#in a kind of. blanket sense rather than just .... being personally freaked out by them

[littlemissaddict]

i beg of you, please make nice!sweet!reader hit jason in the head with a lunch tray to defend eddie. then he immediately falls in love with her

I'm ngl this made me laugh out loud when I first read it but I love the idea so much that I couldn't not write it.

Word Count: 1668

A/n: this is not proof read at all so please forgive me if there are any mistakes

The relative calm of the cafeteria didn’t last for long, especially not when Jason and the rest of the basketball squad entered the room and took their seats at their usual table that was pretty much in the centre of the room considering they thought they were school royalty which was ridiculous, or so she thought anyway. Rolling her eyes and focusing back on her food as she listened into the conversation a few of her friends were having about a party at the weekend, one they had asked her to come too but she had refused as parties were not her thing. The loud music she could deal with but the drunk rowdy teenagers on the other hand, well she’d rather stick pins in her eyes than deal with them, no she much preferred to stay at home for a movie marathon or snuggled up under a soft blanket with a new book, both sounded like a better idea to her.

Her focus did not stay on the conversation for long, not when the familiar voice of Eddie Munson rang out through the cafeteria. A small smile worked its way onto her face as she turned to watch him, strutting along the table he and his friends sat at, his arms wildly waving about by his head as he passionately ranted away as his friends laughed along with him. To her, Eddie seemed similar to Jason in the sense that he was confident, loud and brash about things he cared about but there was one main difference. Jason was the cocky, self centred kind, believing that he is better than everyone else because his parents are rich and well-to-do, that he can do no wrong because he’s the captain of the basketball team. Whereas Eddie is confident in himself, he knows who he is, what he likes and doesn’t care if he fits in as long as he’s true to himself. It’s brave and she admires him for it which she thinks is what compels her to do what she does next.

Eddie’s speech doesn’t last long before Jason and a couple of his friends, who she hasn’t bothered to learn the names of, waltz up to him where he’s still standing on the table, now staring down at them with a challenging grin. “What can I do for you boys” he asks, innocently as if he doesn’t know that they’ve only come over to cause trouble and be rude to his friends.

“You know damn well what you’re doing freak” Jason spits and she watches as his hold body straightens as he looks up to Eddie, clearly not liking the power the higher ground gives him. “No one wants to sit here and listen to the shit you’re sprouting” he says matter of factly and the two boys beside him nod in agreement.

That’s all she can stand to listen to, she hates when anyone puts anybody else down but Jason and everybody else in this town for that matter seem to have a personal vendetta against Eddie just because of who his father is and because he refuses to fit in. It also annoys her that no one ever stands up for Eddie, not that he can’t handle himself but it’s always good to know you’ve got someone ready to fight your corner, to know you’re not alone in the world.

Anger bubbling inside her, she grabs her bag and pushes away from the table taking her tray of half eaten lunch with her as she ignores the questions from her friends about her sudden disappearance. She makes her way through the cafeteria without drawing anyones attention, being unnoticeable has its perks sometimes but she also has a feeling that it has something to do with the scene between Eddie and Jason that has captured everyone's attention. As she passes the bin, she dumps the contents of her tray into it but instead of heading in the direction to put her tray back, she heads towards the commotion.

Again no-one notices her approaching them or when she lifts the tray above her head but the resounding crack of it coming down on the top of Jason’s head and his following groan of pain as it hits is hard to miss. Jason’s two friends make no move towards her as she suspected they would but Jason is quick to whip around, arm already raised to throw a punch to the unknown person behind him and she braces herself for its impact. Only it never comes, instead Jaon stands frozen before her looking rather bewildered, it seems that Jason’s parents did at least teach him one good thing that it’s never okay to hit a woman which she’s thankful for as she doesn’t think the adrenaline coursing through her would be enough to numb the pain from a hit from him.

Although there is enough adrenaline left for her to curse Jason out, “You are a fucking asshole” she spits, proding a finger against his chest as if it would enhance her point, “You are insufferable, a jerk and-and” she faulters for more insults as the braveness she felt before wanes as she’s suddenly aware of all eyes in the cafeteria now being on her. She crosses her arms over her chest and takes a step back from him, “and for your information some of us enjoy listening to his shit” she finishes with a curt nod before turning and briskly walking out of there to find somewhere to hide as the reality of what she’s just done hits her.

On her way out what she doesn’t see is the look of awe on Eddie’s face as he watches her leave and he makes up his mind within seconds as he forgets about Jason. He reaches for his lunch box, flashing a grin to the just as bewildered members of Hellfire club before he practically launches himself from the table. He manages the jump pretty well, only landing with a small stumble as he rushes after her.

She’s halfway down the hall when she hears the pounding of feet behind her and she increases her pace thinking that it’s Jason coming for her but the mass of denim, leather and wild hair that appears beside her is answer enough that it’s not Jason. She actually wishes it was Jason for a second when she realises that it’s Eddie because she has no idea how the boy is going to react to what she just did.

“I cannot believe you just did that,so fucking metal honestly” he says as he grabs her arm to stop her from walking any further, “who knew that the shy, quiet, pretty girl would defend the school freak” he adds with a huge grin on his face.

“Don’t call yourself that” she frowns, this was not what she expected at all and she completely skips over the fact he called her pretty because if she focuses on it too much she’s going to do something she’ll probably regret - like kiss him. “You’re not a freak, you’re different sure but there's more to you than that prick in there” she states, placing her hand on top of his that’s still holding onto her arm as she nods her head back towards the cafeteria.

Eddie looks at her suspiciously as she talks, sure he practically fell in love with her the moment the empty tray came crashing down on Jason’s head but even still the kindness she bestows upon him seems too good to be true and he’s not at all sure if this is just some practical joke that Jason somehow orchestrated.

“Ok I’ve made this weird I’ll just go” she sighs as Eddie’s silence seems to stretch on but the moment she tries to walk away his grip on her arm tightens, not enough to be painful but enough to keep her in place. Now it’s her turn to be confused, “Eddie what-” is all she gets out before she’s interrupted.

“You’re serious? You’re not playing games with me?” he asks and it makes her sad that he would even think that she would do that to him, that anyone would do that to him. She shakes her head in response to tell him that no she’s not playing games with him and he relaxes, a smile lighting up his face, “and you like listening to the shit I say?” he asks, eyebrow raised teasingly and she feels her cheeks heat as he repeats back her confession she made earlier but she nods in conformation which only seems to make him happier. “What would you say to grabbing a milkshake at the diner with me after school then I can talk your ears off with nonsense?”

He phrases it like a question but it also seems like a joke to her as well and she’s unsure when she answers, wondering whether or not he’ll just laugh in her face and tell her it was all a joke, that he wouldn’t dream of going on a date with someone like her. Wait, was she getting ahead of herself? Was this a date? She didn’t know but the thought was appealing to her, a date with Eddie Munson, that was something her friends wouldn’t believe if she told them.

When she nodded her consent, Eddie’s already wide smile seemed to get even larger and it was infectious as she felt her own lips pulling up as he nodded almost as if he was surprised she said yes. “Good, great, I mean I’ll meet you out front after last class” he corrected himself as he bounced on the spot just as the bell rang and fellow classmates started filtering out of the cafeteria around them.

“Out front after last class” she repeated in understanding, a giddy feeling bubbling up inside her as she was swept away from him in the crowd of students with a promise of an evening spent getting to know Eddie Munson.

[droidmom]

Sorry, I had to unfollow for all the drama earlier, that pro-baby anti-baby thing really freaked me out. (I'm sorry, but just as someone who's extremely tokophobic, hearing someone I respect say that no one reasonable would say mean things about babies freaked me out)

that’s understandable. if it at all helps, my issue wasn’t like “no one reasonable would say mean things about babies.” it was more “i don’t understand why this particular story is being shared with me of all people or anyone for that matter” bc of the contents. maybe if i’d like, responded directly that would’ve helped clear things up but i didn’t want my followers to see a story about someone accidentally making fun of a baby’s physical deformity and laughing about it.

idk. i get why the vagueness of my response could be read like that w/o the ask’s contents, esp if you already have a sensitivity to it, but calling people unreasonable for having personal issues with kids is absolutely not what i was saying. for all anyone knew the ask could’ve been something horrifically violent or inappropriate, which is again what i would have been referring to. not just someone admitting a repulsion to kids.

all i was asking is that people don’t send me rude stuff about babies and to think about how they express that kind of thing if they absolutely feel the need to.

[sunaswife]

𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖉 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖍𝖎𝖒

Shigaraki X f! Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, brainwashed/ programmed reader, implied kidnapping, Dom/sub, use of the word ‘pet’ and ‘master’, first time sex, uh..does this count as yandere..? Idk lol

🔪: this is like my second time writing smut so I’m sorry if it’s bad 🙇‍♀️ plz don’t spank me. N E Wayz I dedicate this fic to @aoi-turtle 🖤 and Any other shiggy whores out there

Edit: I FORGOT TO TAG @dinablossom and @toworuu IM SO SORRY BSVAKAGSJA

Summary: Imagine being programmed to be the leagues healer but also Shigaraki’s little cum bucket

♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎♡︎☠︎︎

“Master what is the meaning of this.” Shigaraki looked at the television screen as he scratched his neck. “I took her quirk and made it a thousand times better.” He said simply. “Tomura shigaraki where should I place her?” Kurogiri asked. “Anywhere. I don’t care. I just don’t understand why you brought a stupid hero here.” He said annoyed.

“Now now—“ “Shut up and put her somewhere out of my sight!” Tomura demanded and Kurogiri sighed and carried your body to the spare room by shigaraki’s private quarters. You looked dead, you were exhausted, traumatized, in shock.

You were frozen. Your eyes stayed open, unblinking as you stared at the ceiling. It looked as if you were dead. But your body is warm and you were breathing, you’re alive and you’ll recover quick. Thanks to the quirk All for One fixed for you.

Dabi smirked at your ruined form. Spinner hid his rosy cheeks, you were a cute one. Toga was excited to have another girl in the league she talked with Twice about all the fun things you two could do together. Whether it be painting your nails, doing your hair, torturing someone, or making them bleed. She was excited.

“What’s so good about her quirk that you needed it.” Shigaraki asked. “It’s come to my attention that the league has been missing an important puzzle piece.” He started off. “Yeah? What’s that?” The light blue haired man asked. He was beyond ticked off to have a hero here. “She’s not a hero. She was training under UA’s school nurse. But she fell into the hero course for recovery and first aid training.” He said and everyone stayed silent and patiently listened to the brain behind the league.

“Her quirk is pyrokinetic regeneration. She manipulates fire with the energy of the person who needs healing and together she heals with so called fire. Her quirk was small, only a few cuts a bruises here and there could she heal. But I added cell regeneration so she can even fix up deep wounds that could need surgery in a matter of days instead of months.”

“Sounds amazing! No she could use her fire against us!” Twice said and Toga nodded. “She won’t. Her fire doesn’t burn unless you’re hurt.” Kurogiri returned. “But she’s still a hero brat so wouldn’t she try to resist?” Dabi asked. “I don’t know but let me try and see!” Toga giggled and pulled out a knife she easily slit her wrist and skipped her way to your new room.

Out of curiosity the other members followed suit. Shigaraki first, he wanted to see if you were truly useful if not then he’d disintegrate you right here and now. “Hi hi new friend! My name is Toga!” The psychotic girl giggle as her blood dripped all over the floor. You looked up slowly from your spot on the bed. “H-hi...T-toga..” your voice was low. “Kurogiri Can you bring her some water?” Toga asked and he left and came back in the blink of an eye.

Your hands were shaking for the cup of water but Toga held it back, away from you. “If you want the water then heal my wrist first.” She said sweetly with a giggle. “Heal your wrist?” You whispered and she nodded. “O-okay..” you stuttered and you slowly removed the blanket from your lap. You stood up with wobbly legs to go to the girl but you fell. The chain on your ankle pulled you back. You winced and looked at her, pleading for her to come to you. She asked if you were okay and when you responded she shoved her bloody arm to your face. “Take a deep breath. This may sting...” you started and a small green flame came upon your hand. You rubbed the flame over both of your hands like you were putting on lotion, finally when the flames covered both hands you pressed hard on her wrist. She winced, “ow ow ow.” She whimpered, you removed your hands and everyone stared at the flame around her whole wrist. “Give it thirty seconds....or not...” you said as you stared wide eyed at her already healed cut. It was barley a touch and it’s gone now. “Wow. No scar!” She giggled and turned to show the guys. “Wow stab me next, please don’t or else I’ll bite ya!” Twice said and you reached for the water. “Interesting.” Shigaraki mumbled with a small squint. Kurogiri looked over and hoped he wouldn’t do anything bad to you.

“Shows over. She needs her rest.” Kurogiri said and everyone left one by one. Toga gave her a hug and wished for you both to be the best of friends and she skipped away. “Tomura Shigaraki. What are you thinking?” Kurogiri asked as Shigaraki began to walk into your room. “Nothing that concerns you.” He spat and slammed the door. Kurogiri sighed but returned to the bar nonetheless.

“Do you know who I am?” Shigaraki asked, “Yes you’re the leader of the league of villains, You’re name is Tomura Shigaraki and your quirk is decay—“ “that’s enough!” He raised his voice and looked at you with wide eyes.

You looked so sad and you glanced down at your cup. “Mr. shigaraki I know I don’t usually talk this much. I’ve always been the quiet type. I think whoever kidnapped me gave me a huge sense of knowledge. I know the league is bad but I don’t care about the heroes anymore and I don’t know why. I know everything about you guys, your true identity, your quirks, your past. And when I see you I—“ you quickly stopped yourself.

Shigaraki raised a brow. “You what?” He asked curiously. “N-nothing. Just forget it.” You answered and he growled. “Answer me now before I kill you.” He said and your legs subconsciously clenched together. You stayed quiet and your chest rose and fell a little more quickly. Why was this feeling in your chest when this killer, this man child looked at you? What exactly did the man he calls master do to you?

Before you knew it he gripped your chin and lifted it harshly so you could look at his wrinkly red eyes. Even though he looks like a bum he smelled nice and clean. A hand was covering his face and you slowly lifted your hand to touch it and his other hand grabbed your wrist. “What the fuck are you doing? Do you have a death wish you fucking idiot?” He growled and you gulped. “C-can i see your face?” You asked and he tilted his head confused.

“No. Answer my question-“ before you both knew it, as if your body had a mind of its own you tackled shigaraki down and you snatched the hand off his face. His hand quickly wrapped around your neck and arm and you pressed your lips against his. He halted his finger from pressing against your neck. He was beyond confused.

“If only tomura finished listening to what i had to say.” All for one chuckled loudly. You both were able to faintly hear the television from down the hall. “He would know that I managed to change y/N’s desires and whole way of thinking. She’s now with the league of Villains and she’s in love with its leader, Tomura Shigaraki. Consider it a present and motivation for the future of the league.” You both heard and you pulled away from him. “I’m sorry. I should have asked.” You said lowly. He stood there stunned and silent.

He slowly sat up and looked at your figure. “So you were brainwashed like my Nomu.” He hummed and took a few steps back. He noticed how you crawled closer to him but the chain was keeping you away.

“Who do you love?”

“You.”

“Who do you belong to?”

“You.”

“Who’s your master?”

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

You said and he smirked. He was gonna have fun with you. “At least master was kind enough to give me a beauty.” He said as he held on to the chains. “Don’t freak out.” He warned and you nodded. He disintegrated the chain around your ankle and he pulled you by the arm. You were wearing an ugly hospital gown and you were barefoot. You couldn’t help but shiver. He went next door to his room and he shoved you in and slammed the door. You nearly tripped over the mess and you turned to look at shiggy. “Why are you just standing there?” He asked, “You haven’t given me orders.” You deadpanned. “You can’t think for yourself?” He questioned. “No i can but I Don’t want to upset you.” You replied.

“Fine then clean this shit up.” He referred to his very very messy room. You nodded and began to lift up a piece of trash but he pulled you away. “Change first.” He said and handed you a black hoodie. “Do you have a bathroom?” You asked. “No change here.” He said and you nodded. You turned so your back was facing him and carefully began to take off the gown, leaving you completely bare and Shigaraki couldn’t help but look.

Your skin was so beautiful and looked so soft. He saw as you carefully put on his hoodie and it completely engulfed you. It reached to your mid thigh. You slowly turned to look at him with rosy cheeks. The hoodie smelled just like him. “Tomura—“ “It’s master to you.” He Interrupted and you nodded, subconsciously squeezing your thighs together once more. “Sorry...m-master.” You said and played with the hem of his hoodie.

“Master..can I have some underwear too...? I feel weird, when I’m bare underneath..” you asked. “No, continue cleaning my room.” He answered coldly and sat on his gaming chair. He turned on his console and began playing whatever game he had.

You sighed and you couldn’t help but admire his gorgeous yet scarred face and his beautiful long fingers. In an instant he can kill you, but if you’re good..then he might even reward you. If you were to die, I’d rather be in the hands of your master than anyone else.

You quickly began you pick up the instant ramen bowls and bags of chips. You separated recycling and trash. You even managed to pick up all his dirty clothes and put it in the hamper in less than an hour. Tomura was stunned, one minute he can barley walk in, the next It’s almost spotless. He saw you from the corner of his eye, you were folding his clothes that practically had the same color scheme.

“Can i go through your drawers to put your clothes away..?” You finally spoke up. “Yeah it’s whatever. I don’t care.” He mumbled and returned to the screen. “Ugh stupid game!” He huffed and began pressing the controller more furiously. You chuckled and thought that it was so cute and adorable when he was frustrated.

You went to his California king sized bed and began to fix the sheets and make his bed. Since it was so huge, you had to climb on to properly fix it. You were completely in your own world when Shigaraki turned and saw your wet cunt on display in all it’s glory. Ever since he saw you he couldn’t help but feel that urge to take you. His resistance was getting to him and now he wanted to give in to his urges even more. He was too distracted that he lost the fucking game and he growled and disintegrated the controller. That was his own form of rage quitting.

You heard his sound of frustration so when you turned you expected him to be in the same chair uttering bullshit, but you were shocked when you felt your hips being pulled back. Your cunt was touching his pants, but you can feel his bulge. “Um..master..I—“

“Shut up.” He said and reached for your neck. He pulled you back to him and wrapped his other arm around your waist, hovering your aching clit. “This is whats gonna happen.” He started off and you nodded. “I’m going to fuck you. And you’re going to like it. Okay?”

“I understand.” You said softly, you felt his hands slowly lift up the hoodie just a bit to get a better view of your ass. You couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed. “I know I’m probably not your dream girl but I promise to be a good girl, master..” your voice shook. He tilted his head, were you getting insecure?

“No pet, you’re perfect to me.” He assured and you could hear his belt jingle as he took it off. “You seem pretty wet already, pet. Since how long have you been like this?” He asked as he got out of his jeans. He slowly open your cheeks to reveal your little pussy clenching around nothing, how cute. “Since I saw you..” you mumbled. He smirked and leaned down. He immediately began to eat out your cunt causing you to gasp in shock and grip the sheets. Your chest layed roughly against the bed as your ass stood proud in the air for the leader of the league of villains to enjoy.

“Fuck—“ you moaned and you felt a slap on your ass. You slightly jumped released a small yelp. “Watch your language.” He growled from your pussy. “Yes master.” You whimpered and he slowly began to rub his thumb on your other hole. Your small moans filled the room and he easily slipped his middle finger in you. You squeezed around him so deliciously, he couldn’t help but wished his cock was inside.

This has never happened to him before, this feeling in his chest. Someone that loves him and will obey his every command. You’re so beautiful as well, and your sounds. Your moans and whimpers, in all honesty he jut wanted to get himself off. But after hearing you and seeing you. He wants to make sure you have pleasure as well.

He continued pumping his finger in and out of your slick walls and your voice started getting slightly higher. “Master...I—I’m gonna cum...”you panted and your toes began to curl. “It’s okay, cum for me, pet. You’ve been a good girl.” He said softly and he felt you clench around his finger. When you came he slowly removed his finger and examined it. You must be new to is if you could get off with just one of his long fingers.

You layed on the bed a bit tired, not paying attention to your master who had tasted your cum on his finger. It was delicious and he wanted another taste. When you felt a lick on your cunt again you immediately shivered and clenched your thighs. “Hold still I just wanna taste some cum.” Shigaraki huffed and he pulled your thighs apart. You were pretty sensitive but you obeyed nonetheless.

You moans began to fill the room once more and before you could finish and cum again he pulled away. You automatically whimpered and turned to give your master puppy dog eyes. “I would let you cum again, but my cock is so fucking hard I don’t think I can wait another minute.” he said and began to pull down his boxers.

Before you could get back in position, which freaking hurt, he flipped you over on your back and you made a small oof noise. You looked up to See shigaraki focused on his cock, he was rubbing himself up and down your slit to use your cum as lube. “Alright I’m going in.” He announced and slowly pushed his rather large member inside your tint cunt. You immediately yelped and held on to his biceps. “M-master wait—it hurts..” you pleaded and Tomura finally looked up at your face.

He loves inflicting pain, he loves watching people’s painful expressions when they’re hurt or when they’re gonna die. Chisaki’s face was so amusing. But when he saw yours, his heart shattered and he didn’t want to hurt you at all. You’ve been nothing but good to him, he doesn’t want to hurt his little toy. “I’m sorry.” He apologized, “it’s okay..” you sniffled. After a minute of him being patient you gave him a nod and he continued to slowly bottom out.

