped his face, bringing him down for a kiss.

The memory ended and your heart broke. Seeing Azriel so close like that again, and so full of love, that was the male you knew and loved, knowing that perhaps you'd never get to experience that moment with him, absolutely wrecked you. Your throat tightened trying to hold back your sobs, fat tears rolled down your face, wetting your and Rhysand's shirt. 

Azriel was your mate. It was you he was tied to. Not Elain, not Mor. You.

Your mind provided you with a thousand possibilities of how your life could have been, if only Elain hadn't interfered. Your heart ached for him, for you, for the family you could've built. You still wanted him, it was too soon for you to have stopped wanting, but it was also too early to tell what was the right thing to do. Perhaps such a thing didn't exist, you both have always walked a thin line between right and wrong.

What confused you most was also longing for Lucien. Right when you decided that it wasn't wrong to want him, this happened. How could you feel so much want, and for different people? 

So you cried. For everything and everyone. For all the possible futures you could've had, and for the ones you still could have. For hatred, for love, for the blankness inside you. For not knowing if what you felt for Lucien was only lust. For still loving Azriel, enough that whatever happened with Elain didn't matter anymore, it wasn't his fault anyway. And most importantly, you cried for yourself. For the pain inflicted upon you, for the rough path you always had to walk, for the weight of the world that you carried on your shoulders everyday.

Rhysand didn't move, his arms never strayed from your trembling body. He never tried to stop your tears, he knew you had to get the pain out someway. He whispered gentle words right by your ear, everything he knew would help ease your worries and pain.

The tears stopped after a few minutes, Rhys didn't let go immediately, letting you make the first move and pull away first. After that you spent a little while thinking through your options, taking a moment to decide what you wanted. 

“Do you think–” you glanced at him to see his expression, “do you think he'll want to see me?” 

“What?!” Rhysand scoffed, “Sweetheart, of course he'll want to see you.” 

This trip was supposed to be relaxing, a time for you to not think of everything that happened. Lucien has asked you to come with him, to be there for him. You knew that he'd be okay with you going to see Azriel, because that's just the way he was, he would put himself aside to make sure his friends were happy, nevermind that his own happiness was just as important.

If someone deserves happiness, a happy ending, it's him. Lucien overworked so he wouldn't notice how alone he was, he used to avoid going home before you went to live with him. You both had become so much closer in the past few days, taking care of each other, having more fun than you've had in years. 

You weighed your options, you could stay with him and continue with your original plans, you could go see Azriel out of respect for the time you spent together and worry for the male you loved, you could just send a letter, and you could go back to him, because none of what happened was his fault.

“I need some time to think.”

Taglist: @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @meritxellao @cleverzonkwombatsludge @paintedbyshadows @mp-littlebit @rcarbo1 @that-one-little-soybean @scatteredstardustt @littlepippilongstocking @lorosette @minnieoo @hailqueenconquer @azriels-shadowsinger @blessthepizzaman @chelsiemp @saltedcoffeescotch @thestartitaness @historygeekqueen @sillyfreakfanparty @entr4p3 @warmdragonfly @clementine111002 @azriel-shadowsingerr @amiime @anuttellaa @loulou0101 @acourtofbatboydreams @xmalfoyweasleyx @anna-reader-blog @melmo567 @buttermilktea11 @helo1281917 @thelov3lybookworm @cazrielsfairygf @hanatsuki-hime @st4r-girl-official @feiwelinchen @fhgsvbnh

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Ghost King uses Uno Reverse Card

Ghosts are not a race of evil creatures that most people think they are. And Danny was really happy when the Infinite Realms were able to make peace treaties with most countries of the human world. Ghosts, however, are a very vindictive race. At least that’s how young Phantom explained himself to Batman afterwards.

It just so happens that a couple of hours before the event aimed at expanding intergalactic unions most of the JLeague members due to an emergency call went on a mission. Which means people who had any authority in Phantom’s eyes became unavailable for a while.

So Shazam and Phantom as the most known outside the Earth were assigned to greet the guests and most importantly to entertain the visitors until the founders of JL return.

According to Phantom, Batman, being such a good detective with a bunch of backup plans, should have known that Danny’s favorite cereal ran out this morning, that he was late for first class, and that after school he had a fight with his parents. No, seriously, aren’t so-called scientists supposed to be able to admit mistakes in their own judgment? Danny got tired of being constantly ashamed of their behavior near other ghosts. It's bad enough that his authority as a ruler is sustained only by the support of those Ancients with whom he maintains friendly relations. Average citizens still doubt that he is a is sufficient to claim the throne. He’s had enough of being accused of not being a full-fledged ghost.  He’s not ready to hear rumors that he supports his parents' racist judgments too. In short, his day sucked. And all his ghostly nature now wanted to do something nasty to his neighbors to get rid of the tension.

Alien leader stretched out a hand to Phantom and Shazam. “Your Majesty Phantom, Champion of Magic. It’s an honor to meet you. I hope I learned the proper greeting gesture of the local intelligent race.”

And with that Danny’s reserve of conscience ran out. It’s a perfect moment to feed his need to be a little shit.

“The local intelligent race?’ Danny had this extreme bewilderment on his face. “Which one do you think..? Earth was the home of the Gods and of various inhabitants of the galaxy but it was a long time ago.”

Woman is clearly confused. Great. “E-Earthers. I think they’re called that.”

“Earthlings, intelligent race? You must be mistaken.” Danny faked a giggle. “Who told you that crap?”

“Phantom, what are you doing?” Batman hissed at him from an earpiece. Danny turned the sound off with a clear conscience. “I mean, seriously, there’s not a single serious study in the science library in this galaxy or any other galaxy that says humans are intelligent. Shazam, do you think they’re..?”

For some reason, Billy immediately remembered watching a man spend his entire salary on lottery tickets last week. And of course he was careless enough to shake his head and snort. That was all Phantom needed.

“Exactly. Earthlings don’t have to be intelligent to mimic the behavior of more evolved species. Surely you are well aware that Martians and Kryptonians, and many others have visited Earth at different stages of human development. My supervisor Clockwork and I have long been observing this strange species. In many ways, their behavior resembles a mixture of instinctive reactions of specimens from the 126 sectors of the nearest SBc Galaxy and several other creatures from planets of the galaxy KV59. However, even I, as an anthropologist with extensive experience of observing human species in their natural habitat, still have to explore and discover many of their secrets.”

“I do not understand. According to the documents among the delegation that greets us there are Earthlings. I mean I don’t question the scientific evidence of a respected Chronos or you, but why then..”

“Of course you don’t! It’s really quite simple. For the purity of the clinical experiment, which we are conducting now, it is necessary that Earthlings feel themselves ostensibly full participants of the «society» consisting of members with developed intelligence.”

“So, any luck, colleague?” Shazam, who realized that Batman would now skin them anyway, decided to at least participate in this theater so that the punishment would be at least deserved.

“Well, we’ve certainly come up with some interesting preliminary insights about the adaptive capacity of the human brain in limited contact with Martians. Of course, humans do not have real emotions to be full participants in communication, but their attempts and zeal are very inspiring.”

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Fentons watching a live broadcast of what was supposed to be an interplanetary friendship encounter are beginning to realize that if trying to punish a rebellious human teenager has always been difficult for them, the attempt to control the behavior of the 14 y/o half-ghost may become a nightmare not only for them.

Jack: Honey, I think Danny’s still a little upset about our old theories about the ability of ghosts to feel or think.

Jazz, sitting between them with the face of a man resigned to the chaos around her, could not restrain the sarcasm: Really? Why would you think that?

[exhaled-spirals]

« To mention the global loss of biodiversity, that is to say, the disappearance of life on our planet, as one of our problems, along with air pollution or ocean acidification, is absurd—like a doctor listing the death of his patient as one symptom among others.

The ecological catastrophe cannot be reduced to the climate crisis. We must think about the disappearance of life in a global way. About two-thirds of insects, wild mammals and trees disappeared in a few years, a few decades and a few millennia, respectively. This mass extinction is not mainly caused by rising temperatures, but by the devastation of natural habitats.

Suppose we managed to invent clean and unlimited energy. This technological feat would be feted by the vast majority of scientists, synonymous in their eyes with a drastic reduction in CO2 emissions. In my opinion, it would lead to an even worse disaster. I am deeply convinced that, given the current state of our appetites and values, this energy would be used to intensify our gigantic project of systemic destruction of planetary life. Isn't that what we've set out to do—replace forests with supermarket parking lots, turn the planet into a landfill? What if, to cap it all, energy was free?

