#i just need to draw him softer i cant explain why i just need you to understand me

[scwibbs]

im so delusional im making the most self indulgent re5 au where wesker survives just so i can draw him with a soft tummy

[yesimwriting]

Do you think Kirigan would go for soft girls or the ones that has the same personality as him?

a/n ahh okay ik ive been bad at updating and making content on here and been on a kinda unofficial break but im doing a little better mentally so more content soon!! anyways i had to answer this the SECOND i saw it bc i have SO many opinions.

--

okay,, this is going to sound like such a cop out answer, but i think there's no wrong answer bc it depends on how you interpret his character (which i'll explain really soon) but basically, in short, my personal opinion is that he'd go for a balance but be more drawn to someone that presents as one extreme and has the opposite hidden in them,,

personally, i think he'd be drawn to someone that presents as a 'soft' girl with a hidden 'darkness' in them, i don't mean like secretly evil but someone who wants to be good so badly but something in them is just a little too hurt or impulsive to always be the bigger person, even though they want to be.

Here's why I think that personality would draw him in most (i'll also explain the opposite personality bc like i said at the beginning, i think it really depends on how you interpret his character)

- okay, so it's clear that manipulation is kinda his love language (all he did was manipulate my girl Alina and i personally do think that that was the only way he was capable of loving her, so his issues weren't an absence of love but an inability to love in a healthy way--but that's just my opinion)

- so someone in that mental state that wants to be good and for the most part is but sometimes does foolish things bc they're human and have to deal with complex emotions (emotions that remind him of his personal struggles), would be really easy to manipulate bc he's clearly not an upstanding moral guy

- so when he tells someone with those internal conflicts that he sees seeds of darkness or something beyond the exterior they show the world, that person is inclined to believe him. (like when he tells alina that he saw her power and didn't run away, but can Mal say the same?)

- and after planting those seeds, he would be quick to reap them,, what do i mean by that??

- well, a major, personal headcanon of mine is that the Darkling definitely craves the acceptance and assurance of a partner to keep away the solitude that haunts him but he's afraid/hates the idea of losing control and giving someone so much one sided power over him

- so that's why he would be drawn to someone with a softer exterior for deeper connection purposes, bc he could feel like a protector/comforter and maintain some control (i also could very easily see him having an innocence/corruption kink but we're not here for that)

- also,, i think he'd see someone like that (or just his SO in general) as super good, and there would be some level of comfort in him to be able to look at his SO and be like 'they care for me/need me so i cant be that far gone, that lost' or maybe even be like 'if someone as good as them is allowed their impulses, i should be allowed mine'

- i also feel like he'd instinctually convince himself he HATES any 'soft presenting' person he's even somewhat attracted/intrigued by bc anything he sees as pure good he'd be at least a little jealous of in a way he doesn't understand (bc keep in mind, his darkness didnt come from a place of true malice originally)

- but i think he'd bore of someone that's completely soft just bc he's attracted to power bc even when he's not working on his plans, he is,, and if the potential SO doesn't have that power physically (as in political influence/grisha ability) he'd ideally need some strength of will/personality,, which is why he likes to press on that person's fear of being 'bad'

- he'd also like to prey on someone with this personality's fear of being a bad person so that he could feel better about himself bc like i said earlier,, a small part of him would be jealous of their goodness and i think at times he'd even be insecure

- especially if his SO started spending time with someone that's a better person than him bc he wants/needs to be the person that his SO cares about most bc it's not like he cares about a lot of ppl and if he cares more about them than they do about him,, that's not a type of control he'd be willing to relinquish

now why i think ppl could believe that he'd 'go for' someone with a similar exterior to him but has a secret soft inside:

- well,, that's basically him

- i believe opposites attract way more in complex characters (which is part of the reason i lean towards the first dynamic), but he could def be with someone with such a similar personality bc two people that crave power could create such a great couple

- first off, there would be a natural challenge there, bc the two could keep each other on edge and motivated (and victory/adrenaline of competition sex would hit hard,, let me tell you)

- he'd feel comfortable being himself a little more with someone that expresses the same level of ambitions as him and that would be easier than a relationship with someone that presents as soft

- tbh i think someone with a similar personality to him as his ideal hook up but for more serious connection,, he'd connect to someone softer bc they could give him approval/assurance he needs easier

- i think that a similar personality to him would keep him on his toes and entertained which is important and someone that's as driven as him would be beneficial for multiple reasons

- they could connect to him through his struggle and validate his actions

- and if that person had a soft spot,, he'd see even more of himself in them and he'd be able to feel like a protector a little more

- he'd def like to push at that softness in order to feel like his SO is important to him, even his SO is good at hiding that part of themselves

--

honestly the reason that how you view his character is so important in answering this question is bc it depends on whether you think that motivation/being pushed while still being needed is more important to him or being validated while still feeling like he's in control is more important to him.

but yeah,, in general i think he'd be drawn to softer girls but would end up going for girls more like him bc of more assured sexual chemistry and bc it puts him less at risk at opening up to anything beyond the face he wants the world to see

[rocorambles]

OK BUT WHICH BOYS WOULD HAVE TO SLEEP WITH A TIDDIE IN HAND OR ELSE THEY CANT SLEEP AND MAKE A BIG FUSS

HAHAHA WAIT I LOVE THIS!! As a big tiddie girl myself and someone who loves big tiddie boys and girls, I relate to this so much. Off the top of my head, this is going to be Kuroo, Bokuto, and Atsumu. 

Warnings: Implied NSFW, but really this is just some slightly spicy fluff

Kuroo

- Okay, so he doesn’t necessarily need to have a tiddie in his hand to sleep, but what he does like to do is smush his face in the valley of your breasts so that his cheeks and face are squished by your breasts. 

- He’s always needed two pillows on either side of his head to sleep and this is pretty much the same thing, but better! Your breasts are softer and warmer than his pillows and he swears his bed hair isn’t nearly as bad when he replaces his pillows with your breasts. 

- Unfortunately, it’s not always the most comfortable position for both of you and there’s a hilarious scuffle between the two of you when you whine that his head’s too heavy or when you shift your position at night and suddenly his head falls off your chest and he’s abruptly woken up. 

- And the two of you sound and look like yowling and hissing cats as you try to shove his head off of you and as he digs his claws into you as he stubbornly insists on his favorite position. 

- But sooner or later one of you gets tired (usually you) and Kuroo beams like a cat who’s got milk as he re-buries his head into your chest and contently closes his eyes and falls back to sleep while you roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips when you watch your boyfriend instantly pass out again. 

Bokuto

- Bokuto just cannot keep his hands off of you in general and most of the time it’s not even sexual. He just loves the way you feel in his arms, loves how much softer you are than him, loves how different your breasts feel from anything on his rock hard body. And he finds comfort in just holding them, cupping them, touching them. 

- You don’t really mind Bokuto’s physical affection. In fact you love it and you just smile as he wraps his arms around you, innocently holding your breasts in his hand as he casually talks to you about how your day was. 

- But nighttime is a different story and you’ve learned the hard way that Bokuto is huge into cuddling after waking up drenched in sweat and almost being choked to death by his strong muscular arms as he clutches and wraps around you like you’re a large teddy bear. 

- The two of you always fall asleep fine and you find the weight of his arms and hands against you comforting, finding security in the way he holds you. But when you wake up in discomfort, instinctively squirming away from your boyfriend, chaos ensues and you yelp when strong calloused hands insistently tug you back towards him. 

- It’s a game of tug and war until you smack your boyfriend’s head and owlish eyes open and stare at you in confusion, a pout on his lips when he asks you why you hit him and woke him up. But he sheepishly smiles when you explain yourself and tells you to go back to sleep, that he’d give you some space to cool down from his body heat and the two of you sleep on your respective ends of the bed...only for you to wake up when Bokuto’s body unconsciously finds its way to you, curling around you in a familiar pattern. 

Atsumu

- Okay, first off, this boy would whine about anything that he doesn’t get his way when the two of you are dating. 

- But you have every right to be wary of your boyfriend’s seemingly “innocent” touches because you KNOW they’re going to end up as anything but innocent with his lack of control and unhealthily high libido. 

- So you’re constantly smacking his wandering hands away during the day, not even entertaining the idea of letting him do anything more than hold your hands and give you chaste pecks in public. 

- You give him more freedom at home, letting him give open mouthed kisses, letting him pull you into his lap, but when the kisses start becoming too harsh and trail down too far down your neck, when he begins to push and grind against your ass, you’re quick to pull away, telling him you need to get chores done first, rolling your eyes as he whines and whines about being “touch-starved” despite making you unable to walk pretty much every night. 

- But night time is a different story and you let him pull you close to him, let him massage and knead your breasts in his calloused hands as he wraps his body around yours. Atsumu loves your body, can’t ever get enough of it, and you feel so beautiful, so loved as he just spends what feels like eternity learning and memorizing every inch of you. There’s nothing sexual about it, nothing dirty about it and you smile fondly as he stares at you in awe. 

- You remember when you had found it odd at first, embarrassing, unsure what he saw in you that had him so fascinated and you had pulled away from him, trying to hide your body from him shyly. But when you saw the hurt in his eyes and heard his genuine pleas and aggressive affirmations of how beautiful you were, how much he loved you, you had tentatively found your way back into his arms. 

- Needless to say after that, Atsumu never let the two of you sleep, keeping you up with his loud whining and complaining every time you tried to draw away from his hold...not that you’d want anything else other than being wrapped up in his embrace...even if it eventually means that neither of you will get any sleep anyway as adoration slips into something darker and more sensual as the night goes on. 

[inadaydream99]

Hello honey, can I request a SKZ reaction to their crush that always give 'em a lot of attention starts suddenly paying more attention to other member. Thanks in advance ^^

Hey! Thanks for requesting 😁 I decided to make some of these fluffy and some a little more angst, just to have a little more variety in the reactions ☺️ I hope you enjoy this!

Chan

Chan had been acting off with you all day, looking sulky and generally annoyed about something. But you couldn’t figure out what it could possibly be.

You decide that you should just ask him, wanting to make him happy again because there was nothing you hated more than seeing him sad.