You both released a moan when he was all the way in. You both have never felt anything like this before. “Can I start moving?” Shigaraki asked you as he brushed way the hair from your face. You nodded and he pulled almost all the way out and he slammed back in. Your little gasps and moans came back which made shigaraki feel at ease. You can clearly hear your slick with every thrust and it was music to his ears.

“I’ve been neglecting these.” He grunted and lifted his hoodie over your chest. Finally he was able to see your beautiful soft breasts bouncing with each thrust. “Fuck you’re so beautiful.” He moaned and immediately lowered his mouth to one of your nipples. You squealed and your back arched and he pushed you down. “Master...” you moaned softly. His tongue swirled around your hardened bud and your fingers tangled in his light blue hair. Two of his fingers pinched your other nipple and he lightly bit the nipple in his mouth.

“I think I-I’m close—“ you gasped and he removed his mouth. His thrusts decreased in speed but they became harder. He had a stupid smirk on his face and your eyes widened when he wrapped his hand around your throat. “Hold it until I say so.” He demanded and you muttered a weak yes. He felt how your gummy walls squeezed against his large dick, he was getting close too. “Fuck Fuck Fuck.” He groaned with his head tilted back and your mouth watered at the sight. Why is he so fucking handsome?

He could feel himself getting closer to his climax so he rubbed his thumb on you clit while increasing his pace once more, causing you to be even louder than before. Everyone in the bar could hear and a certain fire villian grumbled in annoyance. “Master I can’t hold it anymore!” You screamed. “Then cum my stupid little pet. Cum all over my cock like a good girl.” He grunted and bit his lip at the sight of your sweaty body. Your bouncing breasts, crazy hair, your adorable ahego face, your twitching legs and finally your grip on his biceps. You were so prefect and so good to him and only him.

When you came you felt his cum shoot inside you as well causing you to gasp at the delicious feeling. Tomura rested his head on your shoulder and tried catching his breath. You couldn’t help but smile and blush at the closeness. You slowly wrapped your arms around him and you gave his shoulder a kiss causing him to freeze. “I love you master, thank you for making me feel good.” You said softly. He chuckled and pulled you closer, “I love you too.”

I wanna write a part 2 of Shiggy finding out his little toy is being used by a certain fire boy 👀

[starsuh]

do re mi | myg

featuring. min yoongi x reader | 3.2k

summary. while teaching you how to play piano, min yoongi realizes that his dumbass might have feelings for you after all.

genre. fluff | f2l | roommate!au | mutual pining

warnings. a quarter-life crisis and a soft make-out scene at the end

Amongst Min Yoongi's many talents, his sixth sense of knowing when something was bothering you was the one that most oft caught you off guard. Whether it was the intensity in which you slammed a door shut, or the way in which you didn't choose to annoy the fuck out him like you did every other day of the week; he would notice each time. It was only clockwork that he tentatively wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you had collapsed against the couch with perceptible chagrin.

"What's up?" he asked, a simple question that often entailed a more than complicated answer. Peering down at your tightened features, he awkwardly patted your shoulder as if to make known that silence would be just as valid of a reply.

You ran your hands through your face. "I don't know,” you said. If you did, you would've told him, just as you told him everything. Though the pair of you had began as merely two people who happened to be roommates because there were no other affordable options, spending months watching Netflix with another person tends to lead to friendship — even best-friendship, though neither of you had established such a title. It was the kind of friendship that needn't clarification, rather it was just another unequivocal fact amongst many.

After kicking off your shoes (Yoongi would scold you for that in a less emotionally-turbulent time), you pulled your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them in a ball-like manner. "It's really fucking lame but I’m just realizing some things,” he nodded, prompting you to continue. "I'm scared of the future, I think. I mean, everyone is, but when our prof was talking about internships and shit earlier I kind of freaked out then decided that hiding in the bathroom was the best option.”

In his gaze was a reassurance so intent that you had to look away lest you become ensnared in it. He oft had that effect, increasingly so throughout the past few weeks. "What about it?"

Your eyes fluttered closed as you took a deep breath. “I think I know what I want to do, but then I see other people, people like you, who are so passionate about their place on Earth that to not do that thing would be a fate worse than death. Like, I love the path that I’m on but there’s always a voice that’s telling me I’m gonna fuck something up and regret everything.” You played with the loose threads of your top, pulling at the offending stitching. You laughed. “This is so stupid. I guess I’m just realizing that I might not be cut out for it.”

His sudden silence filled the room so heavily that you began to wonder if you shouldn’t have said anything at all. Gears turned behind the messy black mop atop his head that hung over his eyes; a face similar to the one he makes when contemplating a new track he had produced, seeking for each of its flaws and corresponding solutions.

It was so sudden when he reached down to grab your hand that you almost jumped. An inch away from falling onto his chest with the sudden upwards tug, you steeled yourself. "I'll show you something," he said to which you replied with a questioning stare. "It'll just be a sec, c'mon."

You allowed him to drag you to his bedroom, though not without glaring at the back of his head and whining. "Your room smells like Cheetos and day-old boxers."

He rolled his eyes. "I cleaned it this morning, so shut up."

He pushed the door closed with his hip, never once letting go of your hand until he unceremoniously shoved you towards the left end of the keyboard bench. You wiped the accumulated hand sweat against the rough fabric of your jeans, both thankful yet forlorn that he had let go. His was a comfort rarely given and you craved his affection the way one did with a cat that ignored those around it.

He reached down to plug the extension into the socket. "Can I play you something?"

You blinked, unsure if the nervous tone laced in the question was figment or reality. “What?”

He gave you a blank stare though it didn’t distract you from the way his hands fidgeted in his lap. “I said, can I play you something? Something I wrote?”

Impatient, he didn’t give you a second glance or a moment to reply before his hands flew across the board, pulling melodies out of the nooks and crannies of its black and white keys. Through every note, he told you of emotion, of love, of heartbreak and melancholy. You don't think you had ever understood what music was until then. It was more than his expertise, though he was quite the expert; it was the way his eyes closed at certain shrills and the way his shoulders hunched at others, the way he slammed harder into the keys and at other parts softer. He played like a poet. A writer. And you refused to be someone who didn't appreciate it for what it was: a story told to you.

The slight smirk gracing his soft features told you that he found amusing the way your mouth gaped open in shock. You’d only ever heard the distant echoes of his sound from behind closed doors as you walked past.

Yoongi had never played for you before, was even shocked that he was able to now, knowing that your mere presence in close proximity provided quite the distraction.

When he stopped, the air almost rang in its silence, as if you had forgotten what the world sounded like without his music in it. The hush blanket laid across the room felt bare and vulnerable. You understood now more than ever why he locked himself within the confines of his space in all hours of the day. If you could live in his symphonies, you would.

"Wow.” Because what else could be said? "That was... Yoongi, you're amazing."

His smirk remained, though as more of a mask to hide softer feelings behind. "Must've been if you're complimenting me for once.”

"Because you already have a ginormous ego."

He began playing once more. This time, a slow and deceptively simple melody. The chords were arrows tightly strung that flew through the air in wisps of smoke. To you, its warmth was paralleled to the feeling of his own beside you, his arm occasionally brushing yours as he reached to play a few lower keys.

"I think you're taking it too seriously," he said. "The future, I mean."

Your brows furrowed. "I kind of have to, dude."

He rolled his eyes but kept playing, occasionally glancing at you as he did so. "What I mean is," he pressed softly against the keys in the left end of the piano, their tenor notes filling your ears. "You need to calm down. Like this," the already soft melody slowed. "You know what you want, don't you? Why are you hesitating?"

You stilled, the feeling of being both caught and scolded grounding you in time. Your eyes focused on his hands to avoid the feeling of his analyzing gaze on the side of your face. “There are things I want to accomplish but there’s also things I want to have,” you groaned in exasperation. “I don’t know if I should choose the former or the latter but they’re so entangled that I can’t even tell which is which anymore.”

"Some things are only difficult if you think they're difficult." He looked down at the keys. "Like playing the piano, everyone knows that learning it is hard but something like this-" he played three chords in succession. "-sounds simple, right?" He continued to play those same chords until they blended together in a single melodious breeze. "But when I was a kid, learning piano was the bane of my twelve year old existence. I hated it so much because my impatient ass wanted to be good without trying. So, in true dumbass fashion, I quit taking lessons after two weeks."

You tilted your head towards him. “How did you learn then?"

“Well, I realized I was being a huge pussy and went back." Shaking his head before the glaze of the memory could wash over, he nodded towards you. Grabbing your hand, he placed them over the keys. “Can I teach you a chord?”

Your heart spiked in one fell swoop. “What? And embarrass myself in front of the music god himself?"

He laughed and it lit up his eyes brighter than the screen of his laptop that he had forgotten to shut off, still on the League of Legends home screen. “I told you, it's only hard if you think it is."

Too flustered to argue, you could only watch as he directed your fingers towards the correct keys until three were stretched towards their respective positions. C Major. You wondered if he could hear the rapid pace of your heart through the vibrations on your skin from where his larger hand rested atop your own. You could only pray to any god who would listen that he didn’t.

Among the numerous feelings that bubbled beneath your chest, the sudden pinch of ice that struck your nerves as he lifted his palm away from yours was one that you were the most unsure of. Filing that thought away for later, you focused on the most important task at hand: avoiding looking like an idiot in front of Min Yoongi.

Before you could retreat, your hands pressed down.

A sudden burst of sound filled the silence that you hadn't realized had grown so deafening. Your eyes widened as if you hadn't expected the chord to occur despite Yoongi's administrations, like trying to guess a passcode and getting it correct in a miraculous feat of luck. The now fading sound was not like anything you were expecting, though you knew even monkeys could do what you had just done. It was an actual piece of the puzzle that was music rather than the CD case or paper bag that had come with it.

Likened to an excited pup, you looked towards him for praise or assurance that you had done it right only to catch his already grinning countenance at your widened eyes.

For the next half hour he taught you two other basic chords, never failing to correct you in such a patient manner that your heart rose and fell with each glance and soft appraisal.

"But sometimes," he grinned. "Sometimes you need to stop thinking."

Your brows furrowed, though you didn’t need more than a few seconds to understand his cryptic wording before you yelped, almost flying off your seat at the abrupt disruption of the peace.

He began smashing his hands against the piano, creating the worst orchestra your ears had ever had the pleasure to hear. Overcoming the shock, both of yours laughs bubbled out, drowned by the keyboard speakers. Without a second thought, you joined, key smashing against the lower end. Together, you created an ear-grating masterpiece of cacophonous noise and piercing melody, yet it was still one of the most beautiful things you’d ever heard.

Yoongi began cheering your name like the greatest hypeman in existence as you gave the most effortful performance of your life, hands pressing against the first keys you saw to the last. You didn't know what you were doing but it didn't matter, not when he was smiling with his gums on full display as you went with your gut for the first time in years. Yoongi, the boy whose hands crafted magic, whose words changed you, whose music moved you. Yoongi, who looked at you and saw past your forced pretensions and society-enforced perceptions.

You laughed until your lungs ached for air, having not even realized that your whole body leant against his as you tried to catch your breath.

"Oh my god, I think my ears are broken," you covered them, finally dragging your hands away from the keys.

His grin widened. “You're a quick learner."

“Is this the part where I say that it's because you're a good teacher?"

“Only if you're polite, which we know you aren't." He hadn't stopped smiling and you had never felt prouder of any accomplishment in your entire life. “Was I able to distract you?"

You laughed, bringing your hands back to your lap to fiddle with them. He's seen you wear the same ramen-stained hoodie three days in a row with hair just as ratty yet you had never more felt exposed. “I’d say yes but I think I’ve exceeded my Yoongi compliment limit for the day."

"And here I was thinking that that compliment limit was zero."

"Hey," you playfully knocked against his shoulder. "I always say your breakfast is good."

He knocked against you back, his eyes turnt to half-moons. "That's because you want to brainwash me into cooking for you everyday with half-assed compliments."

"Or maybe," you lightly leaned against his hoodie-covered shoulder. "It's because I like eating breakfast with you."

He paused, and a grin that could only be described as shy graced his features. He tapped against the keyboard but didn't press hard enough to allow a sound to be let out.

"I trust you," he said in the silence. "That you can follow your heart. Even if that sounds corny as fuck, I really believe it."

You smiled, something you've been doing more and more often with him around. "I'll try," you said, watching as he contemplated his next words with a bite of his bottom lip. Giving him time, you glanced back at the piano. "Is it really that simple?" You pressed on a key.

He finally looked up. "I think so," he played the key beside the one you had just pressed, the side of it touching yours. "Even if it doesn't sound right to other people, who's to say that random key smashing isn't music? When you think you're supposed to play a certain way, that's when you hesitate. Even when you fuck up a piece," he pressed another key. "Regretting it doesn't stop the echo."

He began to play another soft melody, leaving you just as entranced as you were the first time he did.

“I’m a hypocrite, though,” he closed his eyes, lightly scoffing. “Giving you advice that I can’t even take.”

Your voice came out in a whisper. “Why?”

“Because...” He took a deep breath, hands leaving the keyboard as he fully turned to you. “I like you," he said it like it were a fact you should've already known. “I... I like you. A lot. I can't remember when you stopped being my annoying roommate who'd hog the fridge space and became the annoying roommate who I couldn't stop writing songs about. Before I could even realize and stop myself, today’s me kept looking forward to tomorrow’s you. I’d be a hypocrite to tell you to stop hesitating about the things in your life while I spent every second of every day wondering whether I should tell you my feelings and ruin our friendship.”

For if there was anything Yoongi knew more than most was that love was fucking stupid. It caused people to be irrational, selfless, and weak-hearted, yet why did he want to forget the stupidity that came with it whenever you walked into the kitchen for breakfast, hair messy and shirt tousled?

Love was fucking stupid. But maybe he could be an idiot if it meant that you'd be stupid for him too.

“I know you don't feel the same way but I just needed to tell-" you kissed him before he could finish what was sure to be a sentence so ridiculous that even the most astute of linguists would be left baffled. He was Min Yoongi. The boy who spent all day locked in his room making music and playing games with his friends. The roommate who'd wake up early just to cook you breakfast. The friend who knew you better than you knew yourself. The man who you'd found yourself falling for with every gummy smile. Yoongi. It had always been Yoongi.

And he was kissing you back.

His lips were as warm as the hands that carefully wrapped around your hips, gently pulling you closer to him. He kissed the way he played, soft and thoughtful.

Pulling away, he whispered your name slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them. Never before had your name ever felt so wonderful a one. His forehead pressed against yours, eyes flickering between yours in disbelief. The hand around your waist tightened as if in fear that at any moment you might say that you hadn't meant to give him what had to be the best moment of his life -- that you had actually accidentally fallen on him and he had simply been mistaken.

"You're an idiot," you laughed. "I've liked you since the first time you've cooked me breakfast if the heart eyes I gave you each time weren't already a dead giveaway."

He shuffled in his seat. "You have low standards then," he said. "Or are in desperate search for a house-husband."

You smiled, your nose brushing against his. "Maybe, a bit of both."

He leaned away from you, eyes lit up in a euphoria that didn't hinder from his nervous cadence. "Actually, that song I played for you? Earlier?” You’d never seen him blush before. “I, maybe, composed it thinking of you.”

"A personal chef, jester, and composer? I think I'm winning."

His nose crinkled. "You know you can still back out, right?"

"You're acting as if I'd even want to."

"Stupid songs like that... I suck at love yet I still want to give you everything," he whispered, voice hoarse. "But my everything will still only amount to that."

"If that's your everything,” your hands interlocked with his. “Then your everything is more than enough."

"I like you," he murmured the confession between your lips as if it were clandestine, the urge to say it a million times more bubbling up from his chest. Though stronger than his urge to say it was his urge to hear you say it back.

Your lips met his completely. Perfectly. "I like you, too."

Pulling away once more you couldn't help but laugh at the reddened color of his cheeks and ears. Cutting away at the awkward and still unsure tension, he inched backwards with a startlingly loud clap of his hands. "Now that that's settled, can we go back to making out? This corny shit is so awkward."

"I can't believe I like you," you groaned but kissed him back anyway.

While there was nothing in your life that you could be sure of, you knew that the man whose smile could light up the entire city of Seoul would be there for you for every step, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[lasquadrasfuckhouse]

Hi! Can I ask for la squadra reacts to a Ghost in their base who love singing like a siren. But other members can't see or hear.

This is my first asking, im not sure of i did it correct.

Thank you so much♥️♥️

you did wonderful!!! i LOVE this concept. i wrote more general 'la squadra if their base was haunted' stuff here so i'll be working off of that

this one's dedicated to both the ghost that would hum in this one washroom at my high school when no one else was there and melissa the beautiful scene queen ghost that haunts my house and sings fall out boy and mcr with us 🙌

la squadra with a singing ghost in their base 🎶

first and foremost all of them would probably make sure it's not a stand attack and THEN would make sure they're not hallucinating but once those explanations are out of the way, here's what would follow

risotto ✂️

he's mostly just kinda confused but he doesn't let it bother him. he's a logical dude: you can't prove ghosts but you can't exactly disprove them either so he's just kinda like.... ok i guess

the singing is nice, actually. eerie but very beautiful. as long as he can still sleep, he doesn't mind. if he can't sleep, he may like.... politely ask please no singing while he's trying to sleep? he really doesn't know how to talk to a ghost. but they seem nice.

he won't go out of his way to either interact with them or avoid them and it doesn't really bother him that no one else can see or hear them. they just kinda peacefully coexist.

if the others ask him about it, he'll tell them straight up about the singing ghost, as long as the ghost doesn't appear distressed about being known to the others. but he doesn't want this ghost thing to distract them either, so he reminds everyone to keep their heads on.

prosciutto 🚬

prosciutto is dumbfounded. for real? a ghost? this is ridiculous! and why is he the only one who can see or hear it? he's just kind of annoyed by it more than anything.

the singing is rather lovely, though. if there's too much noise going on in the house and he's getting a headache, that's probably the first time he'd try like, talking to them? to be like, please--and he feels ridiculous just talking to thin air or an apparition--no singing rn. he will begrudgingly thank them when they stop, and while he's at it he may as well let them know that they do have a beautiful voice there's just too much noise right now. the ghost seems to like the compliment.

it's very soothing otherwise. maybe after some time has passed since that first interaction and he's the only one in the house, he may ask why he's the only one who can see or hear them, cause he is a bit curious. whether the ghost has an explanation or not, he'll just kinda be like aight then

really he's a bit curious about the whole ghosts existing thing in general but he just kinda takes what he's presented with. may not give straightforward answers about the whole ghost thing if the others are making a ruckus about it, at least at first, cause he doesn't want to rile em all up.

pesci 🎣

YEAH, HES FUCKIN SCARED. he can't explain it, he can't get rid of it with his stand, and now he feels embarrassed b/c he thinks he seems either incompetent or silly. in reality at least the others know that lying isn't his style so some of them are starting to wonder if he is seeing something unexplainable

the singing gets his teeth chattering. sure, it's pretty, but it's chilling. catch him hiding under the blankets with his pillow pressed over his ears.

he may very meekly ask the ghost to leave him be if they're around him and he'll leave them alone too. way too scared to interact with them and avoids them almost at all costs.

won't initiate conversation about it. some of the others may goad him on to freak him out more. be nice to pesci you losers!!!!! >:( but even if someone asks nicely about it he won't want to talk about it much but he'll be relieved that someone believes him.

formaggio 🧀

yeah, all cockiness goes out the window when he realizes it's a ghost. like, he tries his best to cling onto the attitude, but honey he is freaked out. no ghostes for him thanks

the singing gives him shivers. he'll be like HAHA YEAH.... REAL NICE VOICE YA GOT..... BUT IM NOT GONNA FALL FOR THAT....... U AINT POSSESSIN ME but the ghost is literally just chillin. he doesn't trust like that tho

may try some methods of banishment he remembers from his nonna. even if they don't work in the sense of forcing them to disappear or leave, the ghost probably still gets the message and leaves him be.

will insist with a hand over his heart that yes there IS a fucking ghost and no way in HELL is he fuckin w/ it or joking HES NOT JOKING HE SWEARS, but will puff up his chest like yea i told that ghost to get lost!!!! my love you are fooling no one everyone heard you shrieking like a little baby.

illuso ✨

he's actually a bit freaked. thought it was ridiculous until he actually couldn't find an explanation for it and it's unnerving that he was somehow singled out. should he be flattered? yes yes he knows he's lovely and cool but please don't only show your ghost activities to him or preferably no ghost activities at all

because he's freaked out he may lose his cool and yell into the air to shut up with the singing, which really does not help him feel any better.

with time, he may just get used to it, seeing as the ghost doesn't really do much aside from being a ghost and sing. he might come to appreciate the singing for how pretty it is, too.

will use the opportunity to scare everyone and definitely won't give straightforward answers just for the fuck of it

melone 🍈

VERY fascinated. thrilled, honestly! how fucking cool is it that there's a ghost right in front of him? too bad the others can't see or hear it, but he supposes that makes him lucky.

will compliment the ghost on their beautiful voice and ask a whole bunch of questions. why is he the only one who can see or hear them? do they like to sing just because? are they bound to the base, or to him, or something else keeping them tethered to this world? do they know what's beyond? can they see or interact with their stands? souls exist, seeing as someone's stand is a manifestation of it, so are ghosts souls without bodies? or something else?

he's just very curious and friendly, maybe a bit overbearing, but he's just excited. even with all his questions, he avoids asking how they died cause even though social cues aren't his strong point (especially with the dead????), he still figures that must be pretty rude to say the least. he may happily sway to whatever tune they're singing or find himself humming it later.

will be very excited to share this with everyone as long as the ghost is okay with that. doesn't care if he sounds silly or the others don't believe him, that's not his problem. will assuage any fears from the ones who are more scared by the idea of a ghost (they're just a person!)

ghiaccio ❄️

this is dumb!!! ghosts aren't supposed to be real!!!! that doesn't make any sense!!!!! goes on a rant about how ghosts don't make sense, and maybe he'd be less ticked off if they made sense. like, sure, souls exist cause stands exist. but like, what the fuck? he's honestly not scared, just annoyed.

it's extra annoying how he's the only one who can see or hear them. he's another one who gets irritated when there's too much noise in the house, so he'll yell to cut it out with the singing, if you're gonna make him talk to the air and do ghost nonsense at least don't bug him with it!!!! but soft singing in the quiet is actually very relaxing. he'll find himself sighing and just about falling asleep to it.

he's not good with words and how the fuck does he talk to a ghost but over time he may be like hey.... nice singing. when the other assholes aren't being noisy too. he'll still grumble about it not making sense until he makes sense of it, but he gets used to it.

on that front, he may actually talk to melone about it. he thinks a lot of melone's pseudoscience stuff is nonsense but he's got something concrete right here and he wants to understand it and melone is great at working with weird ideas so they try to make sense of ghosty things

sorbet and gelato 🔪🍦

they're both just kinda like. well i'll be. sorbet isn't bothered by it, gelato is like oooo how chilling but isn't like, actually scared. he's the one who may fucking flirt with the ghost like oh my is there a reason it's only us who can hear your pretty voice?? ;) sorbet thinks that's pretty funny.

and their voice is pretty! they both really like the singing, they find it beautiful and soothing and it keeps things interesting on base. what's not to love?

sorbet continues just doin his thing, but he will nod to the ghost in greeting when he sees them and exists comfortably with them, he's very chill about it. gelato will chatter and joke and flirt and be like hey let's duet this [SCREAMS] just to fuck around and see if he can make them laugh

they will both absolutely play it up to freak out the others. eventually if their antics get to be too bothersome risotto will tell them to cut it out, and they'll be like 'no problem capo, there really is a ghost tho' and then that causes a whole new wave of fuckery through the squad because even sorlato aren't crazy enough to lie to risotto's face after he told them to knock it off which means there is a ghost but HOW MUCH IS TRUE AND HOW MUCH IS THE TWO OF THEM FUCKING AROUND??? it never ends with these guys.