[...C]limate change has emerged as our most important ecological battle [...] because it is one that can perpetuate the delusional idea that we are faced with an engineering problem, in need of technological solutions. At the heart of current political and economic thought lies the idea that an ideal world would be a world in which we could continue to live in the same way, with fewer negative externalities. This is insane on several levels. Firstly because it is impossible. We can't have infinite growth in a finite world. We won't. But also, and more importantly, it is not desirable. Even if it were sustainable, the reality we construct is hell. [...]

It is often said that our Western world is desacralised. In reality, our civilisation treats the technosphere with almost devout reverence. And that's worse. We perceive the totality of reality through the prism of a hegemonic science, convinced that it “says” the only truth.

The problem is that technology is based on a very strange principle, so deeply ingrained in us that it remains unexpressed: no brakes are acceptable, what can be done must be done. We don't even bother to seriously and collectively debate the advisability of such "advances". We are under a spell. And we are avoiding the essential question: is this world in the making, standardised and computed, overbuilt and predictable, stripped of stars and birds, desirable?

To confine science to the search for "solutions" so we can continue down the same path is to lack both imagination and ambition. Because the “problem” we face doesn't seem to me, at this point, to be understood. No hope is possible if we don't start by questioning our assumptions, our values, our appetites, our symbols... [...] Let's stop pretending that the numerous and diverse human societies that have populated this planet did not exist. Certainly, some of them have taken the wrong route. But ours is the first to forge ahead towards guaranteed failure. »

— Aurélien Barrau, particle physicist and philosopher, in an interview in Télérama about his book L'Hypothèse K

[headspace-hotel]

There's a plentiful supply of nature and ecology writers that criticize "Anthropocentrism" and tell readers that we shouldn't consider ourselves more important than other life forms, and then they write things that are like "We evolved to live in Nature in a Natural environment...Long ago humans lived as hunter-gatherers instead of farming and domesticating animals...But when civilization was created, man unnaturally subjugated and modified plants and animals...Bringing them under human control for his own benefit...Man replaces natural ecosystems with artificially created "post-natural" environments...Now humans live in an unnatural environment that is separated from Nature...and i'm like buddy. do you even hear yourself

Since I have access to a bigger library now, I've explored "deep ecology" and "green anarchism" and "Biocentrism" a bit more and what i've seen is still kinda silly. The writers have very thoughtful theory and philosophy of diverse subjects relating to morality, society, power, and liberation, but...they just don't know very much about Nature.

I mean several things by that: first, they're not clear on the boring, practical details of things like food systems and the way construction alters ecosystems, second, they don't try to clearly define what "nature" is, and third, they act like "nature" has a clear definition anyway.

Now nature is pretty much undefinable anyway, a couple possible definitions are "all things that exist, have existed, or are possible in the universe" and "the thing that a forest has that a parking lot doesn't." You can say "biodiversity," but every space has biodiversity, and it's not clear how much biodiversity a space is "supposed" to have, we're just going on vibes. And the vibes are right, in a way; I visited an old-growth forest and it was DIFFERENT than any place i'd ever been in a way that is hard to describe. A flourishing, biodiverse ecosystem is different than a parking lot, a lawn, a monoculture field of corn. They say it's good for your health to be "in nature." What does that mean? At what point does a place become "nature?" How many trees does it have to have?

Something that is so painful to me is when people write "Human activities" as a cause of biodiversity loss. This is an act of cowardice. WHICH human activities? Name them.

A lot of nature and ecology writings treat humans like they have an anti-biodiversity force field that emanates from them. They write like lands on Earth are each contested between two inversely proportional forces, "Nature" and "Humans."

Without any more information, this is ethereal bullshit on par with crystals having energies. I am totally perplexed at the lack of curiosity about the specific causes and details of "human impacts." The division of habitats by so many roads and relentless speeding of cars with no way for wildlife to cross...the dumping of massive amounts of poison into soils and water...the wounding and disturbance of topsoil...these are the "human activities," but we can imagine a world without such destruction, and we can create that world.

Too many essays and papers talking about Nature non-specifically, an Idea of Nature, a Concept that everyone just intuitively knows. Nature is...you know...wildness! and trees! and...well, you know, NATURE!

And we do know! When we step out into the parking lot surrounded by low, squarish buildings and blaring signs and the stink of car exhaust, we know that something is very wrong with this place! Even we find these horrible un-places harsh and unwelcoming.

But it is very hard to imagine something different, because the other type of place, the place that is beautiful and soothes the spirit and is full of life, is by definition the place where humans only go to visit, the complete opposite and inverse of a place where humans work and live! Wherever humans live, shop, eat, fulfill their daily needs, that place is Not Nature.

The huge mistake, is that we believe that it is necessary to have places that are Not Nature. We believe that for humans to exist, areas must be set aside where the very concept of Nature is utterly obliterated.

From this imaginary and dismal point of view, we have to carefully confine our own lives to places that are utterly poisoned, sterilized, made into a hostile wasteland, and leave all the rest of the living biosphere to itself in pristine preserves.

And in this imaginary and dismal point of view, the one that divides Earth into Nature and Humans, it is okay to poison and to sterilize and to destroy, because humans must live SOMEWHERE, therefore Nature must be utterly excluded from at least SOME of Earth.

BUT...WHAT IF EVERYWHERE IS NATURE? What if the dandelions in the cracks of the pavement, the lichens growing on the park bench, the wildflowers on the side of the road, the sparrows in the parking lot—what if they are all Nature just as much as anything else? What if they too are sacred? What if it is our responsibility to see the connectedness of all life and to care for all ecosystems, however broken and hurt they may be?

What if Nature is not distant and abstract, untouched in some pristine place, but always reaching out, digging into the crumbled concrete and gravel and compacted ground, clawing to return to us and bring us back home?

It does not take away from the value of the old-growth forest or the unplowed prairie if we open our eyes and see even the scraggliest patch of overgrown weeds for the powerful manifestation of Nature it truly is.

Nature is not a place or a thing. Nature is the Movement, the Endless Happening, constantly alive throughout all life, the way of all things being family, the way of all things taking care of each other, the way of all life being constantly transformed through one another. You breathe the breath of the trees of your home, you drink the water of the streams of your home, you eat the sunlight that falls on your home, grown in the soil where all things go to be transformed through death into a new form of life, fed by the mycorrhizal network, pollinated by the bees, wasps, flies, and moths, nourished by the bone, blood and manure of beasts, and ultimately the fertile river valleys where agriculture first began, were replenished by the rich silt that washed down the river, which came from the forests in the mountains that shed their leaves to make a feast for a million decomposing critters, which is how the rich soil is made.

In this way they all take care of you, and in return you are asked to Live—to take care of them in return, to live as part of the great family of everything alive, to live, to live

What are human activities...? Deforestation? Mining? Spraying pesticides? Building housing developments? But is that all? Are we inherently a "bad" and "destructive" species, or is our ability to acquire and pass down knowledge, use tools and novel behaviors, alter our surroundings, shape ecosystems, adapt our lifestyles almost infinitely, and persist in almost any environment, simply incredibly powerful for good or for evil?

First of all, what better way to demonstrate a contrast to anthropocentrism...than to compare the impact of humans alone to the impact of an ENTIRE KINGDOM OF LIFE, the fungi????? Of course all of Fungi are more important than one single species??? Wtf?!?!?

But also, we should not convince ourselves of our own insignificance and worthlessness to the biosphere, because in the same way that individual self-loathing can be a way to avoid the hard work of loving oneself and advocating for the love one deserves, collective self-loathing as a species is a way of avoiding the responsibility we have to other life forms.

How can this author not think of a single role Humans play in the ecosystem?? What species plants trees, saves seeds, documents rare plants, rescues injured animals and heals them, raises orphaned chicks, manages controlled burns, digs ponds, thoughtfully harvests in anticipation of future seasons, mercifully culls in understanding of suffering that cannot be fixed? What species writes a new chapter in the genome of the American Chestnut so it can be saved from extinction? What species mends the broken kakapo egg with sticky tape? What species addresses their own habitat with that fondest name of Home?

[gallusrostromegalus]

Secret tunnels: who built them, and who uses them?

So there aren't "Secret" tunnels in the Seireitei.

There are "These are SUPPOSED to be secret tunnels to evacuate the nobles and central 46 in an emergency but you have a better chance of keeping a fart secret in an elevator than you do of any kind of construction project in Seireitei" tunnels.

There are "Well we definitely built this for a reason but it's been eight fucking centuries and fuck if anyone alive remembers what the hell it's for" tunnels.

There are even quite a few "this tunnel is a secret because it wasn't *built* by anyone, it's the by-product of centuries of dubious infrastructure and construction shortcuts and no small amount of subsidence. This is just a gap waiting to collapse, but sure. You can try your luck" tunnels.