“Have I suddenly become boring to you?” Chan asks, his question substituting an actual answer to your question.

“Where would you get that idea from?” You respond with a light laugh. You found it really endearing that this was the reason for his sulking, a weight off your shoulders knowing his mood can be easily fixed.

“It’s just, you’ve been spending a lot more time with Changbin and not really been paying me any attention.” Chan finally confesses, his expression changing from a childish pout to one of genuine upset.

“Changbin asked me to help him with a surprise he had planned for Felix, how could I not agree to help. Anyway, you should know you’re my favourite person ever, I think I’ve made that very clear the whole time we’ve been friends.” You explain, placing your hand comfortingly on Chans shoulder. A smile finds its way back onto his face, his posture perking up at the realisation that he has nothing to worry about.

“Don’t get so jealous and moody with me next time you feel this way.” You tease which earns you a slap on the arm in responce in attempt for chan to hide his blush, only making you laugh louder.

“Yeah alright, so what was Changbin’s surprise?” Chan asks, intrigued by his friends secrets as he takes your hand in his.

Woojin

“I will not settle for anything less than your undivided attention.” Woojin flatly states, his deadpan expression alerting you of his jealously.

Woojin didn’t want to admit his jealousy of you spending a lot of time with the other members, but he was. After all, he had been harbouring a little crush on you for a while and so he wanted to be around you as much as he could.

“But I-”

“No but’s, you’ve been spending too much time studying with Seungmin. I want some time with you.” Woojin cuts you off, sensing your weak excuses on the tip of your tongue. You sigh in defeat knowing too well that he always gets his own way.

“Fine. But after this I really do need to study.” You compromise as you fall back onto the sofa in the space next to Woojin.

“Of course.” Woojin smiles widely as he pulls you into his arms. You snuggle into his side, enjoying the warm cuddle as a deep sigh of content escapes your lips.

Minho

You had always found Minho a complicated person. You never knew where you stood with him, but it’s one of your favourite things about your friendship. That’s why you always spend time together. You admired his harsh and truthful personality.

Over the time of your friendship, Minho began to develop feelings for you. He didn’t want to but the more you spent time together, the deeper his feelings got.

“Ignore me, I dare you.” Minho narrows his eyes as he harshly spits his words at you. You look up at him from your book with wide eyes, shock evident in your expression from his sudden outburst.

“I’m not ignoring you Minho. I’m reading.” You state, lifting your book a little to draw attention to it.

“That’s not what I mean. I was referring to you not paying me any attention. You’ve been constantly hanging out with Jisung.” Minho rolls his eyes prompting you to close your book and turn your full attention to him.

“I mean, why would you choose him over me? He’s annoying.” Minho continues, his defensive body language causing you to smirk.

“Are you jealous?” You tease, raising a brow in amusement.

“Absolutely not.” He scoffs in responce, his arms folded as he looks away.

“Uhuh sure, so you don’t want to go for dinner tonight then?” You continue to tease knowing full well that Minho definitely would want to.

“No.” Minho bluntly responds, still refusing to look at you.

“Ok then, I’ll just ask Jisung.” You shrug, playing off that you are unaffected.

“No! I mean, no. I’ll go with you.” Minho finally cracks as he turns to face you again, this time with a softer expression and a slight pink tint to his cheeks. You just smugly smile up at him, both of you knowing that you got the better of him this time.

Changbin

“Well, that really hurts.” Changbin feigns offence as he enters the kitchen to see you laughing. Jeongin has been telling you an embarrassing story about Changbin which left you struggling to breath from finding it completely hilarious.

“I’m sorry but it’s just too funny.” You say through laughter, wiping your tears away.

“Thanks Jeongin. You know that I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of (Y/N).” Changbin scolds the younger boy, annoyed by his cheeky antics.

“I’m sorry, it’s just (Y/N) asked.” Jeongin becomes reserved before leaving the room apologetically.

“Don’t look so mad, something similar happened to me.” You try to console your friend.

“That’s not why I’m mad anymore. I’m more annoyed that you’ve been going to the other guys to hang out rather than me.” Changbin states, his tone harsh as he moves towards you.

“Oh, I didn’t realise. You should have said.” You respond quietly, feeling timid from the guilt of neglecting Changbin.

Hyunjin

“Ah! My knee!” Hyunjin dramatically makes a scene, flailing his arms as he falls to the floor.

The reason for his random behaviour? He was attention seeking because you haven’t been paying him as much attention recently and it was making him jealous.

You watch him in amusement for a moment, chuckling at his very obvious attempt to get your attention as he continues to make a meal out of pretending to get hurt.

“Hyunjin are you ok!” You play along, rushing over and kneeling at his side as he lays on the floor holding his knee. An exaggerated whine echo’s the room in responce.

“What can I do to make it better?” You question and you try to refrain from laughing at his over the top expressions.

“Well, I think the only way to make things better is for a lot of cuddling and maybe watching a few movies.” Hyunjin frantically nods his head as he reveals his true reasons from his antics.

“Ok, only because it will make you feel better.” You smile down at him, petting his head as he smiles up at you.

“This is nice, we should do this more often.” Hyunjin whispers to you after the first movie comes to an end. You look up at him and nod your head in agreement before moving back to place you head on his chest, his arms wrapped around you securely as you cuddle together.

Jisung

When Jisung is jealous he whines. He doesn’t want you giving anyone else more attention than you give him because he reveales in getting a reaction.

“Hey, I’m standing right here!” He waves his arms about while he complains. He wanted your attention but he entered the room to see you engrossed in conversation with Woojin, again.

“Yeah, we know.” Woojin answers with a roll of his eyes. You laugh as Jisung stomps over to where you are sat and immediately envelops you in a tight hug.

“Ouch, I cant breathe.” You whine as you struggle out of his hold, only to be pulled in even tighter.

“I can’t watch this, I’m going.” Woojin sighs as he gets up and leaves the room.

“Finally, I have you all to myself.” Jisung triumphantly cheers, freeing you so you can turn to face him.

“Stop being a jealous attention seeker.” You chuckle as you take in his pleased face.

“That’s never gonna happen.” Jisung laughs along with you as you sigh deeply at his responce.

Felix

“I’m definitely not bothered.” Felix scoffs as you confront him about his harsh attitude towards everyone.

It all started when you began paying him less attention. It hurt Fleix’s feelings seeing the person he has developed a huge crush on suddenly start paying more attention to his friends.

“You definitely are. Why else would you sass Changbin like that when he only asked you to pass him a spoon.” You deadpan with your arms folded across your chest.

“Alright! Maybe I am, but it’s your fault. I feel like you aren’t interested in me anymore.” Felix becomes quieter with each word, the admittance of his feelings making him feel defeated.

“Just because I have other friends doesn’t mean I’m less interested in you. I didn’t even realise you felt this way.” You reply with glazed over eyes, feeling sad from not realising how you made Felix feel.

“I’m sorry.” You stutter out, trying to hold back the tears.

“It’s ok, I’m sorry too.” Felix pulls you into a hug, feeling equally as bad for upsetting you. He felt a lot better knowing you hadn’t been neglecting him intentionally and promised himself that next time he would tell you before making assumptions.

Seungmin

“It’s your loss.” Seungmin sasses as he turns away from you.

“What on earth Seungmin! Just because I was hanging out with Chan doesn’t mean you have the right to act all jealous.” You shout after him, following him down the hall as he walks away from you.

“But it does. It hurt to see you practically fall at his feet when I’ve been here the whole time!” Seungmin shouts at you.

The room falls deadly silent as you take in his words. You had no idea he felt that way about you and, although his confession was in a moment of anger, it made you feel warm inside, your face turning a deep shade of red.

“Incase you didn’t notice, I like you too dummy.” You laugh as Seungmin’s nervous expression turns into a wide smile.

Jeongin

“Give me attention or I’ll die!” Jeongin exclaims, holding onto your arm in an attempt to stop you from leaving.

“But I have plans. I need to go or I’ll be late.” You tell him for the 100th time as you struggle to get free.

“Well cancel them. I think it’s more important to spend time with me. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” Jeongin mumbles as you finally get your arm out of his grip.

Noticing his timid voice you glance up at him from looking at your arm. A pang of guilt shoots through you as you see his solumn expression and realise that he’s right, you haven’t spent time together for a while.

“Ok, I’ll cancel my arrangements and we can go out instead.” You sigh as you give in to Jeongin.

“Yay!” Jeongin cheers, his sad face instantly changing to an elated one at getting what he wanted.

[littlebitoffanfic]