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

(Gen Start-Up) Not Worth It pt. 1

{Reader gets sent from our world to middle earth and falls in love with either Fili/Kili/Thoron or heck maybe all three, I'll leave that up to you, and upon coming to middle earth they get the healing powers. All they gotta do is put their hands on the person and concentrate. BUT these healing abilities have a cost if the injury is severe. Maybe they either transfer the injury to themselves until it evens out between the two? Or it takes a lot of energy from them and if they use it too much they will die. Then Reader tries to heal Thorin/Kili/Fili at the end." --- Britishfajita}

Fluff and Slight Angst

Authors Note: This is the beginning of a wonderful three (or maybe more) part connected series! Same reader for all three of the Durin's who I plan to make this for. There may be multiple parts for them, idk yet. We'll just see what happens :D!

The Durins/Reader

----

You could have been so extraordinary in your past life.

Special, wanted, powerful.

And, to some extent, you were wanted and desired, but you could never deliver on those expectations and hopes.

Your special ability to heal, ease pain, and help others was never anything special where you lived. Many people had healing abilities similar to and better than yours, and most, if none, had the drawbacks that yours did.

Where normal healers can use their powerful auras to mend and strengthen others to accelerate the healing process, yours is much more of a give and take, parasitic relationship between 'doctor' and patient. Instead of your aura enhancing the healing ability of others, it instead participates in a transfer that can leave you wounded yourself.

You retain your ability to heal and, essentially, switch auras in a wound transferral. You do not always inherit the wounds of those you heal, however.

Depending on the severity of an injury, you may be left winded, tired, or extremely hungry, but in more serious instances, the damages completely transfer to you instead.

The best way to exemplify this would be to explain how you found out about this horrible symbiotic relationship in the first place.

Your parents knew you were a healer from a young age, for there are individuals who test all children in schools to determine what classes they will need to hone their abilities, and they figured out your ameliorative nature rather easily.

The fatigue and pain you sometimes felt during training and classes was just chalked up to your control and aura being weaker, for your parasitic power was something very uncommon at the time.

It happened during your first ever shift at the local hospital.

Up to this point you've only ever dealt with smaller wounds because of your easy fatigue and exhaustion, but this day was different.

A disaster struck a nearby bank that left 40 people, and counting, injured, and it was all hands on deck. Every person on staff had somethings to do, and when a young woman with debris sticking out of her abdomen came rolling in, you were the only one free to help at the time.

You took up the assignment without hesitation, but as soon as you began to heal her, something felt different.

There was no weakness at first, something very alien to you, and you were able to heal her in record time for even one of the most skilled (and normal) healers, only, you eventually realized that something wasn't right.

The pain you felt that day was horrible and unimaginable, and you went down in a matter of moments.

It wasn't until 5 minutes later that someone found you unconscious on the ground, pale and barely breathing. If it weren't for your current location, you certainly would've died that day.

That young woman had been saved and, somehow, her power had been enhanced as well after your treatment, but it left your aura damaged and practically sucking the life out of you following her miraculous recovery.

The whole premise of your power is the nature of give and take. You give a piece of your aura to someone else to heal and enhance them (be it their power, strength, wakefulness, or anything else), and in return you take a part of theirs and become weakened depending on how much you give, needing to rest and regenerate what you gave away in that moment. You can also heal yourself of your own, personally received wounds without incident, which is rather strange.

For most, there is a finite amount of their aura that they can ever have throughout the duration of their lives, but your supply is nearly endless. However, the more you spend healing or helping, the more you lose. You can regenerate your aura forever, but if you keep going without ceasing, then your life will eventually begin to drain too, to compensate for your loss.

It isn't an instant process, though, for it takes time for your body to catch up to how much of your power you spend, so you had to train really hard from that moment on to ensure that you never spend more than you've earned.

If it weren't for this fateful vice of yours, you'd probably be one of the most powerful healers in your world; the only limit to the wounds you may heal is your own aura and life force, and the amount of time it takes all depends on your concentration and intent.

Because of this, you became unwanted.

Unwanted in a sense that, people did want you to help them become stronger, but no organization or job wanted to hire such a liability, and those with such horrible vices are always subject to horrible criticism and scrutiny, so you eventually just stopped using your ability altogether.

It isn't until you fall into Middle Earth that you start to habitually use your powers again, and it's because of the life-threatening journey you're forced to join.

Here in Middle Earth, however, you're one of a kind.

There is healing magic and those gifted with the knowledge of higher level healing, but your ability to heal simply using your hands and mind is something totally unheard of.

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield were the poor unfortunate souls that you scared half to death on the day you arrived in Middle Earth.

You came, quite literally, out of nowhere.

One second you were washing the dishes in your house and the next you were unconscious in another world.

From their perspective you came falling out of a tall tree, nothing to break your fall other than the cold, unforgiving dirt below, and it successfully gave everyone a huge scare.

Your right arm seemed to have broken and you were horribly battered and bruised, and the dwarfs, hobbit, and lone wizard couldn't just leave you there.

They made camp for the night and made you as comfortable as possible, hoping above all else that you'll wake up at some point, and you eventually do. Though, it isn't a nice or very calm occurrence.

When you finally woke up to a new hat and 4 thick wool blankets smothering you, you freaked out.

At first, you thought someone had kidnapped you or something, but the calm, old wizard named 'Gandalf' managed to calm you and explain that you're not healthy enough to be thrashing and panicking so frantically.

That's when you shocked them all.

You managed to kick off those pesky blankets and shake off that too-warm, but also soft hat, and get a look at yourself, and you were dismayed to see so much of your skin marred with bruises, cuts, scrapes, welts, etc, and your broken arm was unsightly enough to make you nearly sick.

"I-I'll fix it then, I guess." You grumbled nervously, laying back down in the heaping pile of blankets to focus on mending your broken and shattered bones, re-weaving your muscles together, and accelerating the healing of the more superficial wounds.

By the time you were nearly completely healed you were too tired to finish fixing the cuts, scrapes, and other lacerations, so they were left as week-old injuries that had been scabbed over and mostly fixed.

When your eyes fluttered open again you were, once again, shocked to see multiple people leaning over you with awestruck expressions, and you realized in that moment that things were even less right than you initially feared.

Rather quickly did you realize and accept that you were no longer in the same place or time as you were before, but the news was actually fairly easy to accept because of the nature of your past life.

You were probably accidentally sent here by someone with power over the space-time continuum, and it's impossible to come back from one of those accidents. You didn't trouble yourself with coming up with a way to go back home, because you knew for a fact that it was over. You'll be here until the day you die.

You made fast friends with the two younger Durin brothers, for they were always full of questions and curiosity for you and your abilities. Many times have you had to heal them as well, for they're quite prone to trouble.

Small things were always easy to heal, so your powers proved to make you not only a very desired part of the group, but the subject of heavy praise and kind words; it's wonderful and new, for you were neither wanted nor praised in your old home once your crippling vice made itself present.

Night after night you helped them to sleep, gave them the strength to carry on, rid them of discomforts and small, painful wounds, and, essentially, made the original healer of the group, Oin, obsolete (in a good way for him, of course). Oin taught you some things about natural medicine and was, ultimately, allowed to focus on rest and fighting (which you assume is good for a dwarf of his age).

Being needed and relied on feels like heaven, and for the first time in 5 years, you have a purpose.

The true nature of your healing powers didn't become apparent to them until the fight following the Goblin Tunnels, for Thorin Oakenshield is nearly fatally wounded in his fight against Azog the Defiler, and he's left weak and dying.

The group runs as fast as their feet can carry them as those wargs and nasty orcs draw near, chasing all of you to a cliffside with plentiful trees and nowhere to go.

It's a dead end, and those foul creatures know as much.

You aren't much of a fighter so Bofur and Fili keep you ahead of them, urging you to climb the far tree with Gandalf and some of the others, and you do so without hesitation.

Fear drives your frantic climbing and trembling muscles, and, with great effort, you manage to climb far enough that those horrible dog beasts cannot reach you.

Everyone manages to climb a tree and avoid a violent death that would leave them in pieces, and you're relieved to see that there isn't much the enemy can do in this moment; that is, until they begin to uproot the trees and push everyone further back into the barely hanging on tree you already reside in.

There is absolutely no way this flimsy tree will hold all of you for long if the wargs loosen the soil around the roots, and it seems that you're not the only one to notice this.

Gandalf prepares the perfect pinecone ammo that serves as an excellent enemy deterrent, for the flames burning within the heart of the pinecones spread easily and set the cliffside alight.

The wargs retreat to escape a fiery death, but the triumph doesn't last long, for the tree begins to creak and groan as it dips beneath the weight of all 15 of you.

"T-The tree's going to fall!" You cry hopelessly, unsure what to do.

A fall from this height would kill everyone before you even had a chance to try and heal them, and this knowledge leaves an empty, useless hole in your heart.

"Everything will work out the way it's supposed to, Master Healer." The grey wizard tells you, though you can hear the unease and slight panic in his voice as well.

You open your mouth to say more, but movement catches in your peripherals and you turn your head to see what it is.

There stands Thorin Oakenshield on the thick trunk of the tree, facing the white orc with murder and hate shining in his blue-gray eyes, and your heart drops all the way down to the violent deaths below you when you realize what it is he plans to do.

The to-be King Under the Mountain abandons the tree and meets the orc in a battle, albeit short, and he loses.

Just by looking at the way that albino dog uses him like a chew toy is enough to fill you with dread, and when another orc goes in for the dying blow, you're fully prepared to experience this horrible tragedy, only it never happens.

That brave little hobbit, Bilbo, challenges the rest of the goblins one on one, and his bravery encourages everyone able to get back up and fight.

Only, this secondary fight doesn't last for terribly long, for these huge, magnificent birds come soaring out of seemingly nowhere, and they scoop up each and every one of you.

Cue a short, but also liberating, journey to the nearest, safe area (which just so happened to be a secluded and inaccessible mountain top).

As soon as your feet touch the ground you're being scooped up into a strong pair of arms, and the perpetrator breathes your name with relief on their lips.

"Are you alright?" It's Kili, the taller of the two Durin brothers.

You nod your head once and hug him in response, winding your toned healer arms tightly around his shoulders for a few beats before you pull away.

A quick glance around shows you that some of the others still have yet to touchdown on the peak with all of you, so you instead move to Fili, who had rode to his brother, and hug him next.

The blond heir firmly locks his thick arms around your middle and holds you to him for a moment, but his arms disappear as soon as Thorin is gently dropped to the ground, bloodied and broken.

Gandalf rushes over to the heavily wounded dwarf and kneels down next to his unmoving form, and Bilbo runs up behind him with wide, stunned eyes.

You pull away from Fili and rush to Thorin's side without hesitation, falling to your knees beside him as you immediately hover your palms over his body to find the biggest issues ailing him.

The internal bleeding catches your attention right away, caused by the bone crushing bite from the white warg, and you start working on healing that without hesitation.

You know that a wound such as this will hurt you, but it doesn't halt your frantic healing for even a second.

The mountain peak is dead silent while you work your magic on the unconscious Thorin, the knowledge that they would be lost without him spurring you on, and in a matter of 5 minutes he's groaning and his eyes are opening.

You feel nothing at first which tells you that soon his damaged aura will begin affecting you, so you slowly rise to your feet and move away from the still grounded Thorin to avoid falling on him if you do go down.

Pats on the back and praises are thrown your way as you separate yourself from the king, but they cease the moment Fili worriedly asks, "Wait- What... what's wrong?" He seemed to have noticed your shaky movements right away as your health begins to deplete.

You step up to Gandalf and place your hand gently onto his shoulder, mumbling with slurred words, "Gandalf, I should've told you before..."

The old man looks up at you with worried eyes, and he rises to his feet so he can grasp your trembling arms with gentle hands, "You should have 'told me before'? Told me what?"

"I..." You begin to speak, but you're unable to form another coherent thought as your legs suddenly give out from beneath you, and you slump forward into the cloaked wizard.

Gandalf releases your arm at light speed and catches you around the waist, slowly lowering you down to the ground before your eyes slide shut and your consciousness fades in place of Thorin's.

---

Gandalf the Gray was not too happy with you when you woke up sometime later, having had to save you after you saved Thorin with no prior knowledge regarding the truth about your ability.

He scolded you first, calling your actions foolish and scaring you with information on how you could have died had it been any worse and had he been any worse at his job, and then he thanked you.

"But even so, still must I say with the utmost gratitude; thank you. The service you provided was well beyond what we asked for, and much more than we deserved. After all you've been through and done for us, you would have been right to keep to yourself and not heal him. You are a very good person, Y/N, and I should like to see you survive this journey."

Is he telling you not to heal people anymore, or is he telling you to be more careful, you wonder.

Apparently this situation scared everyone shitless, because as soon as Gandalf was done getting on your case, you received countless apologies for having you heal small, meaningless wounds and for the other things you've done for them.

Of course, you tried to explain that the smaller boosts and injuries are nothing for you, but you were still apologized to a whole bunch anyways.

Fili and Kili's apologies stuck out to you the most, however.

When everyone felt better knowing that they'd informed you that you no longer need to waste your power healing them and the excitement died down, the two brothers approached with sad expressions darkening their handsome faces.

"You should have told us that we were hurting you." The dark-haired dwarf informed you sadly, taking up one of your hands in his carefully.

"We wouldn't have bothered you so much if we knew." The blond-haired brother agrees, swiping up your other hand in one of his.

Their words make you grimace, and you try to console them. "No, the smaller things don't hurt at all! I don't 'get hurt' because I heal you, I only suffer when it's a major wound that needs to heal more than just the body."

Their expressions don't change and they don't seem to fully believe you, so you try to explain in simpler terms.

You squeeze both their hands weakly, still needing rest to regenerate your own aura, then reiterate, "Think of it this way. You've got a huge jug of water about this big," you make a big circle with your arms, " and it's completely full. Now, if you take a sip of the water when you get a little thirsty and look inside again, it will look the exact same, and you can refill it super quickly... now, if you and a few others are super thirsty, dehydrated, and you need to take big drinks then it drains even more, and very soon it's almost a quarter empty. It takes longer to fill it up then, because there's way less because of how thirsty you were."

They both look at you and nod their heads slowly in understanding, but you simplify it a little more after that.

"So, what I'm trying to say is that if I do something small like help you sleep or heal a cut, maybe mend a headache, I'll only feel a little tired if that, but if it's something horrible like Thorin's wound, then it affects me more severely. It almost transfers to me, but not the physical injury, just the effect of it while my 'power' heals yours."

Everyone is listening at this point, and it seems that they all gain a better understanding of what you can do.

It seems Gandalf figured it out, though, judging by his unsurprised expression and slightly proud smile (pride because of your easy to understand explanation, most likely).

"So... what about now, then?" Kili asks, still holding your hand by your side, "What do you need?"

"To rest. Only for a little while until my water replenishes."

---

It's going to take around a day for your aura to heal and your strength to return, but, unfortunately, you don't have the luxury to just lay back and relax like you want.

You all had to stay on the move, so the dwarfs took turns carrying you on their backs.

At first you denied any and all requests for piggy back rides, embarrassed by the mere thought of being hauled around all day while you wait for your aura to heal, but it goes that way regardless.

First it's Fili and Kili, then Dori (the strongest *according to the book*), Dwalin, and, finally, Thorin.

Thorin carried you for around an hour or so, and each step he took was careful. He wanted to make your ride as comfortable as possible, and he was succeeding for the most part (you're as comfortable as someone on a piggyback ride can be).

"How are you feeling?" You ask at some point, adjusting your gentle grip around his shoulders as you do.

"I should be the one asking you that question." He replies without missing a beat, turning his head to the left slightly to catch a glimpse of you.

You don't say anything right away, looking at him with a small frown before countering, "Okay, but I asked your first."

"Truthfully, it shames me to say that I feel very good at the moment. My strength has returned tenfold, and I feel as if I've just recovered from a long rest."

"It shames you?" You ask softly, leaning your head against his carefully, "Don't let it. I chose to do that knowing fully well what I was getting myself into."

Thorin sighs heavily and shifts his grip on your legs, "I do not wish to treat you as a child. I respect your choice, but I must implore that you do not waste your life on me. It simply isn't worth it. You're too precious."

You feel your face heat up and you find that you become slightly embarrassed. "Thank you Thorin, but I think that a king is slightly more important then a commoner from another world."

"No... a king is only as strong as his people, friends, and allies. And I happen to value you as all three."

You don't argue or disagree this time and instead just nod your head once, "Then I'll say thank you again."

The rest of your conversations with Thorin are much more light hearted and wholesome, and you find that this piggyback riding isn't as bad as you initially though it would be.

[orionwhispers]

Feels Like Home // Bucky Barnes 🍂

(a/n- ok holy shit ive finally finished my first bucky oneshot. its long as fuck but im so so happy with it. pls let me know what you think. i have lots of requests and peaky stuff coming up as well. love you guys SO much) probs loads of mistakes but its 12k words and im exhausted lol. (also this is inspired by the song feels like home by bea miller and jessie reyez. highly recommend)

warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, HEAVILY implied smut, so much fluff your dentist will kill me, angst and canon level violence. 

Bucky Barnes had thought a lot about death.

He thought about it often during the war. Wondering if perhaps a bullet would pass through his gut as he ran through the trenches, or a bomb would explode under his feet as he walked across the battlefield. It was everywhere he looked, his fellow comrades bandaged and bloody, the nurses in the infirmary tent smelling of saline and strong, sweet, copper.

He thought about it more than anything with Hydra. Wishing that the torture would send him over the edge, pleading for the sweet release that death would give him. Thinking that what was waiting for him on the other side surely couldn’t be worse than what he was already dealing with.

Even when he moved into the tower, and into a routine with people who understood and trusted him, death had followed him for so long that it was like a friend.

He always thought his death would be something violent; something carnal and savage, almost poetic for him to die the same way that he had lived.

But who would have thought his demise would have been at the hands of the sleepy eyed, honey lipped, gentle girl that made him coffee and brought him raspberry donuts?

You turned his world upside down on a Thursday. He remembers it well, and thinks back to that autumn morning like it’s a picture he keeps in his wallet or a well thumbed book next to his bed. It doesn’t matter what the circumstances are - he could be in battle, bloody and bruised, or five thousand miles away from you on a mission in the depths of some town he doesn’t know the name of, feeling himself start to crumble - and the thought of you is enough to steady him, your light luring him back to rationality, his girl.

His sweet girl.

He owed it all to you, and the way you changed his life on that rainy, dreary day and made him realise that home wasn’t a place, it was a person.

The compound was quiet. The Avengers all in a state of limbo; exhausted from hours of travelling, the ghost of bruises and cuts on their knuckles and blood under their fingernails. But more powerful than anything: the red hot relief to finally be back in the tower after two weeks.