---

If there was ever a Master of these Sort-of-Secret tunnels, it was the 5th captain of the 11th division, Tokagero Kenpachi.

Certainly, Unohana and the fourth division collectively are the lords of the undercity now, but Unohana is a busy woman with lots to do topside. So in 1438, she Very Generously allowed the 11th to maintain the sewers and underground infrastructure while she figured out vaccines.

Tokagero regarded this as very kind of Unohana, because Tokagero was a water monitor of gargantuan scale, and regarded the dark and twisting undercity as her natural habitat. Which it may well have been, because that's certainly a space where an already large lizard might be exposed to Kido Corps magical waste or other Suspect Substances and grow to be large enough to swallow the fourth Kenpachi whole and assume his title.

Tokagero and the 11th had many a fine hunt in the undercity, after hollows that had escaped from noble-backed Bloodsports, to fugitives, to other strange creatures of the urban abyss, including a worrisomely large koi fish that Tokagero decided to grant dominion over the undercity's waterways as one Supernatural Beast to another. There was some wagging of tongues that Tokagero was backing out of a fight with Daikoi, but that was quickly silences by Tokagero flicking her own tongue and reminding everyone that she never packed provisions for these trips.

One day however, Tokagero discovered something bizarre.

Ice.

She'd been on the hunt of an escaped war criminal when she found him in an odd corner of the sewers with a very large hole where his head used to be, as if shot with an incredibly powerful projectile.

Weird.

She thought she felt a crackle of reiatsu before, but this was unlike any Kido spells she knew, and her quarry was not the type to do himself in.

Weirder still was the frigid patch of ice smeared against part of the floor an wall beside him. This bastard had no proclivity for Kido and did not carry an ice-type weapon, so where had it come from?

---

"Youre back early." Jugram frowned at Lille Barro as he came in from the unusually intense blizzard outside castle silbern.

"Sewers 're haunted." Barro grunted, hefting his massive gun off his shoulder.

"Pardon?" Jugram blinked.

"Sewers 're haunted." Barro repeated, rolling his eye. "The sewers near the primary spy portals are PACKED with shinigami on the hunt for something- one of them nearly ran into me. So patrols will have to wait."

"Ah." Jugram nodded. "...coffee?" The second-in-cmand offered Barro, for lack of anything sensible to say.

"Hm?" Barro blinked, looking up from hanging up his strange hat. "Oh, yes. Please. Sorry, it's been a while since an enemy got that close and it's unnerved me. I keep feeling like I've forgotten something..."

"Just so long as you didn't leave the portal open." Jugram teased, confident in his commrade's competence.

[aphroditesmoon]

tide

clarisse la rue x poseidon's daughter

summary: clarisse and reader have been rivals since they first met, but when someone does a harmless prank ends up seriously hurting reader, she throws all thought aside to save her.

warnings: enemies to lovers ish, drowning, reader can't swim (ironic), cursing

wc: 3k

---

It's rare that any camper get to leave camp at all, and all of them getting to leave at the same time is even more suspicious.

But no one complained when they were offered a little vacation by the river for a day. Finally, a break from all the training and learning.

Unfortunate events usually follow along after good days, but as of this moment right now, you refused to think of the Gods' dirty games with each other and how you'd all eventually be used as pawns. Whatever hurricane coming after will be dealt with when it happens. But today isn't about them or any other war you'd be forced to fight in. Today is about the campers for once.

You lounged against a large rock in your dark blue swimsuit while the others played in the water, swinging themselves of the wooden bridge from a rope. Any animosity that ever existed between different cabins disappeared today. Everyone is one and the same, and everyone regards each other as family.

You dipped your toes shyly into the clear water as you leaned back on the rock with your eyes closed, bathing under the golden sun that lit your skin up like gold. The weather was as joyous as the people's exultation, There is a certain peacefulness that spreads in the air and it was nice.

The laughter and chattering provided a feeling of comfort that you find yourself lacking these days. Being a half-blood meant adapting to the uncomfortable and dangerous, and so these kind of days where you feel that you could just exist without a burdening expectation over your head is immensely appreciated.

Your sunbathing is interrupted when you feel a shadow looming over you, and drops of water falling onto your face. Opening your eyes, you're met with a dripping wet Luke Castellan grinning down at you. "Move, you dog." You squealed, wiping the wetness off of you. He shook his head violently, scattering more water over your body, making you scream out in annoyance. "I will kill you!" You declared loudly and shoved him with your feet, making him stop.

"What are you doing on dry land, daughter of Poseidon?" He asks, unaffected with your teasing threats.

"Don't last name me, and I'm sunbathing." You informed and shoved him to the side with your feet. "Sunbathing? You're supposed to be in the water, is that not your natural habitat?" You smiled despite yourself and shook your head.

"I'm perfectly fine up here, so you can continue having your fun down there." Luke nodded absent-mindedly. "Oh it's definitely fun, alright. Though on a random note, did you notice at all that a certain someone has been sending death glares in your direction?"

You frowned, "who-?" Luke interjects. "Don't look behind you-" too late, you turned around anyways. And lo behold, Clarisse La Rue's eyes met yours, and you have never seen her twist her head around as quickly as she did at the moment.

"Oh, her." You sighed. Luke gave you a curious look of curiously. "I never understood your rivalry, not even right now." You shrugged and closed your eyes back again.

"You can go ahead and ask her about it. She just can't stop finding issues with me, always in need of an argument." It's true, you thought.

Sure, there are plenty of moments where you fought first, wanting to get your lick back. But it was all in response to her hostility first. And even now, on a day where everyone ought to enjoy themselves, she would rather stare you down so intensely, ruining her own day.

You still remember the first time you realized that she hated you. It was after you were claimed, while everyone else was in a pleasant mood, mostly surprised. Her expression is one of annoyance. Because how dare anyone here shine brighter than her. You both were still so young at the time. But it only got worse over time.

She had thought that you'd subjugate yourself to her like some coward. But you stood your ground, a daughter of Poseidon would not cower from another half blood like a spineless creature.

And as much as she's a vengeful fighter, you could also see the glint of admiration growing in her gaze over time. She didn't want to admit it, but she had finally found someone her own size. You, of course, usually dealt with things as pragmatic as you could, but some bullies are begging to be bullied back.

It wasn't all bad though, sometimes it was even fun. Like two children being petty for the sake of pettiness.

"At least one of us is enjoying our day." You thought aloud. You didn't miss the scorned expression on Clarisse's face before she looked away. "Are you enjoying your day?" Luke asks, folding his arms together.

He always thought he was good at reading people. And maybe he was with some people, but you pride yourself in being unexpected. Sometimes you say things you don't mean and do things you wish you didn't have to just to get by. People only knew things about you that you wanted them to know. Let them in a few stories and they'll think they've successfully interpreted you.

And as much as you liked Luke, he is not an exception.

"Yes, I just told you I am." He hummed in question, making you open your eyes again. "You know it's not everyday we get to leave camp like this, and you're spending it on dry land? You can sunbathe anytime you like back there."

"Why are you so keen on getting me down there?" You inquired, amused. "Because there is no way you're getting me to get in there, I mean I just had hair wash day."

"Are you sure about that?" Before you could answer, he had bowed down and grabbed you by your waist, throwing you over his shoulder.

"Luke-" you shouted out, the sudden movement taking you by surprise. It was easy to understand what he was going to do when he began running towards the bridge. You felt your blood run cold.

"Don't throw me in! I swear to god Luke-" You yelled with all your heart, but the boy seemed to assume that you were joking as he laughed at your words.

"Off with the fishes you go!" He responded and swung you off of him and straight into the large body of water. You were sure that your scream probably reached Tartarus itself as it definitely exceeded your lung capacity. The last thing you remember screaming out was 'I'm going to kill you', but those words had died on your tongue in a speed as you fell deep into the river with a splash, causing everyone near you to run out in shock.

You could hear some laughing and clapping as you melted into the water, but it all started dissolving until all you could hear were gurgles and distorted noises. You felt yourself begin to struggle while you flapped your arms around, trying to stay afloat. You were sure that you were going to die when no magical breathing miracles saved you from suffocating and drowning.

You flapped your hands and feet harder, attempting to mimic swimmers, hoping that you'll somehow take up swimming naturally despite never learning to do so for your entire life. The irony of being a daughter of Poseidon that can't swim isn't lost on you, it is exactly why you never told anyone about it. If they knew, you'd be the joke of the camp.

A solid minute has surely pass before you gave up completely in ever swimming back up, now the doubt that you were ever Poseidon's child begins to creep in on your last moments of being alive. Because surely, even if you can't swim, your father could just magically pop you back up.

Unless he is just severely disappointed in your lack of ability and deems you fit to die instead of just humiliating him. And at this very moment, you honestly would agree with him.