Back On Track

Fandom: Captain Marvel Characters: Talos, Carol Relationship: Talos/reader Request: have you seen the new captain marvel movie? I really want to see what you would do with a Talos request. You sat at the console, watching Carol as she flew in front. She would be getting tired and would need to stop soon, but not quite yet. She could return to the ship and enter through a bay at the back which would close and inside door to open the outside one for her to come in. Once she was inside, it would swap and close the outside one then open the inside. this would allow her to enter the ship and leave when she desired. Most of the Skrull were fast asleep throughout the ship apart from one or two who were still a little on edge about everything. You had decided to help them find a home along with Carol. She was your sister, and the thought of losing her again made your stomach twist horribly in your stomach. After her disappearance, you rose through the ranks and ended up working with Fury. You had been there from the start, you had seen all this unfold and watched in disbelief as your sister not only rose from the grave but also in a ball of fire. You had been there when you all entered Lawsons ship and reunited Talos with his sister and niece. When the time had come for her to leave, she offered you to come with her. Fury had agreed, saying that there was going to be a shift in the whole galaxy, and he would need someone he could trust. And so, here you were. leaning back in the seat, your eyes skimmed the empty space around you, wondering where she was leading you all. You heard the door to the room open and looked over to see Talos enter. He smiled and nodded to greet you which you returned. “You should be asleep.” His voice was deep and a little gruff as he walked over and sat at the control panel next to you. “probably.” You agree with a chuckle. “but I cant.” you looked at the Skrull who sat next to you. The first time you had seen him, you had felt anger and hate for him and his kind. But you had been misinformed like some many others. When your alliances changed, you began to look at him more kindly and felt a great respect for him. He fought a losing battle in hopes of seeing his family again. He admitted he had done things he wasn’t proud of, but he did them for his people and so they could survive. You could relate to him in some ways. You had lost your sister and the grief had driven you near insanity. They never found a body, or anything else for that matter. The thought that she might still be out there, somewhere, haunted you. You couldn’t pinpoint the moment you realised you were attracted to him. Some small voice at the back of your head whispered it had been right from the start, and even though you shook it away, you had a suspicion it was right. His features and colour were so unique and otherworldly. You partly hated that you were so attracted to him because you spent a lot of time with him now. The two of you were very close, and he seemed genuinely happy when he found out you were accompanying them. “Cant?” Talos chuckled as he sat back in the chair comfortably. He was more relaxed around you than most other. Maybe because with you, he didn’t have to be a leader. He didn’t have to be the fearless general, the ruthless commander. No, he just had to be himself. “Im still getting use to the lack of sun.” You explain, looking out past Carol into the black void. “Ah.” Talos hums, seeming to understand immediately as he nods. “It does take some time.” “why are you still awake?” You ask, turning your chair to face him. You instantly saw a soft smile dawn his lips as he glanced at you. “I still have a journey ahead before I can rest easily again.” He tell you, making you offer him a soft smile. He was worried about his future, the future of his people. “you don’t have to carry that burden alone anymore.” You keep your voice soft, and quiet. you knew he wouldn’t want anyone to overhear such things. Talos frowns and tilts his head to the side. after a moment of watching you, he signs slightly and shakes his head, looking away from you. Talos suddenly stands, turning and walking towards the door. You dart up from your seat. You didn’t mean to offend him or upset him. Grabbing his hand, he stops when your skins touches his own. You were so much softer than his own kind. The palms of your hand, the pads of your fingers, so soft. unlike his own hands, which were rough but no less sensitive than your own. “Talos?” you call his name, drawing him back a little as he turned to face you but you didn’t drop his hand. In fact, you felt him clutch your hand. “You’re not alone anymore.” “you think im lonely?” Talos smirked, as if he found the idea amusing in some way. “A little. Yes. I think you’re so use to being on your own.” You confess to him, stroking the back of his hand with your palm in a soothing motion. “And?” Talos asked, his eyes falling to your hand as he marvelled at how small they were in comparison with his own. “And you have me.” You tell him, unsure if he could sense the true meaning of your words. “you?” He smiles, but not in a malicious way. “Im know im not much.” You giggle, looking down as you cheeks burned red. A soft chuckle echoed from his chest as he reached up his free hand. Gently, he took your chin between his forefinger and thumb and guided your attention back up to him. His eyes darted between your own eyes and your lips. “You are so much more.” He breaths, his voice filled with love and a hint of lust. “you are perfect.” All you could do was look at him with wide, owlish eyes as he smiled and leaned closer. He paused an inch or so away from your lips, his eyes darted up to meet yours. It dawned on you that he had paused to allow you time to reject him. You could lean away, turn your head to the side or tell him to stop. But you didn’t want that. Closing your eyes, you leaned forward and met his lips. He kissed you softly, sweetly. Your hand drop from his own so you could wrap your arms around his neck. His own hands found your hips, pulling you against his solid chest, not that you minded. You pressed yourself against him, feeling one of his hands slip around to rest on your lower back. Something in the kiss shifted. It was in a moment, barely a blink of an eye. It went from soft and sweet to desperate and needy. You didn’t know if you had changed the kiss, or he had. But you found yourself clinging to him, moaning against his lips. He pulled you to the side where there was a table. Pushing you up against it, you instantly knew what to do. You hopped you, spreading your legs and pulling him between them. One of his hands fell to your thigh then back to your hips as he held you tightly. His other hand left you hip, coming up to rest on the side of your neck. In a slow and sensual way, he brushed all your hair away from the right side of your neck. You broke the kiss, gasping for air. But Talos seemed to be unable to stop. He pressed kisses down your jaw to your neck, seeming to have planned it since he had moved the hair from that area. You couldn’t help but smirk as you let out a soft moan at the sensation. Turned your head, your eyes fell on his large ears. Pressing your lips to the tip of the pointed ear, you pressed soft, open mouth kisses and immediately got a response. His entire body trembled as he growled against his skin. But the moment was ruined when your eyes fell on the windows and you noticed there was no longer a flame in the distance. “Shit.” You gasped, jumping as Talos immediately stepped back, afraid he had went too far. His eyes filled with fear as you jumped off the table, but he was thankful to see you weren’t angry or upset at him. “Wheres Carol?” You nod to the window, still panting slightly. Talos looks out and realizes why you had jumped. “Im right here.” Carols voice made you jump again as you see her walk into the room. She smiles but, judging from her innocent dementor, she didn’t know what had just happened. “Everything okay?” “Yes, fine.” You nod, answering a little too quickly. But Talos was able to regain his composure a lot quicker than you were. “We were just going to get some thing to drink. Do you want anything?” He asked Carol, who thought for a moment before shaking her head. “No, im going to bed.” She tells you before leaving after bidding you a good night. Once the door was closed, you immediately relaxed with an audible sigh. Talos let out a small chuckle as you turned to him. You raise an eyebrow. “I didn’t know a humans neck was so… sensitive.” He smirks, his eyes darting down to the area he had been giving so much attention to before. “I didn’t realise a Skrulls ears were so sensitive.” You smirk right back at him. “Looks like we both have a lot to learn.” A soft chuckle left talos’ lips as he wraps an arm around your waist. To your surprise, he leans forward and presses his forehead to yours. It wasn’t a gesture you were use to, but something about it felt really intense and loving. A soft purr came from Talos as you looked up and saw he had his eyes closed. In that moment, you knew it was a sign of affection. Smiling, you place your hands on his shoulders, gently nuzzling your head against his own for a moment. “Now, about that drink?” You asked as he pulled away. “I have some supplies in my quarters.” Talos glances to the door, as if checking no one had snuck in during the intimate moment. “Perfect.” You giggle, pulling away so he could lead you to the door. Whatever Carol had ‘interrupted’, you were very keen to get it right back on track.

[ashercvans-blog]

moody music - asher & aiden

Basically: Asher gets music lessons from his ex Aiden, but plot twist, he didn’t know he’d be getting lessons from Aiden and they don’t actually go over the lesson.  Warnings: None. ** Occurs before the big Brad and Asher argument.

Asher knew how to play the piano and the trumpet, but he's always wanted to try his hand at guitar. It seemed like everyone and their mother's stripper knew how to play, and he figured he might as well try his hand at it. Besides, Brad was mad at him still, Phoebe was at school, and he had a day off; might as well do it now, was his reasoning. So, because Asher's lazy, Roger Kipton searched for music teachers to send to his son. He had texted Asher a few days ago that he found someone and they'd be over today, so Asher had spent his afternoon tidying up his house, hiding stray pairs of boxers and cleaning the sink, putting Phoebe's toys away and making sure the cat's litter box was clear. First impressions are important, y'know? Asher decided to make cookies, too, for his teacher, because why not. He forgot momentarily that he sucked at cooking, and it was when he was pulling a smoking tray of black cookies out of his oven when the doorbell rang. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, okay," he swore to himself, throwing the tray away and waving a hand in the air to fan away the clouds of smoke. "Coming!" He shouted at the door. "I tried baking and it didn't work so please ignore the s-" His sentence stopped as soon as he opened the door and saw Aiden standing on the other side. If Aiden were to squint, he'd be able to see Asher's soul leaving his body and his palm instantly starting to sweat. What was he doing here? "Um." 

Aiden felt like he should've known what he was getting himself into, except he'd been so busy that thinking about anything more than once until the moment it was about to happen just usually didn't happen. When Roger Kipton of all people had asked him for guitar lessons, he should've put the pieces together; that Asher had wanted to learn guitar but Aiden had never gotten around to teaching him, that Asher's dad probably hadn't moved since the last time he'd gone to Asher's house, and that Asher would probably always be under his dad's wing. It all clicked as he knocked on the door, and then wished he would've realized before he'd knocked so he could just walk away - text Asher's dad and tell him he randomly decided to move again or that he was being arrested so he'd never have to hear from him again. Upon first look Asher looked... downright tired, and flustered. The house smelled like burnt cookies, which wasn't surprising because Aiden had always had to pry a spatula out of Asher's hand. He pushed the thought away immediately. "Uh..." He wasn't sure if both of them not knowing how to react was better or worse. "... Uh..." Still speechless, he held up his guitar case, as if it held an explanation (it sort of did). "You know, uh-." His words were forced and aborted. "This doesn't have to happen, I can just..." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, worrying at his bottom lip. 

"Why're y-" Asher was frowning, eyes watering slightly from the smoke. And then Aiden lifted his guitar case, and while it took Asher a few seconds to piece it together, the moment it happened felt like a train immediately crashed into him. "Holy shit, are you m– no, there's no way my dad would hire you to– what the hell... Um. Okay." Asher pushed a hand through his hair, head canted up to the ceiling as he took a deep breath before looking at Aiden (who was still a few inches taller than Asher to the point that he had to look up at him). "Okay. So. It's been how many years since we've last spoken? Five? Six? Whatever. It's been a fuck long amount of time but we are, like, adults now. Mature adults who can handle this. There is no reason why we can't handle this." It'd be more convincing and maybe even inspiring if Asher's voice wasn't hesitant the entire time. This was his first relationship ever standing across from him. His first love, the second person to ever have sex with him and then the only person to do so for over a year; Aiden was a lot to Asher and always would be. So this was weird, okay? He's justified in rambling. "Come in, I guess." He held the door open, adding, "sorry for the smoke. I wanted to be a good student, or whatever, and make food, but I c– I don't know why I'm explaining myself, you know I can't cook. Point is, I tried." He shrugged, heading past the kitchen and living room and down a few hallways until he got to a spare room with nothing but a piano tucked into a corner and his trumpet case. "We can practice here." 