The rest of the group fell into their own routines, their own little grooves that they had mastered over the however many years they had been saving the world. The showers were turned onto the highest setting, the smell of Sam’s ridiculously expensive mango shower gel and Nat’s deep, woody body scrub lingering across the floor. Comfort food was made in the kitchen, the throaty sound of laughter and bare feet on the tiles as popcorn sizzled and snapped on the stove. Blankets were draped across the sofas, mugs of hot chocolate and cans of sweet, dry beer passed around and over tangled limbs.

It was something they needed - something they craved. That comforting, warm feeling of family, something so trivial and domestic that it was enough to dull whatever they had been faced with, that for the evening they could think of terrible rom coms and laughter and teasing, rather than civilians dying and the smell of blood and the sound of gunshots. For those stolen moments of happiness after days of heart ache and exhaustion - it was enough.

Well, it was enough for almost everyone.

Whilst the others were arguing over the remote and whether peanut M&Ms were better than chocolate, Bucky was in his room with the lock bolted, methodically cleaning his weapons with surgical precision. He had been at the compound for almost six months, and despite the amenities and luxuries that came with his new home, he felt anything but comfortable.

He liked the people he lived and worked with - and most of them liked him too, but that didn’t do anything to dull the ache in his skull and the uncertainty deep in his gut. After so many years of not being in control of his own mind and body, of having his thoughts and feelings altered by people who saw him as nothing more than a weapon, he was struggling to adjust to his new life.

Amongst all of the chaos though, he had Steve.

The familiar sunshine haired boy that helped ease the storm. His best friend, his brother. The once scrawny teenager that he would follow to the end of the world, all guns blazing, no questions asked. Deep down, he knew that the golden boy was perhaps the only reason he was still at the tower, blending in with all the rest of the wonderful, shining eyed superhero’s around him, making him stick out like a sore thumb.

He knew they thought he could change, but he wasn’t so sure. Sometimes - like the times when he found himself grinning at something Clint said in the back of the jet, or when Nat patted his shoulder in thanks when he covered her in battle, or when he sat on the roof with Steve, talking about faded memories of pin up girls and Coney Island, he felt like perhaps he could be the man Steve thought he was. But then he caught sight of himself in the reflected surfaces of his bathroom, or felt the ricochet of his gun against his shoulder or the blood coating his hands and dripping down into his boots - and he remembered that sometimes people just don’t change.

He listened to the rain as he folded away his weapons that day. Listened to the way the patter of the water muffled the noises of laughter and playfulness coming from the lounge and dissolved into silence. It was too early to retire into bed, and besides, after a mission like the one they had come from sleep wouldn’t be on his mind for a while, his body was still racing with adrenaline.

Then, amongst the patter of raindrops and mingle of voices, he heard something.

A commotion in the hall. His body was finely tuned to pick up anything out of the ordinary, and he could hear the magnetic whir and clang of the elevator as it reached their floor. Everybody was crowded in the living room, which meant it would be somebody from outside the inner circle, and usually that would send cold chills down to his spine, but for some reason this time it didn’t.

Ghosts. Premonitions. Fortune telling. All a load of horse shit to him. He might have been to space and been frozen in time and met some really, really, bizarre people - but there were some things he just didn’t believe in.

Until that rainy day.

It was like a magnetic pull inside of him, when he wanted to lock himself away and not speak to anyone, something inside of him made him want to get up and join the rest of the crew in meeting the stranger.

Even before he saw your face you had him, hook, line and sinker.

So he begrudgingly got to his feet and stood in the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame, metal arm out of sight. Steve glanced at him quickly with his eyebrows raised but he ignored him, focusing his eyes on the elevator as it slowly started to open.

Tony looked up suddenly as the doors opened , furrowing his brow at the semi circle of avengers watching him intently. Rather then question it he rolled his eyes, exhaling loudly and stepping forward, gesturing wildly with his arms. “Gather round, gather round, circus freaks. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Because Tony’s personality took up almost the entire room by himself, he had to step to the side for everyone to even get a glimpse of who he was talking about. They waited patiently, with crossed arms and gentle smiles as you stepped out of the shadows.

Bucky felt himself freeze.

You looked so... scared. Not in the traditional sense, not like you were terrified of them or fearing for your life, but the kind of alarm that always trudged through his blood, the feeling of unease and instability, as though you didn’t really belong.

Everybody fell into their roles the way he knew they would. You were young, probably not much older than the Parker kid, and that was why Nat and Steve stepped forward instantly, very protective of you before they even knew your name.

Your hair was mused and loose, eyes wide and lips puffy, as if you had just woken up. You were dressed all in black, baggy clothes and no makeup, your fingers interlocked, your rapid heartbeat pulsing in his ears.

And for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Everyone, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Tony said, one arm resting gently on your shoulders, pushing you forward.

Bucky had to stop himself from saying your name aloud, wondering why he wanted to taste it on his tongue.

As everybody spoke, introducing themselves with just enough reservation to make you feel comfortable, your eyes met, and his heart stopped. Your eyes were more white than not, a little glossy and swimming with uncertainty, and he felt the urge to do something, anything, to make you feel even a little bit calmer.

The feeling was so foreign that he stepped back, tearing his gaze away from you, suddenly unnerved. He didn’t miss the way you exhaled, and he pretended not to notice the way his body seemed to pine for the warmth he had felt when your eyes met.

Bucky heard him whisper to Nat, his usually sardonic voice dripping with genuine concern. “Keep an eye on her, for me, please.”

And although he knew Tony would never ask that of him, he knew that without a doubt, he would.

—————————————————————-

Those next few days, you stayed hidden in your room - which just so happened to be opposite his own.

Despite that, he never saw you. Not even once.

You weren’t at any team meetings or debriefings, you were never nestled in one of the chairs in the lounge, never sat on the balcony watching the sunrise or slicing up strawberries and grapes in the nook in the kitchen.If it wasn’t for the small, barely there noises you made every so often, he would have thought you had left.

Through the vents he could occasionally hear the whine of your door and the gentle sound of your footsteps at midnight darting to the kitchen. Sometimes he heard Wanda speaking softly to you, so kind and gentle that he could even hear the anxiety leave your voice for a little while. He’d hear Tony’s loud and obnoxious knock in the middle of the night, the two of you leaving for the lab under the cover of darkness.

Bucky hardly slept. It had never come smoothly to him, slipped through his fingers too easily like grains of sand. He used to train to block out the noise, attacking a punching bag until all he could hear was the steady thump, thump, thump of his knuckles. Steve had taken him running whenever the nights got too long or too loud, sweating out the frustration he felt as they darted through the streets at midnight, but now he found another way to pass those hours in the dead of night.

There was something oddly comforting to him about laying upright in his bed, reading whatever novel somebody had leant him and told him was a classic, listening out for the shuffle of your footsteps from the other side of the hall. He remembered what it had been like for him when he first moved into the tower. He knew how hard it was, moving into a space that wasn’t your own.

So now he found solace under the breeze of his ceiling fan and the slow drip of that one leaky tap that he still hadn’t fixed and the low hum of whatever sitcom you were watching vibrating through the walls.

He liked to make sure that you were safe. You were obviously scared of something, or someone, and it made him feel better that he was keeping an ear out for anything out of the ordinary. He told himself that it was for the benefit of the whole tower, but that didn’t explain the ease he felt in his chest when he finally heard the quiet, even snores coming from your room, and the way that it made his own eyes start to close.

The next time he saw you in the flesh was almost a month after you had moved in.

He was in the lounge with the rest of the avengers that had slept most of the morning away, Sam nursing a cup of vanilla coffee and Steve watching the news as he made some kind of bizarre and disgusting protein shake. Bucky sat on the sofa with his back ramrod straight as he did the daily crossword, something about filling out the empty boxes comforting him.

It was a rare free day and he had slept in a little longer than usual, only falling asleep after he had heard the squeak of your bed frame and the whir of your fan flittering in his ears. When he had woken up your room was still, and he assumed you were still asleep as he headed out for his run, but by the sound of your voice in the stairwell you had obviously slipped out unnoticed, and he couldn’t help feeling impressed.

He perked up instantly when he heard you. He listened to the soft way you spoke against the sharp click of Pepper’s heels against the floor, his eyes darting to the doorway as he heard you approach. He saw the girls first, the three of them flanking you like a security detail. Wanda and Natasha at your sides, Pepper walking slightly ahead; gesturing with her jewellery clad hands as she spoke to you.

You faltered as you stepped forward, eyes widening like a deer in headlights as you noticed the boys watching you from the other side of the room. Sam awkwardly removed his hand from where he had shoved it down a cereal box, waving kindly with lucky charm marshmallows stuck to his fingers. Steve - ever the gentleman - gave you his classic golden retriever smile, greeting you as though you were an old friend.

You relaxed a little at that, and Bucky felt himself deflate. He would never be the most warm and welcoming person, not anymore, and he wondered why that bothered him so much when it came to you.

Pepper gently placed a hand on your shoulder, and you leaned into her touch like a cat. “Boys. You remember (Y/N).”

You looked up, waving a hand that was hidden by your oversized sweater sleeves. “Hello again.”

A shy smile. Big eyes. A voice like melted chocolate. Bucky felt fourteen again.

He wanted to say something to you, but he couldn’t get any words out. Pepper was on a mission though, perching her hand motherly on your shoulder and escorting you forward. “Right. The lab. This way!”

Bucky’s gaze followed you all the way down the hall, not stopping even when you faded into nothingness. He turned slowly, feeling Steve and Nat watching with matching smirks on their faces, their eyes flickering with childish glee.

He scoffed.

“Shut up.”

———————————————————

As the weeks passed, Bucky hardly caught a glimpse of you. He didn’t even realise he was searching for you, his eyes just flitting over the empty chair at meal times or trailing through the gym, wondering if he might make out the bounce of your hair or the curve of your lips.

Not that he had been thinking about your lips. He definitely hadn’t been thinking about your lips.

You had piqued his interest though. He thought of the way he had been when he first moved into the tower, and knew that the first few weeks were always the hardest. You spent the majority of the time in your room, occasionally leaving for Tony’s floor or the lab, but always hiding in the night and the shadows, falling just out of reach before he got lucky enough to see you.

Fortunately, there were enough recon missions to fill his days. He found distraction in snow capped mountains and dry, dusty deserts, searching for old HYDRA bases or intel that might have been missed. His mind was filled with coordinates and strategy plans, and that worked for a little while. Until the jet landed and he found himself wondering if you would be there with the rest of the team welcoming him back, and every time he was left feeling a quick, pang of disappointment when you weren’t.

Eventually though, things started to look up.

At three in the morning, like clockwork, he began hearing your door squeal as you opened it, and then the sound of sock clad feet padding through the hallways. The first time it happened his heart leapt and he jolted upright, convinced that something bad had happened. He didn’t relax until he heard Natasha speak, voice crystal clear despite the early hour.

“You ready?”

He soon discovered that Natasha had taken you under her wing, and was helping you spar at the times you felt the most comfortable - when the rest of the building was asleep. He knew he wasn’t the only person who was curious about you, wanting to know if you had any powers, and Nat had stopped Steve from asking a million different questions about you.

He didn’t want to make you retreat once again, so he left it alone.

Eventually, you started sleeping in, getting more comfortable and leaving your bed much later than before. The others still kept their distance, entering the gym just as you were leaving, drenched in sweat and smiling. The first time that Bucky saw you smile like that was after a run with Sam, and he swore his knees almost buckled at the sight of you, wide eyed and sparkling like a diamond, sucker punching the air right out of his gut.

It was just about dawn when he next saw you, the sun barely risen, the compound bathed in a golden, ethereal light. No matter how many early mornings they had had, the kitchen still smelt like triple shot espresso and cans of red bull every day, sleepy eyed avengers mumbling and grumbling as they fought over who got to use the coffee machine first. Bucky smiled smugly across his mug of instant grounds that Sam had so tastefully called, “disgusting cheap crap,” as his $3 coffee capsule got crushed once again.

Steve made some quick joke as he towelled off his hair from his shower, but his words crumbled into TV static when Bucky saw you coming off the elevator. You were limping, just a little, but enough to make his heart thunder in his chest. You were smiling though, wide and happily. As bright as the full sun, and Bucky wanted to stay in your warmth for a little bit longer. Natasha held onto you as though you weighed less than a newborn baby, and the two of you stumbled towards your room. Before you disappeared you shot a small and hesitant smile at the boys, one that pierced through Bucky like a steel bullet.

He wanted to keep quiet but he couldn’t. Not after he had seen you.

“You don’t think Natasha is being to hard on her?” He said finally, clearing his throat in an attempt to sound nonchalant.

“Why do you care?” Sam had asked, halfway through a breakfast burrito that was dropping more food on his shirt than into his mouth.

“Camaraderie.” He quipped.

“Camaraderie my ass. Remember that time I almost broke my leg sparring with you? You made me walk myself to the clinic.”

“That’s because you were being whiney and dramatic.”

“Oh? Well I’ll tell you what I think. I think that Mr Barnes here is - ”

“Alright. That’s enough.” Steve said finally, cutting the conversation short, knowing exactly where Sam was going with his thoughts and not wanting to put his best friend through any embarrassment about his... interest in you.

Sam gave him a glare that said that the conversation was definitely not over, but Bucky ignored him, his eyes trailing the hallway you had walked through, his belly aching and flipping from the way that you had looked at him, filling him with a warmth that didn’t dim even long after he had fallen asleep that night.

——————————————————————-

Things really started to change at midnight. When the sky went black and turned into a blanket of obsidian and twinkling stars, that was when both of you came alive.

The nightmares were back, and they were bad. Blood. Metal. Rust. The pain that felt as though his bones were snapping one by one. Gasping for air. Sweat. Fists. Gunshots. No longer could he stay asleep listening out for you, his body didn’t want him to feel comfortable, safe, whatever the way you made him feel. He wouldn’t allow himself the luxury of something as sweet as you. He was not a man that deserved good things, and he knew he certainly didn’t deserve you.

The compound was so big and he felt so small in his bed. Sometimes he swore he could feel the walls closing in, even though he knew his quarters were more than triple the size of some of the hellholes he had been trapped in. He needed space. He needed air. And that was what led him to wander the hallways like some kind of spectre as the city roared and thundered and thrived below him.

The rooftop had always been his favourite spot. Tony loved using it for parties, setting up a bar and filling the hot tub with champagne and hiring some idiot to blast stupid music that made Bucky want to smash his head against a brick wall. But it was often just used by the team, swimming laps in the pool and laughing under the summer sun, strawberries and wine in the spring and late night swims in the rain in the winter, making Clint jump in the frozen water naked after he lost a round of poker.

It was one of the rare places that Bucky felt truly safe. Out in the open air, watching the water sparkle teal under the stars, the city so big and beautiful, lights flickering and horns blaring. He came up when things went bad, losing himself in the noise and the ice cold air. He often pulled a chair out to the edge, drinking a beer that had no effect on him but somehow made him feel a little bit lighter, just watching the world go by.

He hadn’t been up there in a while. The nightmares had stopped for a while, incidentally the same time you arrived, but recently they had started to trickle back in, like rain at the end of summer.

He was in a pair of flannel pyjama pants and a henley with far too many holes in, cradling a mug of cocoa with a shot of dark rum as he stepped off the elevator, stopping suddenly when he noticed the outdoor lights shining brightly. He knew that everybody else was asleep, and his field instincts kicked in quickly, until he noticed the soft lilac hue of your satin pyjamas glistening under the moon.

Perhaps he should have left. He knew that you liked to keep your distance and God, did he understand that, but his feet seemed to stay cemented to the floor. You were luring him like a ship to a lighthouse, beckoning him to follow you, and who was he to resist?

You were bent over a row of plants and flowers, watering them from a buttercup yellow can, your fingers stained with mud. You moved gently, tentatively fondling the leaves and petals and clipping away any stray stems and weeds. He watched you with curious eyes, amazed at how something so simple could show so much about your character. After so long of not seeing you he felt lucky to catch a glimpse, and he didn’t want to do anything to scare you off.

That was, until his foot caught the edge of one of the sun loungers.

For a trained assassin, he could really be a dumbass sometimes.

You looked up quickly, eyes as wide as dinner plates, your face just starting to flush. He held up his free hand, all the air leaving his lungs like a balloon. He stepped back to leave you in peace, but then he heard you softly say:

“Wait.”

So he did.

You looked nervous but enchanting, with your mussed hair and fluffy slippers and long eyelashes. You smiled timidly, but warmly, and looked at him. Really looked at him. And something about that made him feel truly seen, for the first time in a long time.

“Bucky, right?” A pause lingered in the air, he was suddenly face to face with you and somehow all of his words dissolved into the night air. You mistook his turmoil for something else, and straightened up, the trowel in your hand spilling dirt onto the floor. “Oh I’m so sorry. Do you prefer James? Or...”

“Bucky!” He said, almost shouting, and then calmed himself down. He could feel a blush rising up his throat from his outburst, but if it meant you would look at him the way that you were, then he would happily embarrass himself forever.

A moment passed, the stars overhead round and full despite all of the pollution in the city air, and for once Bucky didn’t find them the most beautiful thing he had seen.

“What are you doing?” He asked before he could stop himself.

“Oh, um.” You were a little flustered, the apples of your cheeks rounding and your lips twitching up, like you were laughing at a joke he so desperately wanted to be a part of. It was infectious. You were infectious, and the ice cold assassin felt the frost around his heart start to thaw.

“Tony got them for me.” You said, barely meeting his gaze. “After everything.” You stopped awkwardly and cleared your throat. His interest was piqued but he knew better than to probe you, instead letting you ramble. “He thought it would be good for me to have something to take care of. Something to look after, you know?”

He nodded.

“It’s not much, but sometimes coming up here and watering them just takes my mind off of things, you know?” You said, somewhat absentmindedly. He watched as you stroked the petals, pushing your finger into a droplet of water on the leaves. He wasn’t much of a gardener but he recognised a few of the potted plants. Forget me nots, African violets, buttery yellow primrose and icy purple orchids. You had other things too, sweet mint and thyme and rosemary, and budding stems of strawberries and blackberries and tomatoes.

It was amazing how much life you had grown along the usually industrial looking balcony. It was rare to see something thrive amongst the smoke of the city,

“I like it up here too, it’s peaceful.” He said, looking out at the skyline and smelling the crisp, cool air.

You mistook his honesty for an annoyance at breaching his personal space, and held your hands up apologetically. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” You were about to make excuses and leave, not wanting to upset the very handsome man who had occupied far too much of your brain anymore, but he stepped forward and said quickly:

“No! In fact, I er - I think I like it much more now.”

You smiled, and oh boy, did Bucky know he was done for.

———————————————————-

Bucky started to like the nights.

After the first midnight meeting it somehow became unspoken for the two of you to meet up on the rooftop. Bucky never wanted to overstep or make you feel uncomfortable, but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to see you again in the privacy of the twilight, the moonlight casting gold flecks into your eyes.

It should have been awkward. An ex HYDRA puppet and a girl with a blurry past that had just joined the biggest crime fighting organisation in the world should have found it hard to open up to one another, but somehow that didn’t happen.

You both kept the conversation light, the silences were warm and comfortable, and everything felt bizarrely natural. You’d often be preening your plants and Bucky would be sat on a lounge chair, reading a book and sneaking glances at you. You talked about the city, he told you how much it had changed since the 40’s, and you told him about the crappy apartment with no heating and a nest of owls you lived in before Tony took you in.

Family never came up, it was a subject you danced around and Bucky respected your privacy. He told you about his though, it slipped out accidentally when he saw you preening foxgloves the colour of ripe and juicy plums - and how they reminded him of the ones his mother once had in the window box of their kitchen. Somehow the memory hit him like a sucker punch to the gut, and you expertly swerved the conversation onto something else. It lingered in his mind for the rest of the night, only dimming when he came home from a workout the following morning and saw a little vase filled with purple petals and a book titled “Caring For Foxgloves” left outside of his door.

His smile didn’t fade the whole rest of the day, even through Sam’s relentless teasing.

He remembered you talking about your favourite cafe off campus, and the white hot chocolate and raspberry donuts you would kill for, and took an hour detour from his running route to pick them up for you both to share later that night.

It was amazing, how this girl he only knew through the sounds from his wall was now sitting with him in the early hours of the morning, talking to him like he was a real person and not just some shitty science experiment. You exchanged books, giving him ones that you thought he would enjoy, and he devoured them in less than a week, finding traces of you between the pages.

The two of you never sat right beside one another. You knew his past and you were cautious not to overwhelm him, always leaving generous inches and metres between you both. For the first time in a long time Bucky didn’t want somebody to give him space, he craved those moments when your fingertips would brush as he helped you pot a plant, when your thighs would touch as you leant over him to watch the stars, when he could feel your warmth orbiting him like a planet.

He used to loathe the night time, but now, he spent the whole day aching for the sun to set so he could be with you.

Eventually, as you grew closer with him, you also grew closer with the team, and soon you were joining them sporadically for movie nights and “Friends” marathons and training. You mainly stayed with Wanda and Nat, the two girls sparring with you and showing you the ropes and coming from a place you could understand the best, but you always ended up back next to Bucky - and he loved it.

The rest of the team noticed too. The way that you brought Bucky out of his shell and he helped you to feel grounded. Steve instantly saw that the smile on his best friends face was wider than it had been in fifty years, and he enjoyed watching the two of you together, happy his best friend was happy.

Bucky felt his own change, too. He was no longer a blushing, stuttering mess around you, (well, not completely. He was still a wreck when you smiled at him, or laughed, or did basically anything) but he had found a comfortable middle ground in your friendship, the two of you able to tease and joke with each other like old friends. Finding ways to talk the whole night and day away, watching the sky turn from obsidian to sweet purple and then milky blue, both of you wondering how you had managed to once again miss an entire night quicker than a snap of fingers.