Your last conscious thoughts are interrupted abruptly when you felt a strong push of ripple plunging into the river, you could barely open your eyes as you continued to sink in, but the sight of a recognizable face, diving straight your way, woke you back up from the dead.

You weren't sure how to feel as sharp and hollow pain began attacking your chest while you watched the brunette swim fiercely, her hair moving wildly like strong waves hitting shore.

Her right arm circles your waist as her left one slipped under your arm, urging you to grab onto her. And grab onto her you did.

She pulled you with her easily, her hold on you firm as she swam back up. Your head throbbed at the sudden fast movement, but once your head rises out of the water and you're able to breathe again, it slowly fades away, leaving you dizzy and grateful.

"There you are." Clarisse exhaled. She sounded relieved as she gathered you into an embrace, making sure you stay afloat. "Don't pass out, stay with me for just a little more."

I'm not passing out, you wanted to argue, even at this second. But the only thing that escaped your lips is a groan of agony. "Stupid fucking imbeciles." She cursed under her heavy breathing. You almost assumed it was targeted towards you until you noticed the plural nouns added in her sentence.

"I can't-" you started, "don't say anything." Clarisse interjected in a stern tone.

Your body was limp when you both finally reached land. Everyone moved away, letting you lie down against a large boulder. You felt Clarisse's hands slowly slip away from your skin, though she's still hovering over you with a worried gaze.

"Make way!" Chiron's voice thundered through the air. Clarisse turned a deaf ear at his command and stayed by your side, but for whatever reason, he didn’t reprimand her for it.

"Who's smart idea was it to toss your friend off into the river?" Chiron asks, scanning the confused and surprised crowd of people for any guilty faces.

Luke raises his hand, unafraid but apologetic. "I didn't know she can't swim." He stated honestly, and you hear some of the other campers agreeing with him.

Clarisse's eyes remained locked on yours. You wait for any sign of mockery to appear, a hint of condescending somewhere waiting to come out, but none appears.

You could hear Chiron sighing tiredly, "Well, no one did." And he's right, what Luke did was supposed to be a harmless joke. It is unexpected that you of all people would not know how to swim. Clarisse breaks her gaze from you as she turns towards Chiron. "They didn't have to know that she can't swim to be able to see that she was drowning." Clarisse snapped, her brows furrowed together. Before the situation could end up worse than it already has, you waved your arm up and yelped in pain. "I think I'm going to pass out." You lied.

"I can get her back to the tent back there." Clarisse offered, or stated moreso. Chiron granted her permission with argument, and with that the whole crowd dissolves back into the space the same way they were before, only some spared you some glances as Clarisse helped you walk slowly towards the small tent that's slightly further from the river.

The walk back was quiet, neither of you are brave enough to start a civil conversation. It was only after she had helped you sit criss crossed inside the tent and was ready to leave that you managed to insert a small thank you. She paused in her steps and slowly whirled around to face you. "I'm teaching you how to swim when we get back." She says as a response.

It was neither a threat or an offer. Taking your silence as an agreement, Clarisse nods her head once and walked off towards her siblings, leaving you distracted and deep in thought about what just

---

It was a paradoxical situation, and yet neither of you had it in yourselves to point it out.

Perhaps amiability towards Clarisse wasn't as difficult as you'd thought it would be. But your biggest concern wasn't regarding yourself, it regarded Clarisse and her own capability of remaining amiable towards you.

She was never one to practice self restraint. Everyone in the whole camp could vouch for that. And yet here she is, knee deep in the sea with her hands holding onto your wrists, ushering you in.

"You can't stay on the shallow level forever, you need to get in deeper." She repeated for the fourth time, frustration was visible on her face.

"No, I'm telling you I can't-" you argued. Clarisse sighed in annoyance, "I'm not going to let go!" She insisted. "Yes you will, I know this trick." You glared at her like an upset child.

Her anger almost diffused as you saw a hint of humor painting over her face, as if she's trying not to laugh in your face. "I'm not tricking you, I don't waste time on tricks. If I wanted to hurt you somehow I would've just shoved you in and left." She explained in a pleading tone.

"That's very reassuring." You responded sarcastically, trying to pull away from her, but her grip was strong. "Stop acting like a child." Clarisse chided.

Your eyes widened in offesne before you started pulling your arms harder to get her off of you. "Stop it!" Clarisse yelled out, her patience thinning. You said nothing and continued to drag your feet backwards, little movements were made as Clarisse was weighing you down like a log. "Let go of me." You demanded through gritted teeth.

Her face contorted in anger, and just as you began pulling again, she let go of you completely, "fine."

Unprepared for the push of gravity, your feet slipped against the mix of rock, seashells and water, making you fall on your back, squealing in panic. You flailed your arms around trying to balance yourself up, and just before your back would be plunged down, Clarisse scrambled to wrap her arms around your back, saving you from your fall.

"Oh my god." You gasped out, palms over her shoulders. "No god," she replied dryly. "Just me."

Relief enters your chest as your feet are flat against the ground again. But it was temporary, looking at her smug expression compelled you to act as stupid as you just did, shoving her off strongly, you didn't take into account that she was still holding you, and so as she crashed, you followed along on top.

"Oh my fucking god." Clarisse growled loudly spitting up water as you crawled off of her to stand up. "You did not just do that." Sitting up, she scowled and stared down at you, looking like an angry soggy kitten with her hair and face wet.

"Well, I did. What are you going to do about it?" You snarled, wiping water off of your face. "Hey, I am not a child throwing a tantrum like you." She snapped back.

"Oh, that would be a first time for you." You scoffed at her words and walked out on her.

"Where are you going?" You heard her call out. "Away from all this bullshit." You could hear her quickly running after you, water splashing loudly as she moved.

"Look, do you think I want to do this?"

You twisted your head around to meet her gaze. "Then don't!"

"Okay." She breathed out, shrugging like it didn't matter. "But it's clear right now, that everyone knows your weakness. And not even your own father has your back right now. I'm the only one who does."

The fire in you refused to die down, but her words reduced you to ashes. Your shoulders relaxed and you took her appearane in.

She's right, your whole life, everyone had given up on you, except for yourself. You taught yourself everything and you fought to survive daily from the horrors of being a forbidden child. And this one thing, which happens to be the worst weaknesses of all considering your position, is something you can't teach yourself to do. Hell, you couldn't even bring it up without feeling like shit.

But now it's all out in the open. The jokes might be bad, but what's worse is getting hunted down and killed in ease by monsters and gods who knew that you'd have no one to protect you, not even your dad.

"Why do you care?" You ask sincerely.

She was silent for a while, looking away immediately. Not embarrassed, just deep in thought.

"I don't know, maybe I just...I know what it's like. To feel helpless, to have to pick yourself back up. And normally I don't give two shits about what anyone else feels. But I know you, and you know me. And maybe-" She inhaled deeply and finally turned to face you.

"Maybe we can help each other."

You raised a brow, "and why would you need my help, you could, I don't know, take over the world if you wanted to."

She actually smiled at that, something you rarely see and hope you would do more of. "I know it's hard to believe, but I'm not perfect."

"So, what? Are we friends now?" You ask.

She shrugged her shoulders again, "Let's start with that, sure. Now, if you can get your ass back in here, I promise I won't drown you or anything, and you can actually learn how to swim like you should've years ago?"

You took a deep breath, wincing at the idea.

"It's not as hard as you think, I know it's terrifying to think of yourself in a position where you have no control." She attempts harder, stretching out her hands towards you.

"If I drown-" you started and was quickly cut off. "You won't. I got you."

If she had uttered this sentence to you about two days ago, you would've laughed because you couldn't imagine a situation where she would have your back. But today is a different day.

[writing-mlm]

Hii I just found your blog actually and I love your stories,and uh,per say if I were to request a spencer reid x m reader where reader is a famous author and composer and whenever the team meets him it's pure chaos,just fluff in general actually. you don't have to do this if you don't want to of course! - Moony (shh it's a nickname that stuck)

Don't Spoil the Ending

Summary: Meeting your boyfriend's friends is a natural step but what isn't is them harassing you because you keep killing their favorite characters Pairing: Spencer Reid x Male reader W.C: 3k a/n: PLEASE I KNOW THIS TOOK ACTUAL YEARS IM SORRY oh and the walking dead spoilers ig

Whenever Spencer had one of his spells, whether that be his migraines or moments where the world just feels too much. Too heavy, too big, too scary, he went to your house. Your house, his escape from everything. A quaint home he could see himself moving into. 