Aiden's eyebrows went up as he listened to Asher, even though he seemed to be convincing himself more than Aiden at this point. There were a lot of residual feelings that Aiden didn't particularly want to deal with, but him and Asher had gotten along fine until Bryan had barged into the picture and Aiden didn't see a need to be mad at Asher. He'd made a choice, and it'd taken Aiden a while to accept that choice, but the point still remained. Still, he didn't want to be around Asher if it was going to make him uncomfortable. "Hmm, so does that mean you're a teacher's pet?" As he followed Asher inside, shaking his head as he went over to the windows to crack them open so that the smoke would disperse. He glanced around the room Asher led him into, humming as he set his guitar case down, shrugging his backpack off his shoulders. "So, good news is you already know how to read music. Bad news is, you already know how to read music, which means you'll probably be impatient with yourself." 

Asher shrugged, leaving the room to grab two chairs for them. He answered from the other room, "I don't think baking cookies makes me a teacher's pet. Not now, at least. But if I was younger and you happened to be my teacher then, too, then yeah, I'd probably pull out all the stops to impress you." He reappeared with two chairs, both half his size, ungracefully setting them down onto the floor. Asher snorted at what Aiden said, waving him off with his hand. "C'mon, Crenshaw. It's not like playing the guitar is going to be hard or anything. You just hold the thingy and – pull the stringies. Or is it called plucking? Strumming? Whatever. You just touch the little string things and hold the other string things and it works and sounds pretty." Asher had mastered the piano when he was three and the trumpet when he was seven (both facts he had told Aiden before when they were dating – Asher had honestly told him everything about him, from his favorite color when he was eleven to the day's he visited his mom's grave) it was safe to say he was a bit cocky about his musical abilities. 

Aiden hummed, but didn't say he disagreed. Asher would definitely be in more of a tizzy if he weren't talking to Aiden. "Plucking and strumming are different, but both of those, yeah." He smiled in spite of himself; leave it to Asher to overestimate himself. Then again, he wasn't tooting his own horn for nothing. "Alright." He took a seat, cracking open his guitar case and pulling it from the depths, setting it in his lap. "Basic guitar anatomy-" he jumped right in because he had nothing else he wanted to ask Asher about, "body, neck, head, frets, strings, base board." He tapped each part of his guitar as he spoke. "Mostly you work with the frets and strings, sometimes body comes into play. Really only mention the base board because when a string breaks you take the screws out of the base board to change them out. Doesn't happen often, unless you don't know how to tune it and pull the strings too tight." He shifted the guitar in his grip and held it out to Asher. 

Asher was smart. He knew it, people who knew him knew it. He was a chemistry major who made all the big, fancy American universities think he was attending on their full ride international scholarships, only to end up attending Austen's because of Aiden and a baby mama. But now, sitting there, and listening to all this musical stuff had his brain drawing a blank. Music was not like quarks. He blinked, slowly accepting the guitar. And now he felt dumb in front of Aiden, which was embarrassing, and shit, now he was turning red. "Fuck my father, honestly," he muttered more to himself than anything. "Oh, um, by the way," he looked up from the guitar, "can these lessons, like... Stay between us? I know that sounds so sketchy and with that whole Bryan Brad thing I'm sure you've heard about, it doesn't do much to boost my character, but. Brad knows you're my ex and I didn't know my ex would be giving me guitar lessons – which, as stated before, doesn't make me, like, uncomfortable or anything – but you are and I know he's gonna' get, like, super insecure and pissy about the whole thing and I don't want him to have it out for you like he does for Bryan, so. Not that you can't defend yourself or anything. But, like. I mean, doesn't this whole thing remind you of, like, some soap opera type shit? Past lovers reconnect without the spouse knowing?" Asher sighed, tacking on a bit softer, "if this whole thing with me and the shit I always find myself into makes you uncomfortable, or you want out, don't feel bad in leaving. I'll be – it'll be fine." 'Cause truth is, Asher was happy to see Aiden. And yes, he's married, he knows, but Aiden was his first love, okay? And he hasn't seen him in years, even though they left off on an awful foot. Is it so bad that he's simply happy to see him? 

Aiden blinked owlishly, raising an eyebrow as Asher began to ramble. He definitely had heard about the drama going on with Bryan - if Bryan was in the picture there usually was some drama to be had. Aiden didn't want to make things difficult in Asher's marriage. The only thing he'd ever wanted was for Asher to be happy, but hearing him ramble he wasn't sure if that was the case. He wasn't sure if he was mad or upset or what, but he was definitely feeling something. Not at Asher, but Asher's situation. "It doesn't make me uncomfortable. But I don't want to get between you and Brad's relationship, either." Considering the way things seemed to be going, he just might mess things up without even meaning to do so. "... I'll keep it between us if you want, but you really should talk to Brad about it. It'll probably make it worse if he finds out on his own." He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. "... It's up to you, Asher. I-..." His feelings weren't important here. Asher was married. He'd been married for a while. "What do you want? I'll pack up and leave right now if you want." 

"No, don't go," Asher immediately objected, clearing his throat soon after and looking back down at the guitar. "It's, y'know," he shrugged, "nice to see you again, is all. This might give us a chance to, like, I don't know, bond? I know last time we talked was rough, so. Maybe we need this, y'know? I can try baking cookies for you again." He looked up at Aiden again, giving him a small smile. "Brad... He might have an issue but don't worry, I'll take care of it if there is. No one's getting punched on my watch, not this time." He was not having another one of his relationships get hit in the face. Asher cleared his throat once more. "What about you? Do you have a special someone who might get a little weird upon finding out you're here with me?" Because last time Asher checked, which was years ago, Aiden was with Evan, and this whole thing was kind of sketchy, after all. 

Aiden chewed back a smile, looking away at the same time Asher did. "Yeah... I wasn't in a great place. I'm sorry about that." He was in a better place - or he tried to be. "Mm... maybe nix the cookies, unless you let me help you." He laughed, and then swallowed it. He wasn't sure how comfortable he was, if Brad was going to have a problem with him being here. It was Asher's and Brad's home. He scoffed a little, shaking his head and trying to find somewhere in the room to look. "No. Single as the day we met." Which was very. "Unless you count my dog, but you probably don't." He pulled out his phone to show Asher his screensaver of Lilo. "She just turned 6." 

Asher waved his hand in dismissal. "No need to apologize. You had your reasons and I should've been more understanding." Where would they be if Asher hadn't been so bitter about Aiden leaving him for Australia? Would Asher have a different last name? For the first time in years, Asher laughed along with Aiden, saying between giggles, "you can help, yeah, that'd be great, but we, and this house, for that matter, would probably be better off with me just handing you the ingredients and whatnot." Asher's smile died as he heard Aiden's answer. Oh. "Oh. I thought you and E- never mind," he quickly scrapped his sentence, because it was none of his business as of now; if Aiden wanted to delve more into the topic, then Asher would gladly listen. The smile returned when he saw Aiden's dog. "Holy shit. What the fuck. She's so cute. Hang on," Asher gently laid the guitar down and hopped off the chair, leaving for a few minutes and then returning with his (technically Brad's) small dog, Charlie, in one arm and his cat, Fuzz Lightyear. "These are my non-human babies. Say hi to Aiden," he cooed, letting them down and watching Charlie immediately scamper to Aiden. "I love how productive this guitar lesson is going," Asher chuckled, sitting back in his chair. But maybe that was a good thing, that they're enjoying each other's company so much that the original purpose for being together has been pushed aside. It's leaps and bounds from where they left off. 

Aiden shook his head. "No. I still need to apologize, trust me." He waved his hand back, huffing out a sigh. "Yeah, that might be best. Don't want to burn the house down or something." With how strong the smell of smoke was in the house Brad would probably thank Aiden later - maybe. It wasn't surprising to him that Asher immediately steered the topic away from Evan, but he shook his head hastily. "No, it's okay. It wasn't dramatic or anything. We just worked better as friends." Himself and Evan had stilled talked for a while, but just didn't have much in common and Aiden did almost nothing so it was hard to talk. And once Evan had moved they couldn't even just sit in companionable silence together. "He's married now! To Andrea, which-..." He shut his eyes, shook his head, then moved on himself. He shoved his phone back in his pocket, jaw dropping open as Asher brought the animals into the room, scooting off the chair to the floor as the dog wiggled over to him. Why he'd initially come was completely forgotten. "Oh, hello! Hi there, buddy!" He let the dog sniff at him and then continued to pet it, minding the cat as it approached him more hesitantly. Then he began to pet the cat too, baby-talking each of them and eventually just lying on the floor as he doted over them. "Oh, shit. Yeah." He cleared his throat, but didn't get up from the floor. 

Asher smiled softly at Aiden's apparent rage at whoever Andrea was, commenting, "I take it that she's not your favorite person." He sat next to Aiden on the floor, not knowing whether to pat his legs like ol' pals might do as he said, "it's okay. You're an amazing, talented, incredible person, one of my favorite people ever despite everything, and it's his loss if he doesn't get to have you." Asher watched, a mix of fond and proud-parent like, as his pets lost their shit over Aiden. He'd take a picture if he didn't think Aiden probably wouldn't like that. "Are you free next week? We can probably do an actual lesson then. And maybe, in the mean time, your dog and my dog can meet and be best pet pals? I dunno', seems like a cute idea to me, at least, and it means we get to spend some more time with each other, too." 

Aiden shook his head. "No. She's just-..." Dumb? Annoying? Anything Aiden had to say wasn't nice, so he didn't really want to say it, especially since he was still cool with Evan. "I think he deserves better, that's all." It was easy to think but hard to explain. He blushed, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's fine, peach. Really," he insisted, and then seemed to realize what he said and blushed harder, backtracking; "Ash. Asher. Uh-." Fuck. There went that, he guessed. "Yeah, I'm free. Well... Technically not, since this is supposed to be lesson time, but you know. Yeah." He glanced up at the forgotten guitar, but not for long because the ones were begging for his attention the moment he took his eyes off of them. "I think Lilo would like some friends. I haven't been to the dog park in a while." He felt kind of guilty about it, but he'd been locked up in his flat writing music and aside from just going on simple walks with Lilo and teaching he didn't get out much. 