He knew that he was in deep when you got cleared for your first mission.

He remembered waking up, running with Steve, drinking coffee and making eggs, all whilst pretending he wasn’t looking over his shoulder waiting for you every few seconds. Sam came in with a smug smile and stole a slice of toast, buttering it until it was dripping and eating it in seconds, his brow furrowing a little as he watched Bucky.

“What?” Bucky asked, shooting him a curious glance.

“Aren’t you gonna say goodbye to your girl?”

“She not ‘my girl’.” Bucky said through a mouthful of coffee, hating how the words made him feel.

“Oh, right. Of course not. It’s not like the two of you don’t spend every second of every day and every night together, and it’s not like you’re totally head over heels -”

Bucky decided it would be easier to just cut him off, taking his frustration out on the eggs he was now whisking a little too hard. “Why would I say goodbye to her?”

“You didn’t hear?”

He shook his head, suddenly feeling a million tiny needles prickle his skin.

“Bruce signed her off. She’s heading to Madrid with Nat.”

“She’s what?”

That was all it took for him to leave, Sam watching him closely and smirking to himself. Not noticing until it was too late that the pan had started smoking, and the smell of burnt eggs wafted through the air, and Sam was left alone to grab the fire extinguisher and coat the meal in clouds of white foam.

Bucky stormed through the halls, he wasn’t quite sure what his plan was, his mind felt like a bowl of alphabet soup and he couldn’t quite place his anger or frustration, but that didn’t stop him from tearing through the rooms with a face like thunder. He found Tony in the conference room, finalising the mission plans and murmuring under his breath. Bucky feet moved him forward before he could even compute it.

“You signed her off?”

Tony exhaled loudly, and with obvious frustration spun round on his three hundred thousand dollar shoes.

“I was wondering when you would pitch in your two cents.”

“Do you think she’s ready?”

“Yes I do.”

“What if -? What if something happens? What if something goes wrong? What if - ”

“It won’t.”

“What if it does?”

“Look, Barnes. I know you and (Y/N) have been getting on well, and I know that she’s opened up a lot because of you -” He paused, mulling over the distaste in his mouth. “... As much as that might irritate me. But you don’t know what she’s like on the field, she’s brilliant.”

Bucky didn’t doubt that for a second, but his blood was as cold as ice. Missions went wrong all of the time, even a simple recon with Clint ended up with them both littered in bullets, and the mere thought of that made his head spin. He had no real reason to be so overprotective of you, but he truly couldn’t help it, everything in him was screaming at him to keep you safe.

“Are you even sure that...”

“Bucky?” He felt like a scarecrow shoved in a pool of mud, stuck straight and stiff as you said his name and rendered him totally tongue tied. He wondered how much you had heard, and he felt like there was an ice cube trailing down his spine.

“Aha! There she is! Superwoman!” Tony said, clapping his hands together, always knowing how to diffuse the tension.

He turned around and felt his heart jack hammer in his chest. He could see Nat, but his eyes totally passed over her, because you were there: your hair tied up and back from your face, subtle makeup with long eyelashes and syrupy lips, a black and powder pink tactical suit that fit and hugged every curve and bow of your body. His brain totally let him down, short circuiting at the mere sight of you. You looked so happy and healthy and glowing, and also like you could knock him out with a single punch - and good god would he let you.

“Bucky I was erm, I was looking for you. I wanted to say goodbye.” You clasped your hands together, appearing so sweet and shy, a total contrast to the femme fatale you portrayed.

“Natalia!” Tony said quickly, and for once Bucky was grateful for his interruption. “Come and look at this strange bird with me.”

All of you knew it was quite possibly the worst fake distraction ever but you ignored it. Nat just rolled her eyes and followed Tony to the balcony, but not before wiggling her eyebrows at Bucky.

You moved forward tentatively. “I wanted to tell you this morning but I couldn’t find you.” You weren’t quite sure why you were so cautious and apprehensive, desperate to speak to him. You had been travelling and fighting for as long as you could remember, you had spent many years alone and entered the battlefield countless times - and yet, that morning as Bruce gave you the all clear, the only person you wanted to see or speak to was Bucky.

“I was running, I’m sorry.”

You smiled, and it made him smile. “Well I’ve found you now.” You stepped forward, Bucky inhaled air so sharply it almost sliced the back of this throat. “I wanted to say goodbye, and that I’ll see you soon.” You paused, then blinked up at him almost cheekily. “Would you do me a favour? If you have time? Could you water the plants for me?”

He grinned, toothy and white. “Already on it.”

“Goodbye, Bucky.”

He put his hand on your shoulder, and he swore he could feel you melt into his touch, or maybe that was his knees buckling at his stupidity and the way that you were looking up at him. He wanted to say a million things, but instead he settled for: “Goodbye, (Y/N). Be safe, okay?”

“Of course.”

He watched as you packed your things and headed to the jet, the rest of the crew coming out to say their farewells and wish them luck. His eyes were trained on you as you spoke to Tony, nodding your head as you listened to him. He felt Natasha sidle up next to him, her hair shining copper in the sun.

“She’ll be alright, Barnes.”

“I know. But - ”

“I’ll take care of her. Promise.”

“Thank you, Nat. Good luck.”

“Don’t need it!”

Three hours later and he was in the gym, punching out his excess energy. The bag was splitting at the seams, and sand trailed sadly onto the floor. Bucky ignored it, his hits getting harder and faster, his blood pounding in his ears. Since you had left he had taken to pacing the floor and biting his nails down to the wick, hovering over Steve as he spoke to Nat through her wire. He only left when he realised that he was driving everybody else crazy with his obsessive twitching and marching, taking out his frustration on whatever he could rip apart with his fingers.

“Tony’s going to kill you if you break anymore punching bags.” Steve said from behind him, his voice echoing around the dark room.

“Hmph.”

He couldn’t stop. His hands were red raw and his knuckles were scraped but they would heal soon, and he’d go back to tearing them up all over again, anything to get rid of the adrenaline and nausea that had been swimming in him since the morning.

A minute passed. And then two. And then three. He exhaled, pausing, his hands midway in the air. He was about to say what he had always known, right from the second your eyes met that crisp autumn day, and Steve was the only one he could confide in.

“I think I’m falling in love with her.”

Steve hardly even blinked, just clapped a hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting, his brother.

“I know.”

Because of course he did. He knew it from the way Bucky smiled, the way he was lighter, brighter, like you had made him switch on and appreciate the little things around him. He had seen Bucky doe eyed and loopy over hundreds of girls back in the day, he knew how he got, but this... this was something bigger, magnetic, the clash of two electric people.

There wasn’t much Steve could say, he was great at saving people but not so good at the more personal side of things, he still turned into a puddle when Sharon looked at him. Instead he laughed, his teeth white as snow and his eyes playful and teasing. “You got it bad, dude.”

Despite everything Bucky smiled. Because yeah, he did.

————————— ————————————

You came back from the mission unharmed and euphoric.

And the second. And the third. And the fourth.

Bucky still tracked mud across all of the carpets and tapped his feet mindlessly for the entirety you were gone, but he was getting better. Steve had even bought him a joke present of a pear shaped and scented stress ball, but Bucky had ripped it in half when there was gunfire in the background of your coms, followed by an apologetic “Sorry!” from Sam. Bucky had then poured all of the tiny fruit smelling beads under the duvet in Sams bed, and then put all of his toilet paper on the holder backwards, knowing how annoyed he got about it.

Every time you came back you were exhausted and elated and beaming, and after having a nap and a shower you spent the rest of the day with the team, but the nights were reserved just for him. You grew even closer together. Steve had watched from the rooftop doorway gobsmacked one evening when he had left his phone up there, watching the way you two interacted, the way that he curled into your touch, never away from it. You got electric shocks when your fingers touched, you would blush when his knee playfully nudged yours at something stupid somebody had said at dinner, and you found yourself falling asleep to the image of chestnut hair and ocean eyes. You had crushes before, but this was all consuming, the kind of thing that made your stomach erupt in butterflies and your eyes turn into hearts.

You were worried that it might be one sided, but Bucky was totally, completely, smitten.

He watched you. Noticed the way that you smiled and laughed and tucked your hair behind your ear. He thought of the girls in the forties, with their painted lips and curled hair and immaculate clothes, and how you blew all of them out of the water, even in just your flannel pyjamas and bunny slippers. The coil in his belly when he looked at you reminded him of being sixteen and holding hands at the pictures, but that had just been a flicker, and this was a forest fire.

The first mission with the rest of the crew was when things went sour.

He got to see how you acted first hand. The way that you were quiet in the jet, but smiling strawberry red, taking in all of the orders that Steve meticulously laid out, your eyes wide and eager. He watched you as he helped Nat set up the guns and stock the ammo, the way that you toyed with the knife in your boot, the gears in your head turning and working on something he was desperate to discover.

He hadn’t been on a mission with you, not only because they way you looked in your suit and the way that you grinned would have led to him inadvertently getting a bullet in his head, but because from what he had heard, your fighting styles were totally different. Your powers and your skills were a mystery to him, one that he badly wanted to solve, but you kept that side of you hidden and guarded with barbed wire, and he respected that.

You were paired off with Sam. Nat with Clint. Bucky with Steve. Wanda with Vision. It was a simple mission, there was some intel locked in a safe of a seemingly abandoned factory in the south of Russia. Tony had discovered the place crawling with hidden members of a gang that specialised in human trafficking and organ farming, and he needed what was hidden below to help blow it out of the water.

It was going to take a lot of skill. There was no doubt that the enemies would be heavily armed, possibly even with illegally manufactured weapons, and all of you had to keep your heads straight the entire time. He had wanted desperately to be paired with you, to keep his eye on you, (not that you needed it) but he knew it was out of the question. Instead, as you all split up a few miles away in the woods, he grabbed your hand quickly and rubbed his finger across your knuckles, looking at you intently, his eyes swimming with sincerity.

“Be careful.” He said, his gaze locked on yours.

You smiled. “Always.”

He stuck his middle finger up at Steve’s smug face as they headed towards the factory.

Things were going well. As well as they could be when they were covered in blood and sweat and surrounded by the sound of gunfire and cracking bones. Nobody had been hurt so far, the coms quiet as the pairings cleared their sectors and worked their way down to the basement. Bucky had just pushed the last man over the railing and onto the concrete floor below when he heard the crackle of panicked voices in his ear, his eyes darting to Steve.

“Shit! Fuck!”

“Sam?”

“It’s (Y/N)! Fuck! One of them took her!”

“What?” Steve said instantly, switching straight from solider to captain, immediately alert.

“There was too many, it was an ambush!”

“Sam just stay there and - ” Steve tried to keep his voice steady and level, but it seemed as though the walls were closing in. To make matters worse, he saw a blur of black in his eye line, and watched helplessly as his best friend tore down the stairwell, his footsteps a clap of thunder. “Fuck! Bucky!”

Bucky knew that he was going to get one hell of a lecture and probably some six week course in impulse in the force, but all that he could think about was you, his blood was ice cold, his body numb and his brain conjuring up a million different pictures of you that made him feel sick to his stomach. He leapt over the bannister and landed haphazardly on the floor, his gun cocked and ready. His eyes were nothing but jet black pupils, scanning for your face through the halls.

He knew that you and Sam had been working through what used to be the laboratory, and that was on the other side of the building. His legs and arms moved almost mechanically, determined to get to you as quickly as possible, taking out anybody that stood in his way. He could hear Steve calling from behind him, and the sputter of the others in his earpiece, but his focus was on one thing. You.

The men were big and brawny and mean. Tattooed arms and shaved heads and gold teeth. Bucky shredded through them like they wore nothing. He flung them over tables, threw them through doorways and dragged them up by the roots of their hair. They were strong though, laughing at him through coffee stained teeth, loving his anger and desperation.

“Where is she?” He snarled at one particularly vicious thug brandishing two assault rifles.

“Who? Your whore? Dead.”

He snapped his neck like it was nothing but a twig.

He ran from room to room, his boots squealing across blood and stray bullets, his breath as ragged and sharp as glass. Everywhere was empty. Rows of vials and big glass cylinders and cages for animal testing, there was nothing, the place completely ransacked and bare. He hissed, getting ready to fight his way through another floor until he heard exasperated grunts and the clash of metal from a small room off to the side.

He skidded into the doorway with his rifle up at his shoulder, his finger right on the trigger, ready to shoot somebody’s fucking head off. Instead he paused, his mouth agape and his hands lowering, the whole room standing still. There was a freezer. Probably for samples and test tubes and whatever crazy fucking thing they kept in a place like this, but they had used it as a cage, the handles tied with thick copper chains and padlocks. Sam was using the butt of his gun to smash his way through, and they were old and rusty and starting to crumble easily, and Bucky watched helplessly as he finally busted in, clouds of ice puffing around him.

Bucky didn’t know why he couldn’t move. Couldn’t help. But his feet were as heavy as cinder blocks, and his heart was thundering in his ears. There was a small squeal, broken and half hearted, void of anything other than exhaustion, and then the smell of tears and blood, followed by sweet mint and wildflowers. Unmistakably you.

He wanted to run forward and scoop you in his arms, press your head against the crook of his neck and get you far, far away from this place, but he couldn’t move, and so he watched as Sam tugged you into him, running his fingers through your hair, cradling you like a child, soothing you as you cried hot, wet tears into his suit. And Bucky wished with everything in him that it was him instead.

He stayed back as you flew home with Sam. He kept away when you were in the hospital with Bruce, lurked in his room when you went over everything with Tony, locked himself away when you confided in Steve. He felt as though he had failed you, no matter what the others said. He felt as though he had let you down, and the noise you had made when Sam tugged you from the depths of that tiny little box, it played in his head like a warped record, haunting him and his dreams.

For a week he kept to himself. For a week he ran a different route and trained at a gym down by the water. For a week he took his motorbike out to a shitty diner in the bad part of town and ate soggy pancakes instead of having dinner with the team, for a week he did everything he could to not see you, thinking that would ease what you had been through, but instead it left you feeling torn and hurt and completely alone.

Tony made him come in to test out a new reloading system and so he reluctantly snuck down to the figuring range under the cover of darkness. He allowed himself to get lost in the sounds of carnage and the smell of metal, until he heard soft footsteps from behind him.

“You’re avoiding me.”

You seemed so sad, and that made his heart clench.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

Silence. That had never been awkward between the two of you, ever, and yet now it was so thick you could cut through it with a knife.

You wrung your hands together, your eyes flitting around the room, never quite landing on his face. That hurt. After a moment you cleared your throat, using the toe of your sneaker to kick up dust from the floor. “Do you - do you know? I mean, has anybody said anything to you? About me?”

He shook his head. “No.” There had been a million times when it was on the tip of his tongue to pry the truth from Nat or Steve, but his respect for you was stronger than his need for answers.

He felt his stomach flip when you finally blinked up at him. You looked as though you hadn’t slept and he knew he looked worse. You were still so beautiful though, looking so young and angelic under the harsh lights and surrounded by all the weaponry. Like a powder pink rose amongst giant, violent thorns.

Unable to stop himself, he blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

“You said that.”

“Not for avoiding you. For letting you - For not being there for you.”

Your mouth was open, brows furrowed as you took in what he said. “What?”

“I should have helped you.” There was desperation in his voice, and he turned to face the targets rather than look at you, not wanting you to see him so weak.

You were silent for quite a while. It was difficult for you to digest his words, like swallowing glass. You had been under the impression that seeing you tearful and cowering and broken had scared him off, had made him look at you differently, but now you knew that he blamed himself. “Bucky...” You said, biting back emotion. “Its not your fault.” Your tone was definite. Strong. You wouldn’t let him feel guilty for something he had no control over.

He brushed you off, shifting his weight, turning playful. “Yeah I know. It was Sam’s.”

You rolled your eyes.

He clicked his tongue. He set the gun down on the table and turned to face you fully, his eyes solid and unwavering. “I am so sorry you got hurt.”

“I wasn’t - I.”Finding the right words was hard. You had so much you wanted to tell him but no idea how to, the sentences sticking to the roof of your mouth like peanut butter. “It was just...Can we? Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“The roof?”

“Yeah,” You smiled, and Bucky swore even the strongest industrial lights couldn’t even match your spark. “The roof.”

Under the stars and above the city as the cars raced and the sirens blared, you told him everything. Growing up as a lab rat, twisted and moulded by scientists and pumped full of chemicals. You told him of finding your powers and being forced to use them for vile things you couldn’t even repeat, and when he heard the tremor of your voice and saw the gloss on your eyes his whole body vibrated and turned a shade of red that it was almost black. You told him how the people that created you had wanted you back, and how Tony had saved you from being taken again, how you owed him your life.

He wasn’t good with comfort. He wasn’t good with words. He was good at tearing people apart limb from limb and shooting them from distances and breaking their bones like they were toothpicks, but for you, he would try. In a move so unlike him that it felt as though he might have been brainwashed once again, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close.

You froze at first, but eventually thawed and melted into him, grateful for his touch. You had wanted to be close to him since the first time you met but you held back, and now everything felt right, like the missing piece of a puzzle slotting into place. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he gave someone a bear hug, his nose buried in your hair, his fingers locked around you, desperate to keep you safe. Perhaps it was way back then, a time of uniforms and alleyways and candy floss and city smog, a time he used to long for with everything in him.

But now the memories of the past didn’t even compare to what he felt when he held you.

———————————————————

Everything came to a head on the first mission you had alone together.

Two months passed. Two months of subtle touches and shared smiles and inside jokes. Two months of rooftop laughter and midnight meetings and eating ice cream straight from the tub as you sat under the stars. Two months of utter, dreadful, aching, slow burning, and it was driving everybody else crazy.

Mostly Sam.

“I’m just saying,” Sam had murmured to Steve over chocolate eclairs one morning as they watched you teach a wide eyed, love struck Bucky how to play Mario Kart. “Can’t we just lock them in a room? Force them to kiss?”

“No.”

“It’s just so gross.”

Wanda flicked a grape at him, smiling cheekily as it bounced off his nose. “It’s sweet.”

He cocked a brow and tilted his head, his eyes filled with mild disgust. “Is it?”

Steve flicked through the files in his hand and licked whipped cream from his fingers. “He’s happy. Leave him be.”

“He’s a dumbass.”

“They both are.” Natasha interjected from behind them, wiping sweat from her brow and pulling off her boxing gloves. She was monotone and her face was straight, but even the black widow couldn’t bite back the smile she had as she watched the girl she now thought of as a sister and the once murderous, unbeatable assassin arguing about blue shells on the sofa.

The first mission you had been assigned together was in a small town in the Midwest somewhere. There had been unusual sightings in an airfield in the middle of nowhere, and a fugitive from Germany had been spotted in the bars that bordered the little village. Tony didn’t want to send too many people and blow the cover, just your powers of manipulation and telekinesis to apprehend the subject, and Bucky for added strength and precision.

Initially Tony was hesitant on pairing the two of you together, but there was no denying that you both worked brilliantly together. You understood one another on a level that nobody else did.

Bucky didn’t get nervous before a mission. In fact, he hardly felt anything. He spent the hours in the jet preparing himself and his weapons, going over maps and plans until they were drilled in his brain. But as the two of you took off, you with your rose blossom lips and eye watering suit and soft laughter, Bucky felt a warmth coiling in his stomach.

Apprehension.

You were staying at a cheap hotel a few blocks from the airfield. Tony had thought of everything and booked the two of you in rooms the opposite end of the hall from each other. Three floors apart. Bucky had slipped the receptionist a twenty for the room next to yours. For protection, of course.

Working undercover could be mind numbingly boring. Hours sat in a parked car in the dead of night, freezing to the bone as you watched an apartment from the bushes, trailing a suspect for days on end - but any time with you was a blessing for Bucky, even if it was sat behind the wheel of a cheap car with painful seats and broken heating.

The mission was a quiet one at first, you’d spotted the subject and had been following him, but all he seemed to do was eat crappy diner food and watch hours of cartoons. You both remained a safe distance but you managed to eventually bug his apartment when he spent the evening at a strip club. Tony and Steve updated you often, they had intercepted his phone calls and learnt that he was sending out a shipment late one night, and the two of you needed to stop it before it reached the air.

The rain was torrential when the two of you left the hotel. You smiled secretly to yourself as you walked through the slick streets, noticing how Bucky always made sure you were on the side away from the road, and how he moved so that you never got your feet in puddles. You were in the middle of nowhere following a criminal who spent far too much time eating potato chips and watching Rick and Morty, and yet you struggled to think of a time when you had been more content.

It meant everything to you.

Staying up late to listen into his apartment, Bucky buying practically the entire vending machine, the two of you pigging out and talking about nothing. You had breakfast at diners and communicated at night through knocks on the wall. Whenever you were out and the air was ice cold, Bucky would always move in close to you, his arm brushing against yours, his body your own personal heater. He wanted nothing more in those moments then to pull you into him and warm you up some other way, but instead he kept his eyes fixed forward, and bit the inside of his cheek until it bled.

You arrived at the airfield at midnight. The moon was high and the sky was dark and you both had to crouch low to be avoided by the overhead lights. You saw the suspect speaking to someone on his phone, and not long after a large white van pulled up towards him, the driver getting out and opening the boot.

“That’s it.” Bucky said pointing at the wooden crates. His voice was right by your ear, and you tried to ignore the way you shivered.“You ready?”