A lovely one-bedroom, two-story home tucked into a hidden part of the city. There’s a small garden in the back, hardly filled with vegetables and mainly flowers. The front lawn, when he had first seen it, was mowed down to the dirt and replaced with various native plants. It didn’t take long for it to get to its current state, a lovely amalgamation of plants and wildlife that thrived in the almost cottage-looking home. 

He eyed the official state-provided Certified Wildlife Habitat sign that hung just in front of the property and let his messenger bag slump from his shoulder. There was no need to keep up appearances, not when you open the door and wait for him with a cup in hand. His mug. His mug you’d gotten him from the flea market on your first date and had remained in your house since the tenth date where he had to rush out for a case and never picked it back up. 

“Should I cancel with your team?” You ask, voice soft as he takes the mug and nearly inhales the tea. He looks at you, confused and you know then and there the headache is bad. “Your team is supposed to come over for dinner today.” Blinking, he sets the mug down on the shoe rack and kicks his shoes off. 

“No,” He sighs, his internal debate lasting nearly two whole minutes. “A nap and the rest of the tea should be fine.” It wouldn’t, you both know that but the dinner has been rescheduled twice already. Once due to the flu that was making its rounds through the entire team and another because you had an emergency to attend to. 

“Okay,” You hum, locking the door. He eyes each of the three locks and finds your hand. “Do you want to hear a specific symphony?” 

“Do you have anything new?” He asks, letting you guide him up the old wooden stairs to your bedroom. 

“I do,” You nod. “I learned some music from Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“For inspiration for the DreamWorks movie?” Nodding, he sits with his back pressed to your headboard and the blankets pulled up to his belt. 

“Remember to take off anything tight. So your belt, those socks, and such.” He smiles and nods, doing that as you leave the room and make your way down to the living room. Your piano is loud and sits at the perfect volume from your bedroom for his headaches. At night it’s amazing, the black-out curtains and the hidden glow-in-the-dark stickers around your room make him fall asleep in minutes. 

He listens as the steps creak and gets to work on getting himself comfortable. He should get up within the next two hours and help you prepare dinner for the team. But he doubts you’d actually wake him up on time for that and wait until everything is done so he could rest for as long as possible. 

Sipping the tea, he grabs his phone and sets a timer before placing it under the pillow. It’s silent but the vibrations will wake him up if you don’t. After doing that, he sets his things on the rocking chair and hears the starting notes of the music drifting up. He tries his best to focus on the music and not the notes themselves as he tucks himself into bed. 

—

He was right. 

He was absolutely right in that you wouldn’t wake him up. You even took away his phone when you went to check on him sometime later. He only woke up when he smelt the food coming from the oven and the loud ow you hissed when you bumped your forearm against the oven racks. 

He doesn’t bother to fix himself as he stuffs his feet into his house slippers and begins his descent down to the kitchen. 

“Aw, sorry, hun. I didn’t mean to wake you,” You call over your shoulder, hearing the banister creek under his hand. 

“You should’ve,” He chided while wiping the sleep from his eyes. His migraine is gone, which is honestly surprising. It must’ve been a terrible headache, then. Especially considering he doesn’t medicate for them anymore. “I was supposed to help you. You didn’t even let me buy groceries.” He frowns, staring at the array of food you’d made. 

“Please,” You dismiss, putting a damp cloth over your burnt forearm. “My brother came over while you slept and made half of it. New recipes for his restaurant.” Spencer looks at the fancy little labels on the trays; shawarma, broccoli cheddar potatoes, sun-dried tomato pasta, garlic bread, baked ziti, and lemon pepper chicken. 

“Did you already make the dessert? I can help with that,” He offers, scanning the counters. 

“You needed your rest, Spencer. Everything is already made and Derek said he’ll be here in ten. He’s picking up Penelope and Emily.” He stares at you and you stare back. “Fine. I haven’t finished cleaning the living room. Could you grab the extra chairs from the shed? Or grab the large tray from the cabinet and organize the brownie dip?”

“I got the brownie dip,” Heading out to the shed, you grab four foldable chairs and remind yourself to clean the dusty leather once you get back inside. You’d rearranged your entire living room and dining room for today. The couches, which used to be in a more closed position, were all shoved against the walls and the shelves you had were hidden away inside of your shed. Your coffee table, which Spencer vaguely remembered had different shapes, was out in its longest form and several coasters were scattered around. Not to mention plate mates stacked on the edge. 

He’s glad you left the wall decorations up, although he thinks you could’ve done without the framed picture of you and him at your cousin's wedding where he has cake smashed on his face and your fingers are covered in white frosting. You still deny doing that. 

“Like this?” He asks once you’re done cleaning the chairs. Peering over his shoulder, you rub along his hips and nod. 

“Looks perfect. Have you tried it yet?” He shakes his head and you grab a graham cracker and put some of the dip on it. He takes it and tries it, aware of your gaze on him. 

“It’s good.” He affirms and you nod, grabbing a strawberry and dipping it inside. 

“My nan used to make it when we were kids. It’s super good, but she added rainbow sprinkles.” The doorbell rings and Spencer goes upstairs to get himself properly dressed while you go to the door. 

“Hey, guys!” You greet them, their names popping into your head as you see them. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“Your lawn is beautiful,” Penelope says as she hugs you, careful to not drop the dish she’s brought. You think it’s some type of finger food because it moves around. “How’d you get it like that?”

“Oh, thanks. It’s almost native plants. The bees and butterflies do most of the work.” Stepping aside, you greet Emily and Derek and check outside. There’s no one else so you close and lock the door. Just one lock so you don’t have to keep undoing it until everyone gets there. 

“This is lovely,” Emily says, her eyes taking in your home. She eyes the support beams and then the vintage wallpaper. “Aw, look at Spencer!” She laughs, staring at the picture from the wedding just as he’s coming down the stairs. His arm snakes around your waist and you hold his hand, eyeing their shoes. 

“Do you guys want some house slippers?” He asks for you and takes them to the closet where you keep them. You bought some new ones just for today. When they return the door rings again and this time Spencer gets the door while you set out the food. You’ve never really hosted before, so you awkwardly stand in the space between the dining room and living room until Spencer beckons you over. 

“This is Hotch and Jack, you’ve met JJ, her husband Will, and their sons. Henry and Michael. He introduces and you shake hands with the men and wave at the boys. 

“It’s good to see you again,” JJ says as she pulls you in for a hug. You’ve met her twice, once at the park accidentally and another while you both were hanging out with your sister and niece at the mall. 

“Likewise, please sit. The food is done so feel free to serve yourself.” 

She nods and she and Hotch set their food next to the rest of the food. She’d brought three bags of chips and Hotch had gotten ham and cheese sliders. Derek had made macaroni and cheese, Penelope brought over zucchini garlic bites, and Emily brought over two bottles of red wine. 

“This is a lovely house,” Will says as the two of you stand awkwardly, watching the others talk to each other. 

“Thank you. You have a lovely family,” He smiles over at them and nods. 

“Are you and Spencer ever gonna…” He trails and you suck in a breath. Your home isn’t exactly big enough for kids, maybe just you and Spencer. It’s not even ideal for hosting, but you made it work. 

“One day, maybe.” You answer, looking at him as he’s holding Henry. “We haven’t talked about that yet.” He nods and you get to leave when Rossi knocks on the door. 

“Am I the last one?” He asks upon hearing the noise. 

“They say the best is last, no?” He laughs and nods, presenting his famous pasta and you happily lead him to the food table. Some of the food is already gone and you see Spencer holding two plates. Making your way over to him, his eyes light up and he hands you one of the plates. 

“I noticed some of it was going quickly,” He explains as you take the plate. It’s piled in neat forms, none of the food touching each other. “So, I made you what I thought you’d like.” Thanking him, you drag him to a seat and everyone settles down with their plates. 

Turning the TV on, you put on a random show and tune the conversation going on around you. 

“This is really good,” JJ says, pointing her fork at the broccoli cheese potatoes. 

“Is it?” You ask and get an enthusiastic yes from Jack. “I’m allergic to broccoli so I’ve never actually tried it.” 

“Aw man, you’re missing out.” Derek sighs, rubbing his stomach after he’d eaten three of them and you laugh, twirling the plastic fork around the Rossi pasta. 

“(Y/n)’s brother owns a restaurant, he’s thinking of adding those to the menu.” Spencer explains and you nod, putting the fork down. 

“It’s called Bun-Apple Tea. He’s thinking of adding those, the tomato pasta, and the baked ziti to his menu. I’m usually his test subject but he appreciates the wider audience.” 

“Oh, he should add it.” Will says. He’s been busy feeding Michael bites of the garlic bread while also feeding himself the macaroni and cheese. “I took JJ there once, she loved it.” She nods and recounts the experience and your eyes widen. 