Asher could only nod to show his support. And then peach came up and, well. It certainly was a surprise, hearing that nickname, and for most people it'd make them feel awkward, but no, Asher started laughing because, "holy shit, I can't believe you called me peach back then 'cause of my ass. That's amazing, Aidennn." Peach was what Aiden called him, and Asher used to always call him by his first name, but would drag out the 'den' and use a sing-song voice. It was effective for when he wanted affection. He scrunched his nose up gleefully at seeing Aiden red, glad he officially now wasn't the only one who blushed horribly in the half hour they were together. "Sounds good. Should we meet here again? Or, y'know, someplace else?" Asher was kind of hoping they'd pick a different location; Brad's work schedule shifted constantly, and Asher never wanted to reach the day where his husband came home to Asher with yet another ex. "They'll have a little doggy date," Asher smiled, reaching over to scratch behind Charlie's ear. "We'll be like proud parents, watching our children and making sure they don't get too touchy. That's what my dad would always do when you came over to ours." 

Aiden hardly resisted the urge to reach over and nudge Asher in retaliation. He shrugged his shoulders up, puffing his cheeks out. "I put you in as the peach emoji in my phone and it just stuck," he explained. It was true enough; the first time he'd actually met Asher and had started dealing to him he hadn't remembered his name, so he'd put him as the peach emoji so he'd remember Asher was the cute guy with the nice butt. He wasn't sure what it was in Asher's voice that made it sound like he was hopeful they'd meet somewhere else. He decided to oblige. "We can do it at my place if you want." He'd have to clean, and organize his stuff so that Asher wouldn't know that he lived like the human embodiment of a trash can - Chinese take out and sheet music and all. "Your dad used to watch me like a hawk. As if I were going to snatch you up and get you into drugs." He winked. 

"Cute," Asher hummed. "You were always 'boyfriend', but in all caps and, like, five hearts. It's embarrassing, thinking back at it now." Aiden was his first, though, so. Asher didn't really know, back then, all the dating ethics and what was cringe-worthy. But he was seventeen, he's practically expected to be weird at that age. "Can you believe that if Daniel had never sent me to get weed from you, we'd probably never have met? Crazy shit, innit?" They would've never met, because Asher and Aiden come from wildly different backgrounds, and Asher would probably have just gone to a different school. It was mind boggling to think about. "Do you still live in your apartment?" While Aiden's apartment was a bit old and in a sketchy neighborhood, it was home to Asher. He spent so many nights there with Aiden, finishing homework together and talking about the future and watching TV and baking food together and then getting baked and having sex. If Aiden still lived in the apartment, it'd be a huge throwback for Asher, walking through the front door again. He'd feel seventeen all over again. "He really did," Asher smiled, lying on his back as he reminisced, "remember when he gave you, like, a two hour speech just on how he expected you to treat me?" Jeez, Roger Kipton was so overbearing on the both of them. He required Aiden's number and texted the both of them constantly whenever they were out with each other, and kept an eye on them in the nearby room whenever they'd chill in Asher's living room or bedroom. Imagine his shock when he found out they weren't using protection. "But he really did love you, y'know. Once we hit one year he honestly considered you part of the family." That is, until they broke up in a heart shattering way. But no need to bring that up. "Loved you enough to probably not kill you as fast if he were to find out you were a dealer." 

Aiden grinned, shaking his head. "No, it's not embarrassing. I think it's cute." He'd been colossally lucky to be with Asher; he doesn't think anyone he's ever met has loved him that much - not in the way Asher loved him, at least. And he'd gone and fucked it all up. He think he'll always be mad at himself about it, but you couldn't cry over spilled milk. He had to live with even the bad choices he made. "Yeah. You came strolling into my shit neighborhood with your expensive shoes. I thought you were going to get your ass kicked for sure." Not that anyone would ever mess with Asher if he was talking to Aiden - he'd lived in that neighborhood for a while and people had learned not to mess with him very quickly. It mostly had to do with his other ex but... he wasn't eager to think about it. "No, I've moved since then. Cleaned up my act, got a real job and a nice place. It has a balcony and everything. And a tub." Those were things Aiden hadn't been afforded growing up, and things he couldn't afford when he'd first gotten his own place with said other ex. "I can send you my new address, though," he nodded. "Mm, I like your dad, though. He really cares about you." It had come out of left-field for Aiden, who grew up pretty invisible except to run to the corner store to get booze. Hearing that Mr. Kipton had thought of him as family tore at Aiden's heartstrings in a way he wasn't prepared for. "Y-yeah..." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat as he laid down too, curling up and feeling his heavy heart lighten a little as the cat immediately sat on his face. "God... like, I know I fucked up. But sometimes the weight just resettles on me." He took a deep breath. "You guys were my family, too. I'm so dumb..." He hugged the cat to his chest, burying his face in his fur as he tried to recover. 

"You think everything is cute," Asher countered with a smile, watching as Charlie sniffed at Aiden's feet. He closed his eyes as Aiden talked about their first encounter, remember the whole situation perfectly. He'd been scared shitless, being in a sketchy neighborhood like Aiden's, about to ask some guy he didn't know for substance he had never been exposed to before, only to meet one of the most handsome men he'd ever come across. "We were such opposites yet worked so well," Asher mused, feeling warm and golden and soft inside. It was nice, being away from all the Austen's drama to be right here, talking about the times where he was indescribably happy. Asher's eyes snapped open, though, when he heard that Aiden moved, and he sat up, looking down at him. "You have a tub now?" He gasped, eyes bright because "holy shit, look at you, living all luxuriously! A tub, wow. I'm so proud of you." And it was all genuine; countless times he had offered to buy Aiden a three-story house, anything to get him out of the apartment, so hearing now that he's in a better place honestly made Asher's day. The happiness died down as the mood was brought to a somber, tense tone. Asher frowned, reaching over to squeeze Aiden's hand softly in reassurance. "You're still family," he told him softly, earnestly. "Anytime you need anything, you can come to me or my dad and we'll take care of you, honest. You were my first, Aiden. My first relationship and my first love. Those never leave a person. You'll always have a special place in my heart 'cause of that. My dad will always view you differently than he will Brad because of that. You're always welcome to come home to the Kiptons." 

Aiden pouted, but Asher was probably right. At least a little bit. Asher had always read him really easily, even when Aiden thought he had his walls up. Maybe that's just because Aiden had a bad poker face or something. "Yeah, I remember when you texted me. I was so confused I thought you were high already." He snorted, propped his head up on his hand. Everything with Asher had always been easy - being with him, loving him.. Aiden had to swallow his thoughts real quick. A feeling he didn't particularly want to feel started to bubble in his chest as Asher took his hand, but he squeezed it back anyways, even though he was sure that he'd probably smack himself for it later. "Yeah, a tub," is all he managed, voice still kind of wobbly and quiet. Listening to Asher talk wasn't really helping, but maybe he needed to hear it. With Jaxson always moving around because of her job Aiden had almost no constant in his life but his dog. And he liked it that way sometimes, but he really did need someone else in the picture. "Oh? How does your dad view Brad then?" He snickered slightly, peeking up from his where his face was still buried in cat fur. "Sorry, I'm grateful, really. I just don't feel like crying right now," he laughed weakly. 

"Holy shit, remember the first time I got high?" What a mess. Asher had been fumbling, trying to copy every move Aiden made and not burn himself or drop anything, and within moments, he was high and red-eyed and giggling to Aiden's neck about nothing. Needless to say, Asher loved bragging to his friends about his college boyfriend who was a drug dealer. Asher shrugged, leaning back down on his back. "He views him as a dad would view his son-in-law but, I meant, like– he's not my first, y'know? You are. It goes back to what I was saying, about that whole you never forget your first thing. So if you two were in a room he'd see Brad and view him as my husband, but see you and view you as my first everything, as the standard he set for Bryan and Brad. If that makes sense? I dunno', the smoke from the cookies did something to my brain, I'm sure." Asher smiled softly at Aiden's apology, saying, "it's fine, cry in Fuzz Lightyear's fur if you need to. He's here for you too, y'know." And then, "do you want to bake the cookies now? Cookies make everyone feel better, and I don't like seeing you sad." 

Aiden snickered. "Yeah. You were a mess. I would've helped you if you'd said something." He shook his head, smiling fondly. He also wouldn't have let Asher smoke so much, but it had been too late when he realized all of that. "I'd just assumed you'd smoked before since you knew Daniel." It wasn't an off-base assumption, really. He also remembered one time coming to get Asher from school so they could get pizza and remembered feeling like a huge creep around a bunch of secondary school kids, nineteen going on twenty years old and towering over almost everyone in all his six foot one inch glory. He'd been questioning his choices as a person, really, until Asher came out to meet him. "Mmhmm..." It was weird to hear that term attached to someone concerning Asher - son-in-law - and it felt heavy. So was the fact that Brad was Asher's husband. That was weird, too. He'd dated Asher for a whole year before he'd left, and hadn't thought twice about marrying him. He was too engrossed in other things - too used to people leaving, and too used to leaving himself. They were young, too. Marriage had always felt like something for future him to deal with. But he'd loved Asher. He still did, but it was inappropriate to say it. And unfair. So he said nothing. "Must've set the bar pretty low." He wasn't sure if he was being down on himself or down on Bryan and Brad. Well, maybe not Brad. Aside from being kind of jealous Aiden had nothing against him, even if Brad did have an attitude towards him when they'd first met. "Yeah. Maybe we should just make cookies," he agreed. 

Asher knocked the side of his foot against Aiden's. "Nah. I wanted to impress you." Asher always felt like he had to, because after all, he was a last year who somehow managed to get into a relationship with a college boy; he had nightmares about the day Aiden might realize Asher was just a nerd. Asher scoffed, shaking his head. "Set the bar low?" He repeated, amused. "Aiden, love, I came home after every date and talked to my dad for hours about how much fun I had and about how in love with you I was and how I'd been practicing writing 'Asher Crenshaw'. You gave Bryan and Brad a pretty high standard to match. Don't underestimate yourself, yeah? You're incredible." Sure, Aiden's leaving to Australia was the main cause for their split, but still, he had been a fantastic boyfriend. Asher stood up, brushed off animal fur from the back of his jeans and held his hand out for Aiden to take. "C'mon," he grinned, "let's bake cookies and enjoy each other's company." 