You nodded, smiling up at him. “Always.”

What happened next was mostly a blur. The two of you kept your heads down and your hands on your weapons, the pounding of the rain disguising your footsteps. You made it across the tarmac with Bucky covering you, his eyes alert and prepared for any imposing danger. You lifted your hands, ready to snap your fingers and apprehend the man rooting around the boxes, but before you could even feel the warm buzz of your powers through your veins, six men leapt out from the back of the van, guns raised and smoking.

“Fuck. Fuck! It’s a set up.”

Without even a second thought, Bucky pushed you aside. His body totally covered your own, and he hissed and swore, firing back at the bullets rapidly charging at you. You swung your hands and fought back, sending out flickers of fire and air, setting one of them alight and watching as he howled in pain. Bucky shot at everyone he could, sharp pierces right in the skull, always one hundred percent accurate, but his brain was whirring a mile a minute. He was trying his best to keep his eyes on you, his only goal was to make sure you were safe.

It wasn’t like he thought you were weak - far from it. He had seen you out on the field, been knocked on his ass from the aftershock of your powers more times than he could count, and he knew he had no real reason to be so worried but that did nothing to stop the prickling feeling across his skin like a million tiny little flames at the thought of you getting hurt.

You were determined to keep him safe as well though.You tossed back bullets and threw your knife through the air, smiling as it slashed through on of them, leaving him crumpled and crying on the floor. The two of you worked well together, playing off of each other’s attacks and combining your skills to get as many of them down as you could. Right when the last man hit the floor, you exhaled, and Bucky allowed himself a soft smile, looking beautiful and bruised in the middle of a rainstorm.

“Are you alright?” You heard him say, but his voice faded into static in your ears. Behind him one of them had struggled to his feet, blood spurting out from his neck, his face filled with nothing but venom, his eyes wild and vicious. You didn’t even blink, thrusting your hands forward and sending a wave of power through the air.

But it was too late.

He had already lifted his gun, a ripple of bullets flying towards you both. You leapt in front of Bucky, pushing his head down and trying to soften the impact, but his hands curled painfully around your waist, dragging you onto the floor and under him. The bullets missed the two of you by centimetres, piercing into the airplane behind you both. Your surge of power had knocked the man back and he was down once again, his body now pale and lifeless. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, and Bucky’s. He was fully on top of you, warm and solid and absolutely seething, his chest rising and falling above your own.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Bucky...” You inhaled, trying to get him to calm down and look at you but he merely shook his head, his body vibrating blood red.

“No. We’re leaving. Now.”

———————————————————-

After the ambush, it was too risky to return to the hotel, and so Steve sent out coordinates for a safe house an hour away. The ride there was completely silent. You didn’t even try to speak or diffuse the tension, you could practically feel Bucky’s anger, and the steering wheel had even started to bend from his grip.

The safe house was a small cottage. The only heat was from a tiny wood burner in the lounge, and the only food on the shelves were tinned peaches and cans of custard. Everything was oddly cosy. Pink knitted throws and round plush cushions and mismatched sofas, dried lavender tied to the wall and exposed brick and white, ceramic milk jugs. In any other circumstance you would have been happy to spend the night, but Bucky’s sour mood was quick to dim your spark.

You sighed as he threw his duffel bag onto the table, angrily heading to the sink and twisting the tab, exhaling loudly at the thin dribble of water that came out.

“Bucky.” You started to say, but he held his hand up as a warning.

“No.”

“Yes!” You snapped, needing him to understand you. “You have to listen to me.”

He dismissed you, too overcome with annoyance to even process your words. You could have died tonight, and you were acting as though it didn’t matter. “You were a goddamn idiot out there.”

“No I wasn’t!”

He slapped his hand on the wooden counter, a slap ringing through the small room.“You jumped in front of a bullet -“

“You almost got shot Bucky!”

“You almost got shot.”

“It was what was best for the mission.”

��I don’t give a fuck about the mission! I only care about you.”

“What?” Your voice was soft. A whisper. You could hear everything around you, feel him before he even stepped forward. Your breathing was shaky, adrenaline spiking through your body. The man you were in love with looking at you desperately and longingly, as though there was a physical ache inside of him.

He shrugged, because what else was there to say? He was looking deep into your own eyes, wanting to drown in them. His face was stern and hard and he was pissed, and yet, strangely, none of what had happened seemed to matter. He stepped towards you, his gaze running across your figure, looking for any cuts or bruises one of those fuckers might have left on you.

“Are you hurt?” He said finally, his face millimetres from your own.

“No.”

“Good.”

He kissed you. His hands went up and into your hair, his chest pressed against yours, his lips were warm and soft and hungry, ready to devour the one thing he had wanted since the very first time he laid eyes on you. You melted into his touch and he smiled. The kiss got more intense, teeth clashing and hands under sweaters and his body rolling against yours. You moaned in his mouth and he bit your lip and your pulses synced and raced and leapt. This was six months of pure longing and frustration and the need to portray everything that had gone unsaid for far too long.

It wasn’t long before you ended up on the floor. You were both too greedy and touch starved to even stop or make your way upstairs, you both needed the other like air, like addicts desperate for another hit. His lips were all over every bit of skin he could find, you lasted like sweat and cinnamon and vanilla and he swore he would give up everything he had if he got to feel you like this, whining and writhing and grabbing him, tugging him closer and kissing him like an angelic little devil.

He had once been a Casanova. He had once made ladies swoon and mothers blush and fathers clench their fists. Then he had been shattered, rebuilt in a way that wasn’t quite right, his body used for torture rather than pleasure. And yet, with you, the rain pelting the windows and your bodies intertwined and your lips tasting like summer strawberries and everything that he had ever dreamed of - he felt whole, for the first time in a long time. The noises you made were sinful, and his thoughts were nothing but you,you,you, the girl he had fallen in love with through the sounds in the wall and with the flowers on the roof, the girl that occupied his brain more than anything else.

Everything was too much and not enough, his head was buried in your neck, your legs were around his waist, pulling him tighter, urging him to go deeper. He had dreamt of this moment for a long time. He had imagined a candle lit dinner and red roses and awkward touches and itchy dress shirts, he wanted everything to be perfect, because you deserved the world. But in the living room of a safe house in the middle of nowhere, covered in sweat and blood and surrounded by thunder and clashing furniture seemed oddly magical for a couple with roots like yours.

After, you were cradled in the crook of his arm, with your hair splayed across his bare chest. Bucky was having a hard time controlling his rapid pulse and heavy breathing because holy shit he had just slept with the girl of his dreams, but one look at you under the moonlight looking ethereal and exhausted and everything else just dissolved into wisps or smoke.

He wanted to tell you in a better way, but he just couldn’t keep it in any longer. His brain was fizzled with pleasure and dizzy with euphoria, and he just wanted, needed you to know everything.

“I’m in love with you. I have been since I first saw you.”

You froze. After a beat, you buried your face into the flesh of his chest, your soft laughter tickling his abdomen, his fingers trailing loosely across your spine. You smiled like a child, looking up at him with big eyes and heart shaped lips.

“God. We’re both idiots. I’m so in love with you too, Buck.”

He grinned, and he felt like his heart might tear in two.

—————————————————————-

You arrived back at the compound with interlocked fingers and matching grins and Sam nearly collapsed with relief. Tony almost went into cardiac arrest.

For the first time in fifty years, happiness followed Bucky wherever he went. Things were easy, light. You were his. You crawled into his arms at the end of a bad day and you laughed into his shoulder and you held his hand and kissed him and killed him and resurrected him all at the same time. He had never felt home in this modern world, and now he looked forward to each day and whatever strange and inane adventure the two of you would end up on. The anvil that had been crushing his heart for so long had started to lighten, and he owed it all to you.

Still, there were hard days. When he woke up slick with sweat with eyes wider than the moon and an urge to wrap his hands around something, or when you thought of the past and became consumed by the memories, tears falling down your face before you could stop them. He got jealous, and he had multiple stern talks with Steve about “not threatening the interns just because they speak to your girlfriend,” you could be stubborn, take on more than you needed, return from a mission with a limp you tried to hide, one that eventually led to an argument about your reckless choices. But nothing ever lasted more than a day. You were always there for one another, with open arms and gentle smiles and the unconditional love that people would kill for.

He had been in a million different situations where he felt like he was drowning. Like something was pulling him under the depths, crushing his lungs and shattering his oesophagus. But nothing compared to how he felt around you. Nothing could match the way you consumed him completely. the electricity that coursed through his veins when your fingers brushed against his, there was nothing quite like the way his heartbeat would slow when you were around, the way that he suddenly felt warm and full whenever you laughed.

He had spent so long alone. He had spent so many years fighting a war he never signed up for, and he was exhausted. He was starved of attention but terrified of exposing himself, and he lived with a chain link fence around his heart. Your soft voice so soothing, the sweetness in your eyes and the innocent bat of your lashes disarmed him better than any soldier ever could. There was something about you - something magnetic, magical.

Your sweetness went straight to his brain. One look at you and his mind dizzied, a sugar rush that only you gave him.

Whenever somebody asked where he was from, he thought partly of Brooklyn, of his mother and Steve, of cobbled streets and dog tags and ink stained newspapers. He thought of darkness. Of being moulded and reshaped deep down in the depths of bad places, of iron and rust and metal, his hands coated in blood.

But mostly, he thought of you. Safe and warm and sweet and so good. How expensive mattresses and dim candles and hot chocolate didn’t make him feel half the way that you did. How you grounded him, calmed him, made everything feel light and coated in sunshine when he had spent so goddamn long being frozen.

So when somebody asked where he was from, he thought of you, because you were home.

[goddessofworlds]

=Made For One Another, Ch. 1=

  -An Itachi Uchiha x Reader Fic, Non-Mass AU- TW: Descriptive gore and angst -Original Clan -Y/N Nagathme -Clan Royalty -16, Itachi’s age -Yorugan, Nagathme clan kekkei genkai, unlocked in a way similar to the Sharingan “Something new?”

You moaned, putting your hand on the side of your face and looking up at your father’s annoyed and hurried expression. You didn’t understand why he was so... afraid. He didn’t tell you. “I don’t want to leave.”  

“Well, yes, I don’t want to leave either, but it isn’t safe for us here. Quickly, now.” “Isn’t safe for us here,”

you mocked him in your mind, the corners of your mouth pulling into a displeased frown. Your father had always told you lies and you weren’t going to be surprised if this was one of them. You scoffed in your head. “It’s always something with you, father... We can never stay in one place.”

You turned your attention to the empty bag splayed out on your bed. He’d told you to hurry, only pack the essentials. You assumed your mother was currently doing the same with your older sibling, hurriedly packing as Hakawa was asking her what she was doing. Hakawa eagerly peeked into your room and purred your name. “Y/N-san! We’re going on a trip! Father said we’re going to the Leaf. Aren’t you excited?!” She tugged on your sleeve and her cute grin grew as you reciprocated her eager gaze. “Very excited, Hakawa.” Despite the fact the girl was older than you, she’d held onto her childish personality. She was shorter than you by about two inches and rather petite. You picked her up often in the same manner an older sibling would do to a younger sibling. People didn’t believe she was older than you and occasionally, you found yourself forgetting that fact.

You packed exactly what he’d asked you to pack. The essentials and nothing else. Kunai, shuriken, scrolls, your journal, a few changes of clothes. Your family had made running a habit. Never have you stayed in one place for long. Your father was paranoid that someone would find out you were Nagathme royalty... A long-forgotten clan that was once prosperous, but had descended into madness as a mystery illness ran through each person and killed them off without warning.

Ah... Your family, however, knew this was just an extermination. Fearing your strength would become uncontrollable, the Kage made a plan to unleash a modified deadly illness among the Nagathme district.

You, your mother and father, Tsurime and Ryuu Nagathme and your older sibling sibling, Hakawa were the only ones to survive this mystery illness. In fear of being discovered, you fled. Changed your names and popped up years later when you were unrecognizable. Your new name, which was picked by your parents, hadn’t fit you. A flower. Ume. Japanese apricot, this flower means “elegance.” Yet you, however, were not elegant. Not one bit. Rather clumsy in a way that wasn’t charming. Annoying to you and the people around you. It’s funny. You aren’t very aware of your surroundings. You weren’t aware of the tension in the air, not the fear. You didn’t smell it like you normally would have. Maybe it’s because your senses were flooded with anger towards your parents. You didn’t realize that there was a dark presence lurking outside of your home, waiting to catch you and your family in their trap. Your father’s voice rushed you as you pulled your backpack on, taking your katana from the wall and sheathing it at your side. You followed your mother and father out of your home, protectively taking Hakawa’s hand as you started sensing the tension and the sensation of someone’s eyes on your back. Intense and piercing as they bore holes into you. You sensed the attack before it even came, but it was too late. Hakawa’s scream ripped through the silence and you quickly scooped the small girl up into your arms, protectively wrapping an arm around her waist. Your breathing hitched as you witnessed your mother and father being decapitated by a single swing of someone’s katana, the fearsome blade glittering in the moonlight with the blood of your parents. The sound was horrifying and you instinctively moved your hand to cover your sister’s eyes, but she screamed again nonetheless. Your parents’ bodies dropped into lifeless heaps, your mother’s head tumbling towards you and hitting against the toe of your boot. Her eyes. Lifeless. They’d lost that glitter of hope and excitement you’d normally seen while she was cooking at home and making you lunches before you scampered off to hang out with your friends. Then your father’s head... sluggishly bumping into the bleeding trunk of what used to be your mother’s neck. His eyes had lost the glitter of determination and independence you’d seen as he pushed open the door of your home, waving as he departed and left your family’s cute faces behind for the day. Their jaws slacked. Their expressions were horrifying and you had to bite your tongue to hold back the scream that welled up in your throat from the sheer horror of the situation. You quickly looked up to find a tall masculine figure wearing a white kimono and golden obi, now stained with the blood of your parents. Wearing a fox mask detailed with red, decorative lines on the sides of the face and spiral symbols over the cheeks. Red eyes glinted in the moonlight, reflecting back at you with a kind of malevolence you hadn’t seen before. “Run.” All it took was that one word, and you’d already broken off in a sprint in the direction that your parents were already leading you down. A sense of fear and pit of despair in your stomach that faded as you picked up your pace, your older sibling holding back choked sobs as she clenched onto your shoulders. You would have been able to get away. Had the same person not dropped in front of you and taken your sister from your arms. It was so quick. You couldn’t have stopped it if you tried. The person in front of you was holding Hakawa by her neck as she grasped and scratched at their hand tightening around her neck. Your face morphed into one of horror as you screamed for help. ... It was no use. The blade that found itself through Hakawa’s stomach glinted in the moonlight, your younger sister’s blood easily dripping off of the cool blade. You let out a sob as the person who had just drove their katana through Hakawa’s stomach disappeared in a flicker, her body dropping to the ground with a harsh and rough thud as you scrambled to your knees beside her. Tears quickly dropped from your eyes. You hadn’t realized it, but... Your Yorugan had been unlocked. Your sister smiled softly up at you in a prideful way as she reached for your face, somberly wiping the tears from your left eye. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N. You’ve finally gotten your Yorugan.” Her voice was soft. It sounded prideful despite the fact she was on the edge of death. She weakly coughed up blood as that childish glimmer in her eyes faded. “Please... Clear the Nagathme name.” ... That was... two years ago, now. You woke up in a sweat, your throat scratchy from the cry that wracked your vocal chords. You stared at your feet, pushing the blanket you were laying under off of your body. You quickly pulled your knees to your chest and wiped your eyes, trying to wipe away the tears that seemingly just kept coming. Ever since the event, you’ve had nightmares. Every single night, your mind has been wracked with memories of your mother, father and sister being killed by a man who fled and left one young girl behind to cry out their names. ... You scoffed to yourself and got to your feet, going over to your vanity and staring at yourself in the mirror. Dark circles under your E/C eyes, the dull shade of them lacking the sparkle you had when you were younger. You smiled at yourself in the mirror in an attempt to make yourself feel better and it worked.  You stopped crying just as you heard the rough knocks of someone at your front door. Three rough rasps in succession, rough enough to drag you out of your thoughts. You proceeded downstairs and went to open the door. Shortly before you had, you ran your hand through your H/C hair and huffed at the knots you had pulled your fingers through. You wiggled your fingers in an attempt to shake the hair you’d pulled from your scalp from your hands.  You opened the door and you were met with a surprising face. The face of someone you’d seen around the village. You’d known his name, of course. Everyone did. The pride of the Uchiha, as he was called. The boy who stopped a coup d’etat and massacre. Wearing oddly casual clothing, hmm... He met your gaze and simply hummed, his gaze shifting from your sunken eyes to your unkempt hair and wrinkly clothes.  Suddenly, you felt insecure, but you didn’t sense any... disgust, or displeasure in his gaze. In fact, the way he gave you a small smile definitely eliminated any feeling that he was judging you. “Y/N. Get dressed and meet me in the Uchiha district.” ... The boy knew your name? You scoffed softly as he twirled on his heel and proceeded away from your home, supposedly back to his. The fact he knew your name instilled a sense of pride in you, despite the fact there was absolutely no reason for you to feel prideful. You were being surveilled and that’s probably the only reason he knew your name. Still, you turned around and shut your door. You wondered to yourself why Itachi Uchiha of all people wanted to meet you. You shrugged it off and decided to entertain his request, proceeding upstairs to get dressed. As you thought about it, though... It still felt weird that he called you by your name. In your mind, you still had that subconscious urge to freak out because he hadn’t called you Ume, but you dropped that name a while ago. Still... It was uncomfortable. You shrugged it off and went to get dressed. --End of Chapter One.--

[yanderecandystore]

Happy holidays! how about a hot chocolate competition among the yandere ocs and the best one gets a special cabin date with darling?

Hello @teachillvibes, I'm so glad to see you again- Your requests are always so wonderful boo, thanks for requesting me this one!

Happy holidays everyone!! 🎄

TW/Tags: Sweet times cause I sure love them- // kinda like a city festival going on lol // I took your concept and change it a bit I'm sorry boo ;-; // it took me so freaking looooooooong to do it XD I'm sorry- I was kinda hoping that this could be my Christmas gift to y'all ;-;

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Hot Chocolate Competition [Yandere!OCS x Reader - Headcanon]:

🍒Bullies🍭

→Alexandra Coldwell:

If I'm being honest, she probably would have reconsidered sharing the prize with her brother before she can consider going out with you instead. Alexandra entered the competition solely because she thought it would be fun, after all she isn't really the type to get herself dirty if it isn't for fun.

She wanted to win of course, but surprisingly she did have a lot of fun learning how to make hot chocolate, especially with her brother's help. Alexandra thought it would only make sense to take her brother as her company into this free wintery vacation, yet for some reason he didn't accept her offer.

Adrien felt satisfied with helping his sister as normally his cooking skills are generally unappreciated or ignored, although he appreciated how his sister wanted to pay back for his help, he was already happy with just being the one that got to teach her something new, since it's normally the other way around.

And besides- Free vacation packages are always so lackluster to him, if it isn't a five star service then why even bother? He could literally pay for better treatment than what the prize guarantees anyway.

Still, she wouldn't have accepted it if she didn't have someone in mind already. Yeah, yeah, she knows you probably won't like the idea of spending time with her, especially all alone in the cold.

But- Hey, I think you should give her a chance, after all, isn't this the time to forgive and forget? Maybe not completely forget, but I'm sure she'll do her best to make this the best trip for you, ever!

→Adrien Coldwell:

Adrien is known as the lazy one of the twins, the antisocial, the "mean one" (let's be honest, they're both evil but in different ways-), yet people tend to not give him enough credit for his accomplishments.

Him coming out as the winner of the competition may seem shocking to many but let us all remember that this isn't just his random luck, Adrien really did work his best to win and since he is already interested in making sweet treats for himself you can only imagine how hard he wanted to be recognized at least once.

The prize that he won was a vacation to a winter resort of some kind for two people, meaning him and anyone he would like to bring. Adrien considered bringing his sister, since he felt like it would be better for her to spend Christmas in a cabin with him than at home with... both of their parents and, may he dare say, ridiculous Christmas songs. Those damn, Christmas songs.

But Alexandra made sure to refuse his offer each time he tried to bring up, saying that the place was probably runned down and filthy and that she would never step inside a place like that- Alexandra also said that it wouldn't be fair to go with him since she didn't help him, and that this was something he won on his on, he deserves to enjoy it fully.

But what a dilemma, who would have the privilege of accompanying him to such a "special event"?

You, of course. Even if he knows you would rather be far away from him and get some rest from his constant torment, it's not like he would leave you alone at all lol-

Hey give him a break, will you? I'm sure you'll have a great time with him, he promises he won't do anything stupid while you two are there.

Just let him repay you for an entire year of entertainment, dearest.

🍎Teachers🥧

→Madeline Allen:

Madeline is normally very uninterested in competing with anyone, even if the prize sounds amazing. What made her stay and see more of the event was when she noticed you in the crowd, maybe you were with your friends, although she didn't really see anyone she recognizes as your friends there-

What made her participate and do her very best to win? It was when she noticed how most of the contestants seemed to have a suspicious interest in you, something felt weird in those stares they were giving you. She is a little suspicious about the intentions behind those stares, yet she has to recognize that whenever there is a shiny diamond radiating light, it's hard to not notice. It's obvious that they recognize how shiny you are, love.

It doesn't really excuse their clingy behavior towards you, but sure, she gets why they're doing this, or why they would enter this competition in the first place. All to get your attention apparently.