“I worked that day!” You admit. “I was playing some music, were you the couple that had ordered the mushroom soup and the couple next to you tried to steal it?” 

“Oh my god, yes!” She laughs. “You were playing the piano, right?” You nod and tell the story to the others.

“Spencer mentioned you’re a writer, too, right?” Hotch asks. 

“I am,” Sheepishly, you look at Spencer. He smiles at you, not even sorry that he talks to his friends about you and your jobs. “I mainly write young adult fiction but I’ve started writing science fiction.” You elaborate. 

“One of his books is getting a TV show.” Spencer easily boasts and everyone congratulates you. “He’s also going to be the lead composer for it.”

“That’s amazing.” Emily says. “What book is it?”

“It’s one of my series; The Walking Dead. It was also a comic book for a special edition my publisher did.” The conversations devolve until you get up for a second plate of food from the kitchen. Spencer follows you with a large grin and fixes himself some more juice. 

“They like you,” He says and you look over at him. “I knew they would, of course.” He adds. “But this… wow. We should have a watch party for when the show comes out.”

“Maybe.”

—

“Ahh! My friend made this!” Penelope shouts as she shakes your shoulder. The first episode of The Walking Dead was set to air in just a couple of seconds and as Spencer predicted; it turned into a watch party.

It’s been nearly a year since the first time you’ve met them and you’ve been busy composing and having the final say over most of the show. Spencer sometimes tags along, giving his opinion on how certain things would look from a scientific standpoint. But there’s a lot of far-fetched imagination when it comes to zombies and what people could do. 

You think he just likes learning from the design crew on how they do things. He does. But he also likes seeing your book come to life, remembering each detail, and having people fix them without you noticing. 

Everything had come to fruition after several months of working and pitching ideas, not to mention filming and creating sets. 

You’re all at JJ’s house, scattered amongst the floor with the boys upstairs asleep. You’d warned them it’s definitely not suitable for them just yet and they trusted that. 

“This opening is good.” Derek says and you thank him. You want to tell him it was you and Bear McCreary who helped compose and Dominik Hauser who helped perform it with you but you don’t think he cares all that much. 

Spencer lays his head on your shoulder and you wrap your arm around him, happily watching the show that you know is going to ruin them forever. You’re glad they haven’t read the books, because damn. You look at all these faces that don’t make it to the final chapter and wonder how mad they’re going to be when their favorite will inevitably die. 

And boy, did they hate you. 

By the end of season one they all but refused to tell you their favorite characters. Never mind the story has been written and you couldn’t change it. Penelope would send you voicemails crying whenever she watched an episode early, yelling at you for killing her favorite character or someone who definitely didn’t deserve it. You made it up to her by being able to let her meet the actors during Comic Con the same year. 

Spencer, on the other hand, knows everything. They’ll pester him at work for spoilers and he’d just shrug. 

“I don’t remember who died.” He tells Morgan one day. 

“You remember what you ate for breakfast when you were ten. You know who dies this season! Who is it?” Derek demands, following Spencer out of the bullpen and into the elevator. 

“I know,” Emily grins.

“How?” Derek asks, his gaze accusing Spencer of spilling the beans to her but not to him. 

“It was a book first, genius,” She reminds him and shrugs. “I got tired of waiting and just read the book for this reason.” Stepping into the elevator Derek groans. He’s not going to read the book. 

“How’d you like it?” Spencer asks and she groans, throwing her head back. 

“It was so good! The deaths hurt like a bitch.” She explains and he laughs. 

“His sister blocked him for a month for killing this one character.” He explains and she nods, that’s completely justified. 

The elevator doors open and they spot you waiting at the front of the building, holding a cup of coffee and talking to JJ. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” He kisses your forehead as your conversation comes to a natural stop. 

“Sup,” Handing him the coffee, you greet the others. “I got your email Derek, and I’m not telling you.” You all walk outside and Derek pushes your head. 

“I’ll just read the book.” He turns his nose up and you hum.

“This book took Spencer twenty minutes to read.”

“Damn. How long is the audiobook?”

“About thirty-six hours,” Spencer answers. “Thirty-five hours and fifty-two minutes long.”

“Oh, hell no. I’ll wait,” 

“I couldn’t.” JJ sighs. “I finished the book last night.” He huffs and leaves the group, heading to his car. The others laugh and also split up leaving just you and Spencer. 

“They’re not ready for Carl’s death.” He tells you, a hint of a smile on his face. 

“You certainly weren’t,” You snicker, grabbing him by his wrist. “Now let’s hurry, I still need your opinion on suits for the award show.”

—

“You’re hurting my ears,” You tell Emily as she plays your piano in all the wrong ways. “My poor baby is being abused by you, I hope you know that. You monster.”

“What about me?” Penelope grins, playing your violin. 

“You’re actually killing me. The two of you are going to become murderers at this rate.” She frowns and checks her fingers on the violin before playing one actual note. “That was good. But I can also see JJ about to pick up my trombone and that thing was my very first instrument so she should put it down.” Carefully, she sets it back in the case and Spencer comes down the stairs with Derek close behind. 

“Oh, are we playing?” Derek asks and b-lines for the cello you have. 

“They’re killing me,” You mumble to Spencer at the base of the stairs. Neither of you are hiding your expressions, not even when JJ joins Emily on the bench and they play horrid— horrid sounds. 

“I’m about to spoil the Glenn death to get them to stop.” You whisper, staring at Penelope as she pressed too hard on the strings and winced. 

“Don’t,” He gasps. “They’ll never recover.”

“Good. Neither will my ears after this torture!”

[tubbytarchia]

To all the nosy neighbour enjoyers, thank you for being that. Anyway here's my propaganda!! Just some of my favorite moments tee hee

Sorry if my BigB looks weird (I tried really hard :( ) I'll pretend that that's intentional given my rabbit hybrid BigB thoughts under cut:

I made a little post about this before but basically BigB has such rabbit behavior:

1. Cannot help but keep burying himself underground like it's his natural habitat (seriously he comes back on ground to build a house on a mountain and then immediately makes an elaborate underground hideout again. Or how he built backrooms in SL and kept retreating there. Or how he was literally underground when he ran into Pearl, for Pearl to inform him that it was night time and BigB immediately wanting to retreat back underground. Or how he was underground for almost the entire "red winter is coming" session. Or)

2. Often fidgety around others

3. Constantly cautious but doesn't let nervousness show if there is any

4. More prone to keeping distance and watching rather than engaging

Idk he is extremely prey animal behavior (positive, affectionate) and I can never see him as anything but a rabbit now. I considered giving him rabbit legs too but then I was like nah. Because I think him having weird rabbit posture in a mostly human body contributes some inherent awkwardness and a bit of uncannines (fitting with his gaslighting tendencies). After all he's kind of out of his element above ground (or that's how he acts!) and that's when people are going to be seeing him. But just you wait till he stands tall for a change to tell someone off (like Cleo in SL or Scott in LimL). And with such posture, he inadvertently makes himself look smaller, which certainly would help him weasel his way out of undesired situations like he often does, eg by talking people into pitying him to save himself from dying. I'd also like to imagine him to be smart enough to manipulate his rabbit ears to not betray how he's feeling or to make others think he's feeling a certain way, unless he feels particularly threatened or something. That's maybe half the appeal of animal ears to me, that they can be an added tool for emoting, but a hybrid moving them in deliberate ways is a fun concept!

Oh and he has caving boots!!

I do kind of seethingly hate how he looks with his ears drawn back but I did the best I could. I really hate having human ears in addition to animal ears personally, but if I put his ears any further up where they'd look cuter (Pearl's antennae for comparision) it'll look really weird. Aghh whatever he's supposed to be awkward so whatever please ignore it Im going to cry

Also if you think the old design is cuter, it's almost certainly because of the lesser facial hair lol trust me!! And I changed the curly hair to be a bit less curly in likeness to Lee from Walking Dead because I did not realize that BigB's skin is basically that and I couldn't help myself. I was overall really unhappy with my old BigB design so yay for redesign. I swear its not just animal features that make things interesting for me...... maybe somewhat....

[the-milk-monarch]

Aquarium Date HCs for Connor and Ralph (separately) I love sea life so I love the idea of pointing out different fish to my fictional crushes :0 (maybe just date hcs in general tho??)

☣︎ hell yeah phish and first dbh ask 👏🙌 Sorry in case they're OOC or I got some fish trivia wrong. I'm not an expert lol btw I love to do the same, just with dog breeds ✌ I wanted to write general dating headcanons as well, but I didn't want the post to be too all over the place, so feel free to ask for more if you liked this rendition of the boys

【 AQUARIUM DATE 】 ☢︎ | gender-neutral reader ☢︎ | Detroit Become Human ☢︎ | Connor | Ralph

【 Connor 】

Since he used to be a working android and didn't have a lot free will while not being a deviant, Connor liked going out with you a lot.