Aiden hummed, smiling slightly and bumping Asher's foot back. "Well, you just seemed silly, instead." It was true. Asher never had to impress Aiden, but it was kind of nice that he'd wanted to. No one had ever gone out of their way for him before at that point. He flushed, burying his face into his arm in embarrassment. "Well, I appreciate you not telling your dad how baked I got you during some of those dates, peach. He would've murdered me for sure." Aiden did really try with Asher; he wanted to do things right that time. Granted, he'd still messed up. But while it had lasted... god. He sighed, detaching himself from the cat and reaching for Asher's hands, pulling himself to his feet. "Okay. Sounds good."

[goodlucktai]

You don’t have to say ‘I love you’ to say ‘I love you’

MP100 Valentines Week

  Day 8; Confessions or first kiss pairing: terumob

Story tag

x

Teruki's bag is waiting for him outside his front door when he gets home, a small bundle of fresh wildflowers nestled carefully on top -- and as he comes closer, he can feel the powerful impression of Shigeo’s affection as clearly as if Shigeo is standing right next to him, wrapping the sentiment around his shoulders like a borrowed coat.

“Oh,” he whispers for absolutely no one to hear, handling the flowers as carefully as spun glass; breathless with a feeling too heavy for him to hold on his own, and too precious for him to put down. “He’s always two steps ahead of me.”

It’s more of a comfort than anything else, and Teruki crouches right there in the outer hall even though his muscles ache and even his eyes are sore, digging his phone out of his bag to send Shigeo a text that says Thank you. 

And then, before he can rethink it, because Shigeo deserves better than a second-rate coward, Teruki sends another text right after the first that says Can I see you tomorrow?

The flowers go in a glass of water by the window, his dirty clothes in the hamper – and Teruki should shower, at the very least wash his face or do something with his hair, but he's too tired to do more than climb into a pair of pajamas and fall into bed. His body is exhausted and his head hurts. There's an unnatural heat curling under his skin that probably should worry him, and a jittery feeling keeping him on the wrong side of consciousness, keeping his fingers curled around his phone.

It’s almost ten o’clock on a school night, but the reply he's waiting for comes after a few minutes: 

Yes.

Teruki rolls over, pinning the phone to his chest in the cradle of his hands, and laughs breathlessly. He'll make things right – he will. He can't make a whole field of flowers bloom for Shigeo, but he can make a gesture of his own, one just as beautiful, he knows he can. It'll be the most romantic thing in the world, because anything less than that wouldn't be enough to convey even a fraction of these impossible feelings.

He falls asleep riding the backs of bright and brilliant ideas, and sleeps straight through his alarm in the morning.

“-- knew something was wrong. He’s very sick. What should I do?”

A hand on his forehead peels him slowly out of a dreamless sleep. Muted sunlight spills through the curtains at the window, and his eyes are hard to force open. Sweaty fringe sticks to his face, and the world tips and sways drunkenly when he tries to lift his head. 

“Shigeo?” he says stupidly, even though he knows better. It's a school day, isn’t it? And then his stomach gives a nasty lurch, and in the second it takes to bend over the side of the bed a wastebasket has seemingly materialized in front of him. 

Fingers comb damp hair back from his face, unfailingly gentle, cool against his flushed skin. Teruki leans into them, eyes half-lidded, and wonders what time it is.

“-- said no, I’m staying here. I’m not leaving him, shishou.”

There’s only one ‘shishou’ that Teruki knows, and he lifts his head so fast that he blacks out for a second or two. 

“Master Reigen?” Teruki asks. It comes out in a jumble, like word salad. He doesn’t let that discourage him. “Tell him -- ask him -- I need Shigeo. I’m supposed to see Shigeo today, I said I’d -- “

“That doesn’t matter,” the voice says, and it’s pointed towards him this time, a little closer, a little softer. The wastebasket is lifted away from him, and a second gentle hand joins the first, easing him back down into bed. Teruki clings to consciousness stubbornly. “Just go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when the medicine arrives.”

What? No, no -- 

“It does matter,” he contests hotly, and his vision is swimming but he thinks he can just vaguely make out a pale face floating close by. He glares at it. “Of course it does, what -- what else matters? I have to see him. I’ll go find him on my own if you won’t help me.”

“Of course you will,” the voice says, and a hand settles on his forehead, heavy with something purple-and-blue, something familiar that sends thoughts of sleep swirling through all his waking ones. Teruki’s traitorous eyes droop the rest of the way closed almost immediately. “Rest first, Teru. Shigeo can wait.”

But that isn’t fair, because Shigeo has waited already. He’s been waiting all this time and now he’ll have to wait even longer, and sooner or later he’ll get tired of waiting, won’t he? 

Teruki’s whole body hurts, but there’s a weight on his heart that hurts more. He's too used to companionship to lose it now. His apartment feels lonely when it’s empty, and he’s glad he has people to miss when they’re not around, and Shigeo ruined him for being alone anymore. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

“You won’t be,” the voice says, impossibly. It’s the last thing Teruki is aware of before he gives in to sleep. “Not ever.”

The next time Teruki wakes up, he’s not in his apartment. The unfamiliar bed is warm, the smell of detergent clinging to worn-soft sheets, and Teruki feels groggy and wrung-out and impossibly weighted as he forces himself upright. 

Almost immediately, a broad hand settles against his forehead. 

“Finally,” Reigen says, leaning back into the chair drawn up beside the bed. His expression gives nothing away, but his appearance is a little more rumpled than usual. “Your fever broke a few hours ago, but you’ve been sleeping like the dead since we brought you here."

Reigen’s apartment? “When was that?” he asks hoarsely, trying to keep up. 

“Yesterday. The morning after you left here in the first place. If you were this sick, you should have said something then, instead of taking off on your own.” The psychic’s tone is somehow both mild and stern. “What is it with you espers, anyway? Will you break out in hives from asking for help?”

It was the jump, Teruki realizes belatedly, in the functional part his mind. Even with as much as he’s used to teleporting in small increments, the human body isn’t designed to fold through space the way his did; especially not in such a big way, and especially not when his physical and mental stores were already wrung dry after an afternoon of rigorous sparring.

Qi depletion, probably. Hopefully nothing worse. He relays as much to Reigen, watching anxiously as the man drags a hand down his face with a ragged sigh.

“You kids are going to be the death of me, you know that?”

And Teruki can’t help it. His face crumples, eyes burning -- so frustrated with himself he can’t stand it, for making problems for Reigen, for making Shigeo wait and then never showing up -- and god, if Shigeo didn’t hate him before he does now for sure. 

“Oh, hell,” Reigen is saying, too quickly. “Come on, don’t do that. I didn’t mean it.”

“No, it’s -- I’m sorry,” Teruki mutters, fisting the blankets over his knees tightly in shaking hands. Staring carefully at his hands, forcing back hot tears. “I don’t mean to -- to be such an inconvenience. Especially after everything you’ve already done for me. So thank you for this, but I can -- “

“'Go home now’? Not happening.” Reigen’s eyes are heavy on the side of his face. “Mob would come after us both.”

Teruki’s head snaps up. It doesn’t do wonders for his headache, but he hardly cares, blurting, “Shigeo was here?”

“Up until a little while ago. He’s been all but camped by your side for the last two days.” At that point, Reigen seems to remember the tray canted precariously on the corner of his computer desk, and reaches back to relieve it of a sweating glass of water. Teruki numbly lets the glass be folded into his hands, riveted to Reigen’s every word. “I’m amazed you slept through most of what you did. You really must have been out of it.”

He vaguely remembers the sensation of an aura-heavy hand on his forehead, soothing him to peaceful sleep through fever and full-body aches. He covers his mouth, heat rising in his face.

“He was in my apartment.”

“Yeah, he was.” Reigen sounds some combination of exhausted and amused. “We had to relocate because he almost went next door to pick a fight with your neighbors. They were being “too loud,”” he explains, crooking his fingers in exaggerated air-quotes to Teruki’s mounting disbelief, “and “disturbing your rest.” I barely managed to convince him that ruining your relations with the other tenants in your building wouldn’t be remotely helpful to you in the long-run. And I mean barely.”

Teruki gapes. Shigeo’s capable of being irritable, but to outright confront someone, or try to, over something so petty? That doesn’t sound like him at all. Unless he’s so angry or annoyed that he hit the limit on that internal counter of his, Teruki realizes, with a sinking sense of dread, and there’s been nothing to bring him back down.

“Anyway, Mob was driving me crazy, so I sent him to pick up the schoolwork you’ve missed,” Reigen says, rising to his feet. He winces, pressing the heels of his hands into the small of his back, and Teruki is abruptly, acutely ashamed of his seat in Reigen’s bed. The man waves a hand, as if reading his mind, and adds archly, “When he gets back, he’s your problem.”

How something so innocuous can sound so much like a threat, Teruki has no idea. 

Reigen bullies him into eating a full bowl of soup and finishing a second glass of water and then helps him to the bathroom for a shower. “I can sleep on the couch,” Teruki insists at that point, veering stubbornly toward the sagging sofa in the living room. Reigen looks like he's holding onto the last vestiges of his patience as a flagging Teruki climbs gracelessly onto the worn cushions despite the man telling him “no, don’t, the bed is fine, will you just --”

“This is exactly why I’m not a father,” he gripes under his breath, tucking a pillow under Teruki’s head and drawing a duvet up over his shoulders with unending care. “Goodnight, brat.”

Teruki forgets to be worried, and falls asleep almost immediately. Wondering what he did to deserve all these kind people he has now.

The next time he wakes up, the room is painted red and gold with the sunset that leans through the window. There are muted voices in the kitchen -- Serizawa and Reigen making dinner, if Teruki had to guess -- and a familiar aura very close by. 

“There you are,” Shigeo says softly. It’s better than a bucket of ice water dumped over his head in waking Teruki up right away. He bolts upright, his heart a hot lump in throat, but Shigeo’s eyes are a pretty brown in the warmly lit room, and his expression is open and caring, and none of the itchy agitation Reigen described seems to be present at all. “I hope you’re feeling better. You were very sick.”