Honestly, she wasn't planning on entering this competition at all, but… Hmmn, how can she say this nicely- She doesn't like these people trying so hard to get your attention, specially with the prize being something that would give any of them the privilege of having you all by themselves, no dearest, she can't let them have you like that-

Besides! Wouldn't you prefer being with nsomeone that is actually looking forward to making you happy, instead of being stuck with brats, with troublemakers and… uhn- A cosplayer…?

Anyway, all of them are pretty eccentric with their own weird little charm, she is sure they'll be fine, especially far away from you- Believe me, she is so excited about this vacation! Forget about these guys, think about all of the things you two can do!

She is already thinking about what she'll bring with her, some cozy warm clothes, maybe her favorite fuzzy blanket, maybe some of her favorite movies, some rope, an tranquilizer-

Well, who cares about the details anyway?? She is just so excited, she can't wait to give you the best of her cookies!!

→Matthew Robinson:

Matthew is a really reserved individual. Being part of big events is simply not his thing, but it was because of you and that sweet smile of yours that brought him to this place. And well…. The smile stuck in the other contestant's faces… Not that they were even half as charming as yours, on the contrary, they seemed oddly sinister.

Mischievous by their very nature, all of these people seem to be somewhat interested in you, breathing in your presence like you're oxygen itself. Disgusting. For the first time in his life he feels pissed off enough to say he wants to see them drop dead- Not that he'll actually do anything, he is nothing like that.

All of these people seemed really interested in winning that prize and hopefully taking you with them, which of course he couldn't allow it, as your only protection from these fiends.

When he won, he was too dumbfounded to even notice the hatred looks that the other competitors were giving him. He really did win, didn't he? He couldn't believe he won!

For the first time in his life he didn't feel satisfaction that came from the competition itself being great, no, true satisfaction came when you accepted to go with him! That's the golden prize he never thought he deserved, yet feels so rewarding.

Don't worry dearest, he'll take care of everything that you need while you two are there, you'll be treated like the perfect little princess/prince you are, like the perfect doll.

Now he just needs to be sure on what to bring, this is probably the most excited he has been since he was a child!

🍋Delinquents🐍

→Janette Sartorius:

Janette isn't one for entering in these competitions just because, there needs to be a good reason for it, like helping them raise a good funding for some sort of charity, or ya know, impressing that one really cute person in your class. Yeah, really important-

Look, she has a lot of clown energy, she knows it, but being publicly humiliated is absolutely not her thing! And that means being either the loser or the winner, she doesn't know exactly what to say when she is put into such position-

Still, if it means giving you something nice, then sure! She'll take whatever she can, although she was focusing on gaining something like second/third place so she can get something small like a plushie or a basket of chocolate, anything that would be small yet really charming- Just like you!

When the judges announced her as the winner in first place, she couldn't believe it! No- Seriously, she couldn't believe it!! She tried to make sure her presentation would be nice but mild enough to not be considered a winner!! What the hell???

Even if the universe seemed to have betrayed her by making her be the one in front of so many people as she claimed her prize, she was once again blessed with luck, as her prize was something truly worth looking like a fool in front of so many strangers-

Of course she'll take you first! Why not?? It's not that weird, it's just pals being pals and inviting each other to cool trips, ya know?? Surely she isn't screaming inside at how cliche this all seems.

Look at her, NOT thinking about the huge amount of fanfiction she had ever read where there was only one bed! NOT her reconsidering not going because she can't handle the thought of there only one bed. She is totally fine, ya know? NOT thinking you'll hate her when you learn how much of a weeb she is-

She'll make sure that you have fun with her, but you'll probably catch her trying way too hard to impress you very soon- Please, talk with babe- In her brain there is only one neuron, and it's constantly banging its head in the walls of her brain screaming your name.

→Jackson Macnee:

Jack isn't really interested in these competitions, it isn't his thing, he wouldn't waste time on it unless there was something really, really important at hand.

And it seemed like today was the day to do anything that he could to not only enter such stupid competition, but to win it at all costs. It was when he recognized those familiar faces next to yours that he decided to enter it, but it was when he noticed all of the contestants, who were presumably strangers to one another, get somewhat riddled up about your presence.

Yeah sure, you're cute, you're pretty and yes you're perfect, but seeing half of the contestants being so… Clingy over you it's absolutely ridiculous-

What? You know all of them?? Or are you going to tell him that some of these imbeciles got this lovestruck immediately just by taking one glimpse at you? You would sound absolutely insane to him if you have chosen to tell him none of them, absolutely none of them are interested in you in any way- Especially those dumbass bourgeois blondies.

Jesus fuck, what type of luck is that? Having all these morons be so interested in impressing you by winning a prize for you? Sounds dumb to him, but still, if winning it's what takes to make these fools stop daydreaming about you then so be it. It's not that he really wants to impress you by giving the prize he won, he just wants to see the twins cry after noticing the cruel reality that they don't have you- Or that they can't get everything that they want, that could work too-

Jack is sure to seem calm and unbothered throughout the entire event, trying to sound happy that he won, and trying even harder to not make the laugh in the face of the rest of the competitors. But honestly, he wasn't expecting the prize to be so…. convenient? Really? A place where he can take you to be all alone with him while enjoying such a joyful season?? Yes, he'll gladly take it and make sure to shove in everyone's faces, not literally, but clear enough for everyone to get the message.

Although he is happy for his win, he doesn't really know what to do from there- The fact was starting to settle in when he rethought over and over again about the trip. Somewhere all alone with you, sounds really, well, like a dream, like a fantasy, unrealistic.

Jack will do what he does best, fake that he is calm while hiding the fact he is panicking at the thought of being this close to you. Again, he doesn't want you to know how much he wished for this. Whenever he acts like he doesn't care at all, he at least hopes you know you do mean a lot to him.

🍈A.I (non-binary/gender neutral)👾

→Yuma Soma:

Yuma was focused on winning the moment they entered the competition, however they didn't know what the prize would be until they actually won it. They were more interested in the competition aspect of this event than what they would gain with it, yet when hearing what the prize would be they were, well, confused-

What is so special about this whole "free vacation"? A cabin in the middle of the woods with nothing but snow? Pff- As if snow is even that cool for them to want to see it! Yeah, they know what snow is….. 100%...... yeaaaaaah.

Okay fine, they don't really know what it is. I mean- Sure they know the definition of it, and they have seen a bit of it in their game, although they bet that what they have seen isn't half like the real deal.

It may seem silly, but maybe this trip could be a great opportunity for them to be able to see it and feel it for the first time with you by their side. With you trapped inside the game or not.

Don't be so mean boo, they promise they'll behave this time! The biggest gift you can give them it's the wonderful time you two will share, then again, it's not like you can really do anything against it, right?

🍬Kitsune🦊

→Tatsumi:

To be honest, Tatsumi isn't one for entering these types of competitions unless the price is truly worth it. Money would be the first thing in his list of priorities, yet the idea of going into vacation on the holidays doesn't sound half as bad, ya know?

While walking around the city plaza with you, you two noticed the event happening and decided to take a look.

He wanted to try it out because it sounded fun, yet to actually win?? This feels amazing yet somewhat inappropriate to him, he didn't really consider the possibility of winning, that it almost feels like he would be taking something that he doesn't deserve.

And as he struggles to come out with any excuse as to why he can't take the prize, even though he could take it and give it to any of his friends, you decided to intervene and take the prize for him.

You already knew how Tatsumi felt about himself, you didn't know exactly what led to it but you did know about his constant breakdowns whenever he thought no one was looking. He did tell you about some of his issues but whenever he could he would fake it as being something dumb that you shouldn't worry about, but come on- You already know that is bullshit.

Tatsumi would feel better knowing you're coming with him, but he would still feel awkward knowing it's just the two of you, and it's not like he won't receive thousands of messages from all of his friends calling him out for not inviting any of them. It's not like they had anything against you, they just really liked messing with him over his massive crush over a you-

He may be a little sneaky perv bastard, but come on now- You know he will treat you right while you two are there, honestly he just wants to enjoy some change of scenery with his favorite person.

🍰CEO📏

→Ingrid Bright:

First things first, Ingrid is a serious woman owner of the biggest business empire in the country- Do you really think she has time for things like that? Cause either way, even if she lost, she could have- Built a winter resort just for herself if she wanted to go there so badly.

But who knows, maybe she found something charming about winning the competition and sharing the prize with you, it's… A bit more charming than her just bringing you to a place she paid for. Something about the novelty of winning something for you sounds really appealing, maybe even worth the trial and error, and again she doesn't really need it, so there isn't any harm in trying.

Although let's be honest, there is a slight possibility that the game was rigged to her favour considering her own status against the various competitors. What? It's not like she is aware of it, if anything she is just as clueless as every other person competing.

She probably does need some rest from the same boring office that she has to work in everyday, and bringing you with her may be the best part of it all! What do you say? Want to get some rest far away from the company?

Well, maybe not completely far away, considering she is your boss… But, maybe if Ms. Bright gets to relax for a while, she'll eventually soften up. You won't be in an awkward trip with your boss anymore, you'll be on a surprisingly nice vacation with a person you knew for a while but only got to truly know recently. She really hopes you don't see her as just your boss...

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[joshstambourine]

Guitarfingers’ Ship Ask

Hello hello @guitarfingers , my sweet non-binary darling! I’m sorry this took me so long to get to! I really hope you like it! 

For your friend-ship...

I think Josh and you would make pretty good friends...

✨ CRACK HEADS ✨

Crack head friends are the best kind of friends tbh

I can only imagine all the dumb shit you’d get up to.

NOT TO MENTION ALL THE DUMB SHIT WHILE YOU’RE BAKED

“...(Y/N)... I have to ask you something?”

Josh would look at you serious faced, “...If a bear opened a restaurant... would be be called Bear Essentials or The Goldilocks Buffet?”

“...OR WHAT ABOUT BOTH?! And they only serve honey and bear claws!” *high fives all around, though you both wish this was a real thing*

I feel like despite you being a bit more of an introvert, Josh would have found a way to get you out of your shell and laughing rather quickly.

A super power of his I think.

The ability to fill open air until everyone is laughing.

I really in my heart of hearts think Josh is a cat person --- 

and to be frank probably all of your cats would take to him.

All four of them just surrounding him any time he stops by.

“I just don’t get it--- all of you little hellions act like I carry catnip on me or something.”

He Just Might

Calls them hellions while rubbing cheek to cheek with them

He also exudes the “will call cats little bastards when they won’t love him” energy.

Texts only filled with cat memes and cute cat vids.

Walks with Josh... I feel like they are both super inciteful and you’d probably learn lots but... he’d probably follow up every smart thing he teaches you with something silly.

“Did you know that tulips at one time were more valuable than gold? Really, I’m serious! During the 1600′s they were worth more than gold and so that time period became called Tulip Mania--- which I find kinda shocking just knowing how many flower beds filled with them I’ve utterly destroyed after a bender.”

I picture so much sitting on the couch just staring at the ceiling while you listen to your records, it seems like nothing but that’s probably Josh’s favourite time spent with you.

When he notices that his brother has a crush on you... or is outright told that he does---- Josh would probably tell you immediately since he has no chill, he’s gotta gab.

“Sooooo Sam is totally into you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

“Uhhhhhhh.... are you allowed to be telling me that?”

“He didn’t say I couldn’t so it’s his fault if he didn’t want me to. He knows nothing is secret between us.”

“That’s... yeah I guess he really should have known better.”

“IT WAS IMPLIED JOSH. IT WAS IMPLIED.”

All in all... yall be wild cat and music lovers together~~

For your romantic ship...

I gave it a lot of thought and I ship you with Sam

Babe.

I already made this joke.

But I'll be damned if I don't make it again--

✨ CRACK HEADS ✨

I feel like the two of you would be such a freaking fun couple!

Loud music always going in the house

Random dancing together whenever the mood spurs you both

Hear me out----

SAM DANCING WITH A CAT IN HIS ARMS. BABE I CAN’T.

Though lets be real that cat is probably just batting at his hair the whole time.

“What are you doing to that cat....?”

“Don’t be mad.... I made him a hat.”

*insert grumpy cat*

Cozy times while he just diddles with your guitars and asks to jam out constantly.

“Wheeeew what a sexy sounding set of chords!! I’ll never be able to get over how good you are with a guitar~”

Hopefully you didn’t like going on walks on your own because you wont be walking on your own anymore. Sam would love walking with you so much!

Honestly he wouldn’t care if you still kept your headset on he just would enjoy the time spent with both you and nature

and also he really wants to keep you safe

He’d just swing your conjoined hands back and forth with a super warm smile with his sunglasses on.

If you asked him what he was thinking about during these quiet blissful times, you’d probably get an amusing answer

*head empty*

I genuinely love the idea of the two of you getting ready for to go out or something and him just tapping you on the shoulder,

“Allow me~”

And finishes doing up the rest of the buttons on your shirt with the biggest grin, and then proceeds to give you the softest forehead kiss!

NOT HIM BUYING YOU MORE FUN BUTTON UPS AND GIVING YOU SOME OF HIS.

Now to be real.

I feel like he at first would have been nervous to ask you out or get closer to you in a friend sense --- not just in the obvious sense.

Seeing as you’re a non-binary person, I’m sure you get a lot of... less than great things said you or just uneducated things. He just wouldn’t want to add to them.

Sam would really want to educate himself on the topic and chat with Josh about it to see how the best way to broach it would be.

Which as we all know led to Josh just telling you anyways buuuuuut---

Sam would love you for you. All of you. The person he can get stoned with.

And the person he can listen to records with while being wrapped in blankets at 3 am~

//Thaaaats all my dear! Hopefully you like it! This is the first thing I’ve worked on since my hiatus so hopefully it doesn’t show how damn rusty I am. Anyways! I will be continuing to try and empty my ask box this week and get on to bigger and better things.//

[lumilasi]

Had this one nearly finished yesterday; Vincent’s daughter. Also, when my friend first saw her WIP version, she thought it was her lmao. I think it was the darker brown hair, I changed it to more light brown ultimately as I felt it fit better. I originally wanted to name her “Hanabi Hotaru” but then noted this name combo was kinda overdone it seems, so I changed her surname to Hikari. It makes more sense too, given her mum’s power.

Bio below:

Name: Hanabi Hikari-McCormac (unlike her mum who is mainly referred to by her original surname despite marrying Vincent due to witch traditions, Hanabi identifies with both surnames)

Nicknames: Hana-chan (her parents) Sparks (Kaspian and Sebastian)

Age: 17

Height: 156 cm

A young witch-in-training with love for fiery and explosive spells

Role: close friend of Milo and Silas, especially Milo as they’re both kind of chaotic gremlins

Family: Father Vincent, Mother Haname, honorary big brothers Kaspian and Sebastian, family friend and guardian Ayame, Family cat/mother’s familiar Quinn

Love interest: None 

Friends: Milo and Silas, Quinn, later Raitei as well

Rival: None

Powers:

Hanabi is excellent with fire spells, explosive magic and everything along those lines

she’s pretty strong despite her short stature, and knock out people twice her size with a well placed swing of a pan or a tree branch. When worked up, her strength tends to boost and she can even pick up a large log to swing at people, or tear a tree off its roots.

Some basic healing spells her mom taught her, though she’s not the best at it.

She can track other people’s soul traces, another ability her mum taught her.

She can summon small fire-based creatures like fairies to do her bidding, although usually she has to negotiate with them to do so (typically its a pretty comedic event to onlookers)

She can actually use her dad’s magic firearms really well and generally has a good aim with such weaponry.

Weaknesses:

She’s very impulsive and impatient, meaning she often doesn’t think before acting, resulting in a lot of accidental explosions and destruction. Since her magic is primarily fire-based, she tends to be weaker against water elementals.

She’s very aware of the fact her dad is just an average human, and even kind of an older father than most (he settled down relatively late) so she’s extra worried over his health, freaking out even if he just has a small cold. This isn’t always just her comedically wrapping him up in dozens of blankets after a sneeze, but also endangering herself needlessly when trying to protect him.

Personality:

Hanabi is very outgoing and cheerful young girl, who loves to test out new spells for fun, regardless of if she understands it well enough yet. Despite being bit of a chaotic troublemaker, she generally means well and is very sensitive to other people’s feelings and comfort most of the time. For example, she makes sure not to test out her fire spells near their snow woman friend, knowing Ayame could get sick or hurt by them due to her sensitivity to heat.

She’s very determined and stubborn, meaning it is difficult to make her back down when she wants to do something. She also has a bit of a temper, where she can end up arguing with people over really silly things. Despite that she does always apologize for it once she realizes she was wrong about something - eventually. It can take her some time due to her pride.

BG story:

Hanabi was born to her witch mother Haname and a foreigner Demon Hunter Vincent, living most of her childhood in a house within a forest near a mountain range. There are villages nearby that sometimes come to her mother for healing or other protection spells, though most of their time was spent helping Vincent with his work, (before he retired fully when Hanabi was around 10, up until Shou Morikawa showed up in need for mentoring) and her practicing her own magic, which seemed to naturally lean more towards fiery spells specifically, rather than just light magic like with her mother. 

Hanabi became friends with the two telepath siblings pretty quickly after meeting them, getting into all sorts of shenanigans with the older sibling, Milo. She finds both brothers cool, though.

Fun facts:

Her Japanese name translates to “fireworks light”

Hanabi has inherited her dad’s eye-color, but her mum’s lighter brown hair color and having freckles.

She considers Akiko, the big sister figure of Milo and Silas, her freckle buddy as they both have those.

because Hanabi is pretty short, people often mistake her as younger than she actually is, which does annoy her somewhat. The only person she doesn’t mind teasing her about her height is her dad, because she can fire back at him with old man jokes (all done in lighthearted jest of course)

She tends to refer to make-up as “war paint” for some reason. She mainly wears warm colors that match her flame aesthetic. 

While they consider themselves witches, because they both naturally have longer lifespan than humans and were born with magic in their blood rather than channeling it like priestesses do, her mum and Hanabi are considered as priestess/priestess in-training by most, given her mum’s light magic and kind nature. (that’s the main difference between a witch and a priestess in this world, despite them often appearing similar; witches have internal magic and live longer, priestesses are just humans who learn to channel the magic and spirit energy of the world. Former are often seen as morally dubious and not necessarily trustworthy, latter are of course trusted and respected by default)

[wevegottogetaway]

A hundred percent (Part 2 of Crashing into you)

It looks like the same bottle you had reached for before all hell broke loose. You found it lazing on shore, in that space between water and dry land where objects greet the wet sand but still submit to the waves. Along with the plastic container, you’d encountered a wet blanket you’d immediately laid out to dry, a corkscrew and the ice bucket that had accommodated the champagne you turned down during the flight (you’d gladly have a glass or four now, but alas the Champagne bottle wasn’t accounted for in your scavenger hunt). All things considered, it’s a relatively good inventory; it seems the currents were in your favor.

It makes sense actually, that the waters would shepherd the lightest of items to you. Yet your heart remains heavy with doubts and fears. You’re not versed enough in geography to have the slightest clue as to whereabout you’ve strayed in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. And with that comes the big question: if you don’t know where you are, how the people meant to save you will? Then how much time will it take for them to figure it out and will you be able to hold on for that long?

Everything is a big question mark as of now, and you hate it. You’re resourceful and quick on your feet, but you like to be prepared; you usually study the situation ahead and plan in accordance for every potential contingency, positive or negative. This however, never in a billion years would you have thought, much less prepared for the appropriate M.O. to follow in response to a freaking plane crash.

If anything, it makes you twice as grateful to have Harry by your side. Once for obvious reasons; the mere thought of associating his name with death in the same sentence could make you physically ill. But also, if there were one person that could make this ordeal that much bearable and give you the strength to withstand the pain for that much longer, it was him. He’d done it before; granted times weren’t as critical as they may be now, but he’d always been your beacon of light in the darkest of times. You’d just have to be his as well this time. Like a planet reflecting back the light of the star it revolves around.

Speaking of stars, the sun is unbearably warm. It feels like it is sitting right on top of your shoulders and breathing down your neck, as opposed to hundred millions kilometers away from your sweltering form. You’ve been pacing up and down the shore for over two hours, and you don’t think you’ve ever been so uncomfortably hot. Your skull is throbbing from the heat,(though the brutal impact of the crash and your brief encounter with death probably have something to do with it as well) and your top is positively drenched in sweat. Harry’s shirt didn’t fare much better and is now rolled and folded atop is head in a makeshift hat. You’re both very aware that a sunstroke is highly likely in this sort of climate, and very much the last thing you need in your preexisting predicament.

"Think we should head towards the forest before this heat grills our skin to the crisp, love." It’s the first thing either of you have uttered in a while, but you’re quick to agree to Harry’s proposition.

"You’re right. Let’s see if we can find a water source nearby," you nod towards the stretch of green wildness awaiting you, before shooting one last glance at the ocean behind you.

Harry is closely watching you before putting a hand at the small of your back to usher you both out of the beach. "We can always come back later and see if there’s anything new on the shore," he guesses the reason for your hesitation. You swear this man can read your mind sometimes.

As soon as you cross the border into the forest, the sound of the waves quickly fades to be replaced by the chirps, squeaks and buzzing of the jungle’s inhabitants. It sounds like the all jungle community is in conversation, and you gulp as you wonder what kind of animals are also roaming this place. It’s clear the smartest option is for you to set up camp closer to the beach so you can be safe both from the wildlife and the unforgiving sun, as well as be in plain sight in case rescue is scouring the vicinity. For now though, you have no choice but to wander the very much alive woods if you count on fending dehydration off.