He was never interested in fish, but when you mentioned going to the aquarium he was a bit curious.

"Hm, the aquarium? Yeah, I'd like to go." He said as he looked at you with attentiveness in his eyes.

You were excited to point out each and every fish to him, although you were a bit worried Connor would be able to just- search the internet and get to know everything about them from the start.

He was a grade A android and detective after all.

You hoped he wouldn't get bored of you rambling about it.

As you arrived to the fancy building, Connor took notice of the big glass tunnel.

He didn't comment anything, but you could see that he looked at the fish that swam above his head with curiosity

"That's a nurse shark." You pointed out with a slightly excited smile as you noticed the creature swim behind the glass. Connor looked the way you pointed, raising his brow with calm interest. "Ginglymostoma cirratum. The elasmobranch fish in the family Ginglymostomatidae." He came up with the info on the spot. He knew you were interested in the topic, so he wanted to impress and relate to you. You chuckled softly at his "knowledge" as you lightly punched him in the shoulder. "Hey- I'm supposed to be the fish expert here." You lightheartedly pointed out. "Right. Of course, tell me more then. I'd love to listen." He quickly let you take the scene. You smiled at his mindfulness. "This one's a pilchard. But more commonly known as, well, sardine. The same one you can buy at the market." You came up with more information as you observed Connor listening to you diligently. "It's interesting to actually see them swim in their natural habitat. At least, as natural as you can get." He mentioned lightheartedly. "Yeah. Like, people eat those." You said playfully, watching him smile at your comment.

Time went by quick as you pointed out a lot of fancy and regular fish that appeared near you, excited with each new one that showed on your radar.

Connor loved listening to you express yourself about the thing you were passionate about.

You previously had some worries about him getting bored while you were there, but he never shown a sign of annoyance.

But it couldn't be further from the truth, he was looking at you with never ending curiosity.

Time came for you to visit the touchpool.

"Can you actually touch the fish?" Connor looked at the pool, raising his brow calmly. You chuckled slightly. "Yes. That's what it's for. Go on. Touch the starfish." Connor looked at the water one more time before gently placing his hand inside. You could see the flow of emotions on his face as the invertebrate made contact with his cyberskin. It showed curiosity, then confusion, then a bit of- disgust? He took his hand out slowly, but you could see a bit of aversion in his movement. "Did you not like it?" You asked with a silly smile on your face. "It was- interesting. But i'd rather not touch it again." He commented with fake professionalism, trying to hide his distaste towards the feeling. It made you giggle. "Really? That bad? Aren't you used to touching dead bodies and stuff?" You asked amused. "I am. But that's different. Somehow, this creature seems to- somehow get me. In a bad way." He explained. The fact that Connor, the android who was used to far much worse things than you could survive through, was disgusted by the little starfish made you giggle. "Alright, you don't gotta touch it. But I'll tell you some interesting facts about it instead." You suggested, smiling at him. "Yeah, that sounds good." The corners of his lips turned up as he reciprocated the calm smile.

Connor spent rest of the day with you talking his ear off, but he didn't mind in the slightest, and even asked you for elaboration and more facts on some fish he found interesting with.

He reminisces the trip with you there very fondly, although he gets a bit annoyed when you sometimes tease him about the starfish incident.

In a lighthearted way of course.

【 Ralph 】

He was a bit hesitant to go somewhere where there's a lot of people at first.

His fear of humans still persisted, but it was greatly lessened when he got you in your life.

Although he's still shy and a bit anxious in public.

Nonetheless, when you told him what an aquarium is, he was a bit curious.

You reassured him that if anything happens, you will leave.

He nodded a bit unsure, but he trusted you'd make the right call, so he agreed.

He was very fidgety and anxious at first, but his demeanor changed once he saw the colorful creatures.

Ralph was never in a place with so many different kinds of fish before!

He was probably even more excited than you when he got into the zone.

You tried to pick the rooms with less or zero people around so Ralph would feel more comfortable.

But after he got mesmerized by the fishies, his fear was kinda skimmed over.

He did get scared by a moray eel though.

"Ralph does not like that fish!" He pointed out, upset at the scary monster behind the glass. You laughed softly. "It's a moray eel." "Ralph does not like moray eels." He repeated with a frown, although he was still slightly curious about it. In like a car-crash type of way. You looked around the tank, wanting to find some "nicer" fish to show him. "How about this one?" You pointed out at the sea horse. He looked at it with interest, tilting his head a little, which you thought was very adorable. "Hm... Ralph likes this one better." He said with conviction with made you chuckle slightly. "The males actually carry the eggs." You came up with a random trivia about them. It was actually a decently known fact about them, but Ralph being Ralph obviously didn't know it. "Huh?" He tilted his head once more. "It's to ensure their survival. Both mom and dad work together." You pointed out some more nerdy facts with a smile as you observed his reaction. "Hm... Ralph thinks the seahorses are nice." He came up to the glass, putting his hands on it to get a better view. "And interesting!"

After he got a bit more comfortable being t the aquarium, he would run around the place, following the fishes that swam above his head in the tunnel and ask you about them.

"What's that fish called? And that? And those small ones? Oh, what about that big one!" He pointed out lots of different types, making you a bit lost with answering as his questions were so quickly coming.

He's the type to just- poke the glass.

He's curious, you can't blame him.

He'll stop if you tell him to, though.

If there's a petting pool he must see it.

Tell him how to interact with it beforehand though, as he might get a bit- rough with his touches.

"Ralph put that stingray down!" You were horrified when you noticed him holding the poor creature by the tail. He flinched and dropped it back into the water. "Ralph is sorry- Ralph was just curious-" He said apologetically, putting hands closer to his chest in a nervous manner. "It's- It's okay Ralph, you can try just- petting it. Like that." You reached out your hand to touch the stingray that was swimming by. Ralph looked at you and tried to do the same. "O-okay, Ralph will try." He giggled when his sensors felt the skin of the animal brush against his fingers.

You didn't know what to expect at the aquarium, whether Ralph would like it at all, but you were positively surprised when he wanted to stick around more, even after the workers told you it's gonna close soon.

Overall, he was very excited, and wouldn't mind going there again.

Please tell him more fish facts at home.

[mrsrookhunt]

The BSD men falling asleep on you

Nikolai, Mushitaro, Sigma, Lovecraft, Jouno & Ango

(Is this my unofficial announcement that I write for Ango now? Yes, yes it is.)

Nikolai Gogol

Nikolai had been running on pure coffee and imagination-fueled fumes all day long after a night of two hours of sleep the day before.

Finally, at 11 o' clock at night he seems to run out of jokes, nudging his head into your lap while you read a book he deemed 'stupid and emotional' earlier in the day before you caught him crying in the bathroom, on chapter 4, a few hours later.

He always had the energy of a pack of wild toddlers in their natural habitat, tired or not, so it startled you to find him snoring and already drooling on your lap in just a few minutes.

He had a firm grasp on your arm, snuggling it like a teddy bear, and was otherwise halfway draped across you, in a dead sleep you didn't want to wake him up from.

Instead, you stroked his hair and tried to make yourself comfortable on the couch, pausing the TV and listening to his snores, the quietest you'd ever heard a sound out of him.

It wouldn't be the best sleep either of you ever got, but it would suffice to recharge the both of you for another day.

Mushitaro Oguri

Your dear Mushi, tired? Outwardly? A miracle. When he curls up on top of you during a bubble bath that was supposed to be exclusively yours, excitement courses through you, giggling at this cat-like posture. You tease him for a moment, but when he meets your eyes, you see that he's struggling to keep them open.

His motives are clear; he's jumped in your hot warm bath just to fall asleep on you.

Normally, every night he likes to sleep with his head to your chest so he can hear your heartbeat, but tonight he's too exhausted to even wait until bedtime, which, to his credit, is still several hours away.

You let him rest, rubbing his shoulders and back while he slips into a gentle bathtime snooze.

Kissing his head a few times, you pour a bit of warm water over him and change your posture so that the water laps over his body.

He grumbles, but barely stirs.

"Shh, Mushi, go back to sleep."

He gladly obliges.

Sigma

Sigma is generally exhausted, that's nothing new for him, but today sleep is overtaking him faster than he can prepare for it.

It's not long before he's layed out across your lap while you sit in bed, scrolling through social media, splayed out like a starfish and looking for your attention.

For a moment, you think he wants to cuddle, but it's clear that it won't be a long cuddling session. He just wants you to cuddle up with him so he can sleep properly.