"I -- no, I’m fine. More than fine. Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.”

"I was happy to.”

Something drops a long, leafy tendril on Shigeo’s shoulder, and Teruki follows it up to the hanging plant over their heads. 

The flowers are blooming. 

All of Reigen’s potted plants are flowering, bursting into life larger than their small confines and covering the flat surfaces of the living room and the windowsills in earthy greens. It’s more subtle this time than a whole field springing into sudden growth and color, but it’s still breathtaking to watch. 

“I don’t mean to,” Shigeo says abruptly. Misconstruing Teruki’s silence, apparently. Watching him warily, as though waiting for him to disappear again. “It just -- on its own. And they grow. But I can try to not -- “

“Don’t you dare,” Teruki says, absolutely forbidding. Mostly playful, partly serious, he adds, “It’s the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen you do. Even moreso than the snow.”

“You thought the snow was impressive?”

“Shigeo! Of course!”

“You didn’t say anything,” Shigeo points out -- and he’s smiling now, which is what Teruki was aiming for all along. “I thought maybe you thought it was boring and you were just trying to be nice.”

“No way,” Teruki insists. “I love everything you do.” 

“That’s good,” Shigeo says peacefully, “since most of the things I do seem to be for you.”

And nevermind the fact that he’s in rumpled pajamas, wrapped in a thick blanket, with probably the worst bedhair Seasoning City has ever seen. Nevermind how cinematic he wanted this moment to be, how perfect it was every time he closed his eyes and dared to dream about it. 

Because there’s a familiar tug in his chest, one that has never steered him wrong, pushing him bravely forward -- psychic magnetism, or something close to it, insisting right here, right now.

Teruki reaches out, and catches up both of Shigeo’s hands in both of his own, and blurts, “There’s something I need to tell you. Something -- something important.”

Shigeo smiles at him, full and sweet and slow, and says, “It’s okay, Teru. I know.”

Teruki draws up short, feeling frozen to the spot. Even breathing would be too bold. “You know,” he clarifies cautiously.

“You’ve told me a hundred times already.” Shigeo’s fingers squeeze around his affectionately. “Just not in so many words.”

“Oh,” Teruki whispers helplessly, heart beating a painful tattoo against his breastbone. He can barely see through the haze of heat rising to his face, hands trembling in Shigeo’s calm ones. Their faces are bare inches apart, somehow, and Teruki’s breathing hitches. 

“You can still say it if you want to,” Shigeo offers kindly; but Teruki shakes his head, clinging to Shigeo’s hands, and closes the distance left between their lips with his heart in his throat.

Kissing him is bumpy, a little clumsy, noses getting in the way, teeth knocking. But Teruki is nothing if not a quick study, and Shigeo is nothing if not willing to learn, and Teruki is tugging him up on the couch for a better angle when Reigen’s voice from the kitchen doorway says, “Alright, kids, dinner’s rea -- oh my god.” 

They don’t quite spring apart, but they do lean away from each other to laugh. Dimple is saying something along the lines of “finally, good god, what took you two so long” and Serizawa is hiding a tiny grin behind his hand, and Reigen is ranting: 

“I’m happy for you, but he’s sick, do you want to catch whatever he’s got? Mob? Do you want to bring your brother’s wrath down upon my household? Is that it?”

Already, Shigeo is slipping back under that blanket of careful repression, and it’s something like a cloud passing over the face of the sun. But his eyes are still bright, full mouth still smiling, and Teruki knows where to look to find him again. 

He’s always known, really.

[curiosity-killed]

Free-write 3/2/17

The afternoon sun is high and bright, bouncing gold off the black walls. It’s quiet in the garden, the noise of the city brushed away by the sea breeze, and the river is cold on his feet. He stretches and curls his toes against the cool current. His sandals sit by his red cape, carefully out of the way of the water. The heredem princep can’t attend the parade in soaked clothes.

No one said anything about his feet, though.

He wriggles his fingers into the sun-warmed sand before scooping both his hands forward. The sand slides forward in small hills, fine grains running back against his fingertips. Shaking his hands free, he flattens his palms over both hills and smooths them out by rubbing them down over the sand. He can still hear the hurried footsteps of the citadels’ occupants as they rush here and there within the stone halls. Occasionally, there’s a hushed conversation that hurries away too quickly for him to catch. 

With a contented sigh, Caleb flops onto his back and kicks his feet a little more. The parade is one of his favorites: the whole city flushed red with garlands and flowers, the red cacti flowers threaded into crowns and rouge painted onto every eyelid. Bara had braided glass beads into his hair like little rubies, and when he reaches up to touch them, they’re cool against the heat radiating off his black hair. 

A set of footsteps breaks off from the background, crunching over the pebbled path. Caleb pushes himself up and blinks against the sudden brightness of the sky. A blue aura lingers, but the figure comes into view.

“Mamán!” he shrieks, leaping up.

He scrambles out of the river, nearly tripping over his sandals and cloak. Stumbling forward, he bolts towards her. Mamán crouches as he approaches, arms extended. He hits her with full force and wraps his arms around her neck. Even with the breath knocked out of him from her breastplate, he can feel nothing but startled joy. 

“You’re back!” he says.

Her arms wrap around his torso and squeeze. He squeezes back.

“Hi sweetie,” she says with a laugh. She gives him another squeeze. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too, Mamán,” he says. “Haya said you weren’t going to be back yet. Does that mean you won?”

“Yeah, we won,” she says. “But enough about that. How have you been?”

She pulls away a little, holding him at arm’s length as if to look him over for changes. He’s grown since he last saw her. He hopes she notices.

“Captain Jemma said I’m almost ready to start with a sword,” he says, “and Mateus says Valyn ‘n I are the fastest students he’s had, and House Perduto visited a couple months ago and Lumeira says she’s in love but Bri says that she’s too young to be in love. I think Bri’s right, but Cri says we’re being cynical.”

He pulls a face at that, and Mamán laughs. She tugs him in for another hug, quick and impulsive.

“You have had a busy time,” she says. “And you’ve grown! You’re going to be taller than me, soon.”

He beams. 

“The tailors say I’m going to need all new robes by New Year,” he says.

Mamán snorts and stands. He nearly comes up to her shoulders now.

“I believe that,” she says. “Are you ready for the parade?”

He turns to grab his sandals and cape, fastening the latter on before dropping to the ground to tug on the former. He stands with a bounce once he’s done, and Mamán holds out her hand. He squeezes it, and she responds with two quick pulses. He grins and squeezes three times back.

“Bara put beads in my hair this year,” he says, tilting his head to give her a better view of them.

“Bara – oh, right,” Mamán says. “They look beautiful. You get more beautiful every year.”

He flushes, pleased. Mamán herself is dressed simply, just her armor with a long scarlet cape and red ribbons twisted through the metal wings of her crown. The rouge on her eyelids is offset by thick black kohl, simpler and sharper than that on Caleb’s. 

“Princess Malia said she wouldn’t wear red,” he says, adding, a little more subdued, “I think she’s missing her parents.”

Mamán squeezes his hand, and when he looks up, she has a sad look on her face.

“It has to be hard for her,” she says. “Have you been helping her?”

He nods dutifully. “We eat together most days and we study together after arms. She’s much better at arithmetic than me.”

Mamán nods. She gives him a small smile.

“Good. I’m sure she appreciates having you for a friend,” she says.

He shrugs, uncertain of how to reply. He’s only doing what he’s supposed to, he thinks. There are rumors that he and Malia will be betrothed in the next few years, though he doesn’t like to think about it. It’s too distant, too unreal. They’re friends, nothing less.

“She said she’d teach me embroidery if she got to train in arms with me,” he says instead. “Captain Jemma and Captain Tiramin said they had to talk to you, though.”

Mamán hums, canting her head to one side as they step into the cool shade of the loggia.

“It does seem useful for her to learn,” she concedes. “I’ll speak with the captains.”

Caleb nods. He doesn’t wholly understand what’s happen in Nafyr, but he knows that a war isn’t won with politesse. 

“And you’re just going to be the next Sattel with your art and embroidery, aren’t you?” Mamán says.

Caleb wrinkles his nose but can’t help grinning at the compliment. He wants to say that it’s her he wants to be modeled after, but he doesn’t have the right words.

“Have you been drawing recently?” Mamán asks.

“Some,” he says. “I drew some of the horses yesterday. And Anharad said she’d show me how to make pigments from the right flowers.”

Mamán stiffens, just slightly. She doesn’t like when he brings up Anharad, he knows, but until she gives him a decent reason, he’s not going to stop visiting the gardener. Her hut is one of his favorite havens with its dried herbs and green starters. She’s fun to talk to, too. Her accent and stories are nothing like the polished ones he’s given within the palace.

“That is exciting,” Mamán says evenly.

They’ve entered the palace now, and their steps ring through the Echoing Hall, coming back a little softer off the black walls. Mamán is still stiff, eyes forward, and Caleb chews at his lip. If they would just explain, just tell him why it’s so terrible he spends time with his aunt’s wife – he doesn’t want to upset them, not really. He just doesn’t understand.

“I’m glad you’re back, Mamán,” he offers and squeezes her hand.

She turns to him with a bright smile, like she’s just realized he’s there.

“I’m glad to be back,” she says. “Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t mean to be distracted.”

“It’s alright,” he says. “The crown is a heavy burden.”

It’s something he heard at the last gala, from a Regent who didn’t quite notice the heir apparent standing nearby. Mamán gives him a funny look, like she wants to laugh but is about to cry instead.

“Perhaps,” she says, “but I’m your mamán right now.”

He smiles, because he knows what she she means, how one person can be divided into two. As much as he looks up to Imperator Princep Alir, she is a distant figure of whom he gets only glimpses. Mamán is the tangible person, with her strong arms and gentle smiles.

They stop at the inner gate, where the captains already wait. Jemma and Tiramin are deep in a hushed conversation while Catterik is distracted by a servant. Caleb can’t make out the words, but the servant looks flustered and pleased. They keep looking down at their plain sandals and back up through their lashes. Catterik has a smile like a cat, curled and smug.

“Eminence,” Jemma greets, bowing low.