When you put down your phone, he's already reaching out for you, fingertips gracefully sliding down your face. He brings your face closer, guiding you downwards for a nuzzle. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into an embrace, breath slowing down.

His eyes are only lightly closed, but you know better than to disturb him. He's got so much going on; while you've never seen him nap, you want to encourage it. He needs rest and self-care, and those are things that he puts far, far down his list of priorities most nights.

You quickly reach to shut off the bedside lamp and snuggle him tighter, pulling the blankets over you two.

Extra sleep would be good for the both of you.

H.P. Lovecraft

He is the ultimate sleeper normally, and while it takes more than some poking and prodding to wake him up, you still hesitate to disturb him when he drops, already half-asleep as usual, into your lap as you clack at your desktop computer.

He can't possibly be comfortable, body on the floor, with his neck stretched to inhuman heights to reach your lap. You giggle under your breath; his bodily distortions are something you've come to be quite comfortable with, and with minimal effort, you slide a hand down his lengthened neck and tickle him at the base of his collarbone.

He opens his eyes with an unamused snap and a slight furrow at his brow, wondering what the issue is.

With a sigh, you remind him that you're working, and that if he wants to sleep on you, he'll have to wait for a few more minutes.

He groans, rustling to the bed five whole steps away with the apathy of a sloth, annoyed at your rejection.

As much as you like to have him in your lap, he does it so often that it has made you get behind in your tasks many times.

You sense a glare as you continue typing, a little slower in hopes of being quieter so that he could sleep, but it is clearly to no avail, as his gaze is burning searing holes in your head and he is very evidently not going to sleep without you tonight.

You shut down your computer and put on the same relaxing beach-side sounds you do every night to calm your favorite ocean man, and you sweep into the bed beside him, pulling his head into the crook of your neck. He's tall, too tall for the bed, but curled up in such a position that he feels smaller than you.

He lets out a soft, contented growl, happy with your affections, before dropping off into dreamland, expectantly waiting for you to follow.

Jouno Saigiku

He's definitely only doing this because you hinted that you liked it.

Prideful as always, he insists that he's just tired, but you know he just wants you to croon over his actions and give him your undivided attention.

He pretends to fall asleep faster than he actually does, "sleep"-biting your wrist, a little smirk present on his face when you groan.

Always the sadist.

You roll him off your lap playfully, careful to make sure he won't hit his head on the bed posts.

You try to drift off to sleep yourself, certain that he'll keep teasing if you don't.

You jolt as he pulls you by the ear, frowning.

Apparently, he's dead set; he wants to fall asleep on you tonight. In a flash, his much-larger frame is pressed on top of you, and he's got you in a tight, inescapable embrace.

He's asleep in a few moments, just as he said he would be, and while it wasn't the 'cute' moment you were looking for, the cuddles were satisfying.

Ango Sakaguchi

Ango straight up drops, basically already asleep, into your shared bed.

He reaches out vaguely at the surrounding area, looking for you, knowing you're buried under a mound of covers somewhere.

You grasp his hand and pull him into the barrier of warmth you'd created over the course of a few hours.

He mumbles and groans some incoherent words into your chest; sweet things, you're certain, and you'll pretend you know what he said tomorrow.

You rub the base of his head, which feels feverish, as it normally does, and work your fingers up into his scalp to massage that constant throbbing headache away.

He's beginning to snore, and as a last minute act, you ease his glasses off his face and set them aside for tomorrow.

You whisper sweet words into his ears for him to hold through tomorrow.

[reddesires]

hey, would you be down to write some Koba head cannons for if he reunited with the woman who cared for him for a short time when both of them were little, kinda like Caesar and Will except Koba was taken from reader and that’s when he got put in the labs and abused and all that. But years later while he’s hunting with Caeser or Caesar welcomes reader into the colony since they needed help and Koba recognizes them since they kinda raised him and pretty much the only human he’s ever met who was kind for him

Platonic please, may you also include Koba later getting Jealous if Reader interacts with any other ape

I’m so sorry of this is like too much for a request this is literally one of my first time requesting things on peoples pages and I have no clue how to go about these things 😭😭

Koba x Human!Reader [Platonic Headcanons]

Fandom: Planet Of The Apes

Rating: No Warning.

A/N: Here you go lovely, I appreciate being the one to writing your first request. I hope you enjoy it ❤️

(Primatologists are people who study primates, including apes, in their natural habitats)

•You were a primatologist who helped rehabilitate Koba when he was small, his mother had passed away and was refused by the other bonobos since they had babies of their own.

•You had a bond with koba unlike any other, he clung to you like you were his mother despite there being others that looked after him too. After seeing his distress of being apart from you, you took sole responsibility of the small bonobo.

•He became the light in your eyes. You would coo at him in a gentle tone as his small hands tenderly touched your face in fascination. This small creature captured your heart, and his eyes were your favorite feature of his. The intelligence and unconditional love he held for you became your source of motivation.

•the devastation of being separated from him after there was a financial cutoff for your program was like a punch to the stomach. he wasn't yours but he was in all the ways that truly mattered, you became his surrogate mother and you knew that getting feelings involved would complicate things but he needed you and loved you and felt the same.

•"NO! Please! Don't take him, I'm begging you!" You pleaded and begged. You just knew that if they took him away, you may never see him again. All you wanted was for him live the life he was supposed to, amongst his own kind but in the end they took him from your arms as your pleas' mixed with koba's cries, his tiny hands reaching out for you and your own hand reached out in desperation "Koba!".

•You searched for him for many years, making connections and reaching out to sources, but it always led to a dead-end, but you couldn't give up. You felt immense guilt, and you still carried so much love for him that helped you hold onto hope that you'll be reunited with the bonobo that you raised.

•One of your sources gave you info that one of the last times they heard of the group of apes that came from your program was when they were sold to a corporation for testing purposes in a lab, the doom you felt catapulted into you with such force that you felt your heart break into a million tiny pieces. You had no way of knowing which corporation and the location and it's been so long that you knew the damage was done and there wasn't a damn thing you can do, the shame you carried was an overbearing force as you came to terms. You were working in the San Francisco zoo as the up until the simian virus ravaged the human population, leading you back to the bonobo you were looking for.

                                °•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

•You had found refuge in the woods since other humans no longer welcomed others within their inner circles, you understood they were trying to protect themselves but you'd rather avoid the conflict entirely seeing as how scraped up you are already.

You knew of the apes within the confines of the forest but you'd rather your chances with them as you spent many years living amongst them during your primatologist years, but it was obvious their intelligence skyrocketed since then.

As you are gathering whatever resources within the area, berries being your top favorite and encapturing your attention as you're busy with your task, you start to hear slight rustling to the left of you.

You tilt your head only slightly, seeing two dark figures in your peripheral, you knew better than to react abruptly so you slowly straighten yourself out facing them your hands up in surrender to show you mean no harm. The two are cautious in their steps as they fully come out of the brush. It's a chimpanzee and Bonobo you observed.

The Bonobo has a defensive stance, a spear at ready and a snarl crossed on his muzzle and the chimp has a hardened scowl on his face and you feel a chill trail down your spine at his green stare but the primatologist in you tells you not to stare him in the eye.

"I mean no harm..just seeking safety.." You softly say, your throbbing leg shaking as you try to balance yourself upright.

"Koba." The chimp holds his palm up in front of the bonobo, the bonobo slowly lowering the spear, his stare hard and calculated as he sizes you up but nevertheless listens to the order given.

You feel your heart stop in your chest as the word hangs in the air, and you're practically breaking at the seams. He's not only a bonobo, but his name is Koba too.. it seems too much like a coincidence to not be him.

"Koba?" You say, signing his name the way you did back when you cared for the baby bonobo. You dropped your hand against your sternum, a circular motion you would reserve only towards the small Koba.

Time seems to hold still and resume after Koba drops on all fours slowly approaching you with an unreadable expression on his face as he stands in front of you, and you notice him extending his palm out.

You remember this motion. He did it as a small one often to you. He was expecting you to respond accordingly so you do. Your fingers slide across his palm.

It was you, after all. His mother.

                             °•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Bonus ending:

You were welcomed by Caesar into the colony after the revelation of your connection to Koba, you were in disbelief of finally getting reunited with your little bonobo and though he was different than what you remember you can still see remnants of the old him.

You came forward to Caesar with your knowledge of rehabilitation to help the other apes in the colony and heal their ailments, he accepted your helping hand concluding that you were now a valuable member of the colony due to your extensive experience and abilities.

Koba was very protective of you and he was in a way jealous of your attention to the other apes, after years of being separated and missing your motherly guidance you were the only human that'll he'll ever hold a torch for.

A growl rumbled from his chest as he watched a male chimp get too close to you for his liking. "Koba, be nice to the others."

"Hmpf."