The effect is instantaneous: Tiramin turns to bow with their arm crossed over their breastplate, and Catterik shifts away from the servant to do the same. The servant nearly prostrates themselves in their haste to bow.

“Rise,” Mamán says. “We don’t want to hold up the parade.”

The captains relax with easy smiles. Tiramin brings two garlands close, the red flowers held delicately in their calloused hands. Mamán takes them both and then pauses. A smile quirks the corner of her lips, and Caleb frowns in confusion. Before he can say anything, Mamán turns to him and extends one of the crowns.

“Here,” she says.

Caleb accepts it, baffled. Mamán kneels before him with a grin and dips her head pointedly. Caleb falters a moment before carefully extending the crown and settling it over her black hair.

“May Victory ride beside you,” he recites.

Mamán smiles and straightens up just enough to settle the second over Caleb’s plainer circlet.

“And may it crown you in scarlet,” she replies.

A grin breaks out across Caleb’s face, a shivery thrill running under his skin at the familiar words. No matter how many years he’s been to this parade, the words never lose their power. He could be a hundred years old, he thinks, and still feel their weight skitter over his nerves.

“Ready?” Mamán asks as she straightens.

She holds out a hand, and Caleb grips it, still smiling.

“Ready,” he says.

Together, hands joined, they walk out into the light.

[crossguild]

Genji doesn’t often fall asleep in the Watchpoint rec room, but he can feel the weight of Lúcio's head on his shoulder, his HUD signalling to him that the television is currently playing reruns of some dubbed Super Sentai series from his childhood. He notes vaguely that at this hour (2 in the morning), they really should be moving to bed so he shifts, gingerly extracting himself from under the blanket covering them both.

Lúcio is stirring awake by the time Genji takes stock of the room– not, in fact, the Watchpoint’s entertainment center, which would easily have been cause for immediate panic if Lúcio didn’t look so relaxed and warm on the couch of it, blinking slowly awake. “Lúcio ,” Genji says softly, knuckles brushing his cheek as he moves in close, “where are we?”

Lúcio groans, nestling further under his covers.

“Lúcio ,” Genji repeats, more insistently, “wake up. What is this place?”

He’s no stranger to losing track of time and location, but that disconnect from his surroundings hasn’t happened in years, not since he’d left Nepal with Zenyatta. The urgency in his voice must also have caught Lúcio’s attention: his eyes snap open, then narrow, expression wary as he sits up.

“Genji?” He knows that unmistakable voice, the cadence, the slight accent rounding Genji’s words. When the tension in Genji’s shoulders drains at the recognition, Lúcio allows himself to relax as well. “What’re you doing?”

Genji looks around, gesturing with his arm at the cozy living room, the open kitchen. “What is this place?”

“It’s uh, the apartment? New York City?” Lúcio stands, allowing the blanket to slip off his shoulders to the floor, shivering slightly as cool air washes over his skin. He steps into the arms Genji extends to him, ears tuned to a soft hum underneath what looks like armor and synthetic muscle. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t remember how we got here,” Genji explains, hands settling on Lucio’s shoulders while the smaller man idly notes that however Genji must have fit himself into that costume, he had to have dropped nearly 15 kilos to do it. “The apartment?”

“Man, I moved in with you.” Gesturing around a space that he’s fairly certain he’s explored every inch of, Lúcio glances up at the underside of Genji’s jaw. “I didn’t know you had a costume like that.”

“Costume,” Genji repeats, stepping away. He makes a conscious effort to ignore the displeased sound Lúcio makes, pushing aside some ingrained impulse to give in to whatever he wants, which at the moment happens to be a living, walking heater– that’s familiar, at least. “What do you mean?”

“Cyborg ninja?”

“I am a cyborg ninja.”

“I knew about the ninja thing,” Lúcio answers, a thin smile on his face, “but if you’re a cyborg I’m gonna have a lot of questions I’m gonna need you to answer.”

“Lúcio ,” says Genji, reaching behind his head and dragging his fingers across the latches to release his visor, “what’s going on?”

“Genji?”

He regards Lúcio’s face, the confusion in his expression, and draws a quick conclusion. Incidents like this weren’t necessarily common in Overwatch, but given the sheer absurdity of the things that Genji’s seen and experienced he’s not one to question the simplest explanation. “I am not the Genji you know,” he says softly. At least, he considers, Lúcio doesn’t look afraid of him. That might be a bit too much for him to take.

“You sound like him,” Lucio agrees. “You act like him. You’re just– he’s not a cyborg, man. Not that there’s anything wrong with being one.”

“Tracer’s chronal accelerator,” Genji sighs, trying not to think too hard about the bomb Lúcio just dropped. He obviously wouldn’t be a cyborg in every conceivable universe, but he’d assumed that it would be the case in most of them, at least. The possibility that he’s the least lucky Genji short of the ones who’d lived short, violent lives and died at Hanzo’s hands isn’t comforting. “I may have been caught in a malfunction.”

“What’s Lena gotta do with this?”

“It looks as though I have switched places with the Genji you know, and he is now in an alternate universe where things are very different.”

Lúcio blinks. He crosses his arms over his chest, then goes to sit back down on the couch. “Oh.”

“You’re not surprised?”

“I mean I’m pretty nerdy,” laughs Lúcio, patting the cushion beside him, “I’ve definitely considered the possibility of multiverses.”

Of course he has. Genji can’t suppress the slow smile that spreads across his face as he joins Lúcio back on the sofa, keeping his hands clasped neatly in his lap. Different reality, but same brilliant, curious Lúcio. The next look Lúcio gives him is anxious, corners of his lips dragging thoughtfully down.

“What’s wrong?”

“Is my Genji gonna be alright?”

Genji’s expression softens, impossibly fond. “He is in good hands.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” says Lúcio, moving as if on reflex to cup his palm over Genji’s cheek, his thumb drawing gently across the largest scar within reach.

Genji doesn’t tell him that the Lúcio at home had said that to him as well, the first time he’d ever taken off the visor in his presence. The knowledge that this isn’t the Lúcio he knows is enough to deter him from leaning into the touch, so familiar and warm that it takes a monumental effort to pull away, one knuckle brushing the hinge of Lúcio's prosthetic knee. “And so have you,” he answers gently. “Even here?”

Lúcio lets his hand fall back to his side, looking sheepish. Genji never did like to be touched by strangers, and at the moment he must qualify as one. “Honestly,” he says, “I think you win this round.”

“Have you met my brother?” Genji asks next. He doesn’t intend to stay long, but Hanzo could be a cause for concern. If Overwatch exists, Lúcio probably isn’t in it– his sleepy trust in the cyborg that had suddenly appeared in his living room is proof enough of that. Still, he’s eased by the idea that this reality is softer, less dangerous, allowing them some semblence of normalcy that Genji had never known. Maybe a pleasant, average life for Lúcio as well.

“He’s one of the roomies.” Gaze flickering to the closed doors of two other rooms, Lúcio flashes him a wry smile. “Uh, I dunno if you know Jesse McCree and Gabriel Reyes, but–”

Genji ponders on that for a moment, deciding he’d really rather not know whose room Hanzo’s sleeping in. “McCree and Reyes?” he repeats. “This place really is different.”

“So what about the Lúcio where you’re from?”

“He is a revolutionary,” answers Genji, “and a DJ. We are part of an international task force called Overwatch.”

“I mean, are you and him together?” Lúcio reaches for his tattoo, clasping his hand over the ball of his shoulder. “Like me and my Genji?”

“Yes.”

“We’re dating in more than one universe,” Lúcio says, sounding awed. Of the eight million or so people in New York City, it’d seemed like a slim enough chance to have even met Genji in one world; that they’d managed to beat those odds in two? “That’s pretty cool,” he says, immediately aware of how much of an understatement that is.

“That seems to be the case,” Genji answers patiently.

A grin. “I’m a lucky guy.”

“I should be the one saying that,” Genji retorts, automatic.

“If you’re anything like my Genji,” Lúcio tells him, very seriously, “your Lúcio's probably thinking the same thing right now. That’s why you said he’s in good hands?”

Genji makes a soft affirmative sound in lieu of an actual reply, his head canting forward as he asks, “Do you have a picture?”

“Uh, of course. Here.” Lúcio whips out his phone and begins swiping through a comically large gallery of photos, at least half of them selfies with both of them smiling out of the screen. The rest are candids, clearly taken inside a retaurant kitchen. The stranger in Lucio’s pictures is jarringly familiar to Genji, with the exact shade of new-grass green hair that he used to sport. This world’s Genji is stockier than the lean form of his current cybernetics, armor modeled after his body at twenty-five. He notes absently that ten years down the line he would’ve been bigger, broader shoulders and a thicker waist.

“You work in a restaurant,” Genji says as message pings ring in his ears and he clips his visor back in place. Several lines of text alert him to the fact that on his end, Winston and Lúcio have fixed the glitch that brought Genji to this timeline. He’d wondered if there were some mechanism from this side of the equation that he’d have to trigger in order to fix whatever had brought him here, but a gorilla scientist isn’t likely to be experimenting with alternate universes in a world where he and Lúcio work in a restaurant.

“Yeah. I don’t think I’ve got a lot of time to catch you up on details, though.”

“It’s good to know that this reality exists, Lúcio.” Flexing his hand in front of his face at it seems to flicker and fade, Genji stands and checks for his weapons, anything he might have dropped or could have been transported with him. “My companions will have both myself and your Genji home very soon.”

Lúcio hops to his feet, ducking hurriedly around the table to place himself in front of Genji. “So,” he says, “about your guy.”

The answer he’s looking for is obvious enough, but Genji’s never been quite as straightforward as the other man. “I have never felt for someone,” he says softly, “the way I feel about my Lúcio.” He doesn’t elaborate, knowing that Lúcio can understand him, can interpret the inflection in his voice as he’s always been able to, in any reality where the two of them exist.

“You ever tell him that?” The tail end of Lúcio’s question sounds distant, staticky and dull. Genji can still hear the laugh in it, can still see his crooked smile.

“I think he already knows.”

“He does,” Lúcio answers, his voice muffled as he fades away and the interior of Winston’s lab swims into focus, “but do it anyway.”

“I will.”