As you weave through the thick and luxurious foliage, Harry is staying glued to your side, not willing to let is sight off of you. His shirt finds its way back over his torso to protect his smooth skin from the somewhat hostile vegetation. From the way nature seems to prevail over every inch of this seemingly impenetrable space, it is clear this land has never witnessed the wrath of human activity. The realization is rather unsettling as it weakens your hopes of finding civilization in this godforsaken place.

Once again, you feel indefinitely grateful for the man walking by your side. You’d always felt lucky to have him in your life, but that soft tug in your chest from his hand grazing your shoulder blades as your tread the muddy earth, has never been so strong and comforting than in this moment.

"Careful, love," he is quick to tug you against his broad frame when you’re about to step on a small snake. The creature hisses as your footsteps disturb its tranquil existence but apart from shooting what you could swear is an annoyed glare, the serpent remains put and lets you go on your merry way.

It takes a second for your heart to calm down from the sudden movement and you realize your fist is still clenching the soft cotton of his shirt. You mutter a small but genuine ‘thanks’ as you quickly remove your hands from him, and despite the tropical heat you find yourselves in, Harry can’t help but feel a coldness on the spot your hand just abandoned.

An hour goes by and you’ve yet to be successful in your quest. The sun is finally starting to relent some of its intensity and the air feels slightly easier to breathe. At least in theory. In practice, every minute that ticks by without you encountering even the smallest of water source, feels like a new brick dropping in-between your ribcage to crush your lungs. You are running out of time for the day and the anxiety that comes with that realization is not one you can gulp down and just ignore.

As the sun slowly retires, so does the light of your surroundings, and it’s enough to have your own light start flickering before finally shutting down. You need to make your way back to the edge of the shore and set up camp before darkness engulfs everything in its black coat. Your hand find Harry’s before you shift your body towards his. "We should head back before it’s too dark," you utter dejectedly.

He nods with the same despondent expression before wrapping an arm across your shoulders and directing you both towards the beach. "Come on, then," a small kiss is pressed against your temple and your heart leaps back out of its gloom for a moment. You’re not a total stranger to gestures like this one, but they’re usually spurred by a drink too many or they occur for these special occasions where joy is so exuberant it pigments your cheeks and leaves you no choice but to show your affection in a more physical manner. You relish those moments as much as you can, wrongly assuming they mean more to you than they do him.

You don’t day anything back as you wrap your arm around his waist and start making your walking again. You’re both in need of comfort right now, is how you rationalize it. Still, it doesn’t stop you from staying as close to him as humanly possible, your body molding his curves better than a puzzle. He doesn’t seem to mind, on the contrary, his grip on your arm tightens briefly, and though you don’t see it, his lips also twitch in a side smile.

You arrive just in time for what must be the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever witnessed in your life. The ocean has calmed some, waves now gently licking at the sand and in the far distance, a large sphere of tangerine flares, rests upon a blue canvas whose only bounds stretch to the horizon. "S’beautiful," Harry softly comments before your eyes meet for a minute. You answer with a small smile, admiring the tenderness of his gaze. It’s partly due to tiredness at this point, which is what you surmise, but you’ve been on the receiving end of this gaze countless and non-tired times before, unbeknownst to you.

Fifteen minutes later, you are trying your best to light a dry piece of wood on fire while Harry endeavors to built some kind of shelter. It takes you both a few attempts and a lot of cussing, but eventually you find yourselves sitting under a makeshift branch-made roof in front of a small fire. Thankfully, the blanket you’d recovered from the crash had dried entirely - one of the few perks of the scalding sun, you suppose - and is now wrapped tightly around you both. If the situation wasn’t so critical, you’d rejoice at the opportunity of being cuddled up with Harry so closely. Every intake of breath he takes you feel against your ribs. Your bones ache from tiredness, thirst and hunger, but as your head lays on Harry’s shoulder, you also feel lightness in your heart. Things will be all right. Tomorrow you’ll go back to explore the jungle and you’ll find water, maybe even catch a fish or two and you’ll repeat the process until the rescue team comes to get you. Soon.

"How’s your leg?" Harry gently breaks the silence. You’d almost forgotten about your respective injuries, and the question has your eyes shift to the cut on your shin. There wasn’t much to do anyway, your fateful time in the angry waters had taken care of all the cleaning that could be done without proper medicine. It’s uncomfortable and the sort of wound that would linger on your mind if you were back home, but there and then, you’d minded the sting for all of 5 minutes before more pressing matters needed your undivided attention.

"It’s fine. I was too distracted to notice the pain, I guess," you answer just as quietly even though you are the only two souls breathing for hundred miles around if not more. The mention of your injury also reminds you of his, though you don’t quite need as vocal a reminder as the gash above his eyebrow is much more conspicuous. "How’s your face?" you decide to return the question even though you have a feeling his answer won’t me much different from yours.

"Itchy but it doesn’t hurt."

Your eyes once again focus on the cut, making sure that no dirt made its way on the damaged tissue. Your lips curls slightly to the side when you take in the probable reason for the itch. "C’mere, your hair keeps falling into it," you say while your hand reaches up to tuck the rebellious curl behind his ear. The strand goes straight back to its previous spot as it lacks a bit of length to obey your ministration. You reach up again, this time running your fingers towards the back of his head to get the curl out of the way. Harry doesn’t dare move an inch, air caught up in his throat as he revels in your tender touch. You’re oblivious to his intense stare, as always, while you inspect the cut. "Shouldn’t leave a scar, I don’t think," you offer in reassurance.

"Well, that’s a relief," Harry answers almost absentmindedly though there’s humor lacing through his voice. He couldn’t care less about a scar, not after everything you’ve been through. Hell, you’re both lucky to have escape the crash with just superficial wounds. Besides, he’ll take a thousand scars over having your unconscious body under his palms again.

The conversation feels much lighter than the ones you’ve entertained all day, so you keep the playful tone going. "I know right, can’t have permanent damage on that Grammy winning face," you quip back with a smirk. Mischief is distinct in your eyes and Harry has never been more thankful to see that sparkle lit up your iris. If he focus hard enough, the sand beneath him can disappear to morph into the fluffy cushions of his sofa back home, and this can just be a regular hang-out where you pretend to watch movies and banter over every character’s decisions.

That’s why it’s so easy for him to indulge in the oh-so familiar back and forth; it’s a dance he could do eyes closed. "My career would be over," he retorts with a faux distraught expression.

You giggle and give him a smile before copying is fake air, "the end of the world."

He chuckles and for a moment there is nothing but silence between you two. You can feel the playfulness dissipate as Harry’s eyes don’t waver from yours. They suddenly hold a fervor that tells you he’s gonna say something serious. And of course he does, you know him so well. "I think my world would have ended today if you hadn’t woken back up on that beach." The statement is uttered barely above a whisper but it echoes like a hundred church bells chiming Cinderella’s midnight in your head.

"Harry…" Needless to say, you are speechless. Neither of you have ever shied away from voicing your affection towards the other, but this, coupled with the intensity of his stare, has your heart stopping for the second time today.

"You have no idea how terrified I was," he continues quietly, like his own heart is threatening to jump out of his throat if he dares speak louder. It’s obvious it’s painful for him to remember, perhaps even more painful than it was for you to actually endure. "The longer you wouldn’t-"

"Shh, stop, stop," you quickly halt him with a hand to his cheek. "Don’t torture yourself with the could haves. I’m here, alive and breathing. All thanks to you. And you are too. Alive and breathing." You say it all in confidence though you have the same chocked up feeling he did when you think of the alternatives. "That’s all that matters right now. You have me and I have you and nobody’s losing anyone." Your thumb is drawing soothing circles onto his skin as he nods at your statements as if to make their truths stronger. A second passes and your eyes shift to the ground before you gulp, "my world would have ended too. Had you not made it to the beach."

It seems the sentiment strikes a chord in his chest too, as Harry pinches his eyes close as if to make sure he is not hallucinating your words. His body is taken by a strong pull to kiss you but he knows his lips can’t quite fall on their most desired destination. He settles for a harsh forehead kiss instead, taking your head between his two shaking hands.

When he leans back, his eyes frantically search your face and you can see his breathing picking up from the motion of his chest. "Y/n, I…Fuck it’s…" the more the words escape him, the more frustrated he becomes, running a hand through his wild curls even though they’d stayed in the place you had brushed them last.

"Shh it’s okay. Harry, you’re working yourself up," you try to calm him down with a hand on his heart. Just as you suspected, the organ beneath your palm is jackhammering against his skin, but Harry shakes his head at your suggestion.

"I just have something that I need to say," he gulps, "and it’s terrifying-"

You can’t stand the way his voice wavers ever so slightly. He looks exhausted despite the wild look in his eyes and you realize that’s probably not helping tame the stormy thoughts in his mind. "M’not going anywhere, Harry," you reassure him, "we can talk tomorr-"

"No. No." He shakes his head forcefully between your hands. "I need to say this now because I already should have done it a long time ago, and as much as it is scary for me to say, today was a hundred times more scary."

You take in his adamant look and realize this is far more serious than you were led to believe. "Okay, you know you can tell me anything."

He nods at your reassurance before taking a deep breath. "You’re my best friend, y/n. The one person I don’t ever want out of my life, the one person that understands all of me and that is besides me for everything." You try to remain impassive and not wince at the f-word as you listen to his sorrows. "And I can only hope that will never change, because like I said, my world wouldn’t be the same if I had you any less in it. And that’s the thing that is scaring me, because as much as I need you as my best friend, I’m also in love with you and that has the power to change everything." He barely pauses before carrying on, still locking eyes with you. "I used to be able to pretend, but earlier on that beach, when your life was hanging by a thread in my hands, all I thought was that I couldn’t ever look at myself again if you left and I was too much of a coward to tell you the truth. I don’t want to be that guy anymore, because now I know. Being that guy is more terrifying than telling you I love you."

The words are buzzing in your mind. Ones you’ve heard before in daydreamings and fantasies but that you never thought you would get to receive in the realm of reality. At least not from the person you wanted them from. "Harry," is all you can muster to say without tripping over the rest of your words. You realize your vision is getting blurrier by the second, and you could swear there were droplets pearling at the corner of his eyes too. You let out a nervous chuckle, quickly wiping a tear from your cheek with the back of your hand. "Fuck, you dumbass, making us cry when we’re already fighting dehydration." The exclamation has him mirroring your smile as his thumb replaces yours at the crease of your eye. "I love you too, Harry," you say shakily through your grin. "So much it is the scariest thing to feel for a best friend. But you’re right, today was much scarier and I don’t want to be that girl anymore either."

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been this happy and he makes a note to call his Mum as soon as his back on civilized land, to tell her she was right. Love does work in mysterious ways; sometimes you need to be the most lost to finally find it. And part of him hates that he wasted so much time with you everyday he wouldn’t say anything, but the other part of him also feels like it was worth the wait. "Fuck, promise? You’re not concussed from the crash and you really l-"

"I love you, Harry," you don’t let him finish vocalizing any doubt about your feelings. "Hundred percent sure."

"A hundred percent?"

"A hundred percent." He loves how confident you are when you reiterate the affirmation, looking straight in his eyes. Your faces a barely inches apart and your bodies still tightly embraced in the flimsy plane blanket.

"Christ, this is the best day of my life," he marvels before kissing the wrist of your hand still cupping his face.

You raise a brow at the statement, "the day you were in an air crash and found yourself stranded on a desolate island is the best day of your life?" You tease him in humor though you know exactly what he means by it and share the sentiment equally as strongly.

"The day I made you mine," he proudly explains with a smirk.

"Mmm am I?" you tauntingly bite your lip, though you’re not fooling anyone. You are absolutely and irrevocably, a hundred percent his. Knowing this perfectly well himself, Harry doesn’t even give you the curtesy of an answer and kisses the sass right off your mouth. It’s a fierce contact at first, as though he was kindly telling you to just shut up. Then he eases into a slow and emotional kiss, as your lips wrap around each others. He doesn’t pull back until you’re both out of breath and he’s had a proper taste from licking your supple lips. When he does, you only want to dive in for more, and it seems he shares the same desire as he barely retracts from your face.

"You most definitely are," he asserts with that same teasing smirk.

"Hundred percent?"

"A hundred percent, darling," he acquiesces before giving you the second best kiss of your life (the first having occurred a mere minute earlier). This time he drags his hand away from your face to wrap his arm around your small frame. "C’mere, come closer so we don’t freeze." It feels like close enough will never be an achievable concept for you both, but you’ll content yourself with the weight of his limbs intertwining with yours as you lay down besides the small fire. He brings the blanket high enough beneath you so you don’t have your heads directly on the sand, and you don’t realize how physically exhausted you were until your head is tucked underneath his chin and all your muscles loosen up some.

"Comfy?" He inquires as he hears you sigh in relief. You nod against his collarbones a small ‘yeah’ whispered against his skin and the feeling has him shoot a smile to the stars. He’s quite comfortable himself if he may say so.

"Good, now gimme a kiss."

"Making demands already?" You keep teasing him because let’s face it, you’ll never get tired of watching his reactions to your taunts. The cute crease between his brows, the twitching of his button nose or even better, the small pout enhancing the cherry color of his lips are probably the things that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

"You’re not complaining."

You laugh at his self-assuredness, sad not to see his precious pout though the newfound spark in his eyes makes up for it and then some. You can’t help but to confirm the bold statement, "yeah, a hundred percent not," and he smiles at the now familiar words, like it has become an inside joke that only belongs to the two of you.

For a while you just cuddle in silence, reveling in the embrace you’ve shared a couple times in the past but that now beholds an entire new meaning. You’re just about to surrender to Morpheus’ arms when Harry muses aloud, "imagine this was all a dream and we just wake up in LA tomorrow morning."

Paradoxically, the suggestion forms lump in your throat. Had he asked an hour ago, you would have let a wistful sigh and longed for a reality where you didn’t hop on a doomed plane and landed both yourself and you best friend in what can only be the hardest trial of your life. And yet, now you find yourself unsettled at the idea that your very much reciprocated feelings wouldn’t be out in the open if none of this had happened. You wouldn’t know the taste of his lips had you not plummeted in the sea only to wash up on a desolate shore.

"It doesn’t matter. I’ll still tell you." You affirm confidently. Now that you know; not about the mutuality of your feelings, but about how scary it is to find yourself on the precipice of forever regrets, you’ll take the chance every time. Wiser from the same tribulations, Harry just smiles softly before returning a faint ‘me too’.  

"Yeah?"

"Not that guy anymore, ‘member?" He is quick to remind you, eyebrow cocked upwards, to which you simply respond with a whispered ‘good’ against his chest. Harry kisses you on last time and then you both let your unconscious take over at last, still wrapped in each others’ arms and not even caring about your perilous surroundings anymore.

[samwrights]

I’m sorry but ukai with a breeding kink😳yes PLEASE

I swear I saw another ask that asked for Ukai with an impreg kink

*ahem* anyways—WOW this one was a doozy but holy shit did I have fun writing it. 11k words you guys. 11. K. It is a lot so grab some cocoa or coffee and a blanket because this is a read. It even has to be split into two parts because I hit the fucking text limit, BUT this also means there is no actual smut in this portion. You can find that here.

If you guys need some ear candy, I recommend the following:

Day N Nite (Crooker’s Remix) by Kid Cudi

Pursuit of Happiness (Extended version with Steve Aoki) by Kid Cudi

Breaking Me by Topic

C’Mon by Ke$ha

Flannel by The Cardboard Swords (it has to be sad somewhere)

Magic in the Hamptons by Social House

Fun fact: Ke$ha was actually the primary inspiration for this fic and for DJ!Ukai. God bless her.

Warnings: language, nicotine and alcohol consumption, implied drug use, implied emotionally abusive relationship, breeding/impreg kink, dirty talk, rough sex, risky sex, road head, slight dub-con, praise, multiple smut scenes, 3rd person POV reader-insert—because the word ‘you’ just didn’t seem to fit.

Without further ado, please enjoy the filthy depths of my brain followed by a relatively happy ending that I’ve titled, “Between the Lines’” :-)

“You’ve been more tired lately, and you’re showing up right when practice starts. Is everything okay?” Was the question that Takeda had asked Ukai Keishin that haunted him for years to come. Sure, he had wanted to gain more independence from his parents, wanted to start being more adult-like and take over the mortgage and the bills so his parents could finally rest. At the age of twenty-six, it seemed like a good idea at the time. With four years passing, however, Keishin was so damn tired, but it wasn’t like he could just stop working.

He was still tending to crops every morning, tending to the shop, coaching for Karasuno, but in the four years time, he had adopted one more job on the weekends—Ukai Keishin was a local nightclub DJ. He’d discovered the job opportunity one fateful night that he was out with his friends from the neighborhood association. To this day, he was still unsure of why he was approached with the job, especially considering he didn’t know the first thing about being a DJ, but the woman who had offered him the position had taught him everything he needed to know.

It turned out that he had a natural affinity for the position, seeing as he was still at it years later under the alias Spira. Ukai kept telling himself that he would quit the gig eventually because there was no way he could continue working four jobs—it was inhuman and the money didn’t even really matter to him. Okay, that last one is a lie; his DJ gig has been a substantial contributor to his savings funds to the point where he was even able to afford a newer, larger, (and slightly) used SUV in full compared to his tiny, old yellow beater. Even his mortgage bills were starting to look less daunting with the current cash flow.

Who needs sleep anyway? Ukai survived and thrived off of nicotine and caffeine anyway. Besides, sleep was the last thing on his mind whenever he set foot into the club. It was impossible to think of anything other than the writhing bodies of sweaty, young adults that were already drunk or high or were practically fucking each other with their clothes on. Perhaps that was part of the reason Keishin felt the need to quit this job—he was envious. Envious of the fact that he never got to indulge in his youth like these kids did; he started working and helping his family out right away after college. Sure, he went out here and there, but these twenty-something-year-olds were living their best life, while he was thirty and catering to their whims.

To say he was a bit bitter would be an understatement.

Bitterness aside, however, it did him good to see the youth enjoying exactly that—their youth. They got to do as they pleased between exams and becoming functioning members of society and, while he was jealous, Ukai was proud to be able to contribute to their pleasure.

He’d arrived to the club early, as he often did, to try to grab a drink before he was due for stage time. Ukai was thankful the bartenders knew him enough that he didn’t have to verbally order considering the music was too loud to hear him in the first place. A rum and coke manifests itself in a small, plastic cup that the blonde raises in thanks before weaving and bobbing around the various partygoers. For the most part, he’s successful in dodging the flailing bodies as he mutely notes the very upbeat remix of some female pop artist playing.

But only remotely successful as Keishin attempts to salvage his drink from spilling as he raises it over his head as one of the partygoers is pushed into him. “Hey, careful!” He snaps toward the younger, [hair color]ed woman. She only looks half-offended by the scolding, but otherwise unperturbed. If anything, the dominating expression on her face was confusion.

“Coach Ukai?” He’s surprised to hear both his given name and his title, let alone coming from a club patron, as they all knew him as Spira. Recognition slips his mind entirely—he’s never met this girl in any way that he can remember. Certainly, he would never forget crossing paths with this beauty, even if she was dressed in a similarly juvenile fashion to the other ravers. Tight crop top tee cinched together by a knot at the midriff, with army green high-waisted shorts attempting to cover the bare skin, face painted with makeup, glitter, and sweat; even underneath the garb, she brought forth no recollection. “Uh, d-do you remember me?” It’s a challenge to hear over the music, but she presses forward close enough that her lips are right in Keishin’s ear.

“Can’t say that I do,” he yells right back into hers.

“Karasuno class of twenty-twelve, I was Sugawara’s girlfriend.” Oh.

Oh.

Now he remembered, vaguely, but he doesn’t ever remember her looking like this. The last four years had been incredibly kind to her, in more ways than one. Back in her Karasuno days, [name] had always looked pleasant, for lack of better term. But there was always a lifeless, matted, dull glaze to her eyes that screamed she was searching for something more. While it was still somewhat present, there was a substantial joyous air around her. It looked good on her. However, as much as Ukai wanted to stay and admire, he had to go get set up for the evening. Or rather, that was the excuse he used when he said he would catch her after the show. “[name], did you know who that was?” The woman in question gives a nod, confused at the sudden star struck gawks that her friends held.

“Uh, yeah? My ex-boyfriend’s volleyball coach?”

“No dude, that was the DJ, Spira.”

“What?”

Being the closing act meant a lot of different things to Ukai Keishin. On the negative spectrum, it meant he was going to have to tend to crops as soon as he finished cleaning up his set. That also meant he wasn’t going to get to go to bed until nearly eight in the morning after his shift at the farm. Yet, for him, the positives greatly outweighed the negatives. For Keishin, watching the audience lose themselves in euphoria, albeit probably a drug-induced one, just hit different for him. It was a sense of satisfaction that only came from a select few activities, with coaching volleyball being the other major contributor. There was just something about the way the crowd was overwhelmed and screaming the second underground remixes of old Kid Cudi tracks with his own twists overtook the speakers that granted Keishin a sense of enlightenment.

For him, being a DJ allowed an audience to flow and vibe with the journey of his life and all its constant up and down motions while under the guise of anonymity. As Spira, Ukai opened up the complexity and conflicting feelings of his inner mind and brought it to fruition through his mixes. He felt that in his soul, he’d done his art of storytelling justice. The audience felt it. Hell, his mom at home probably felt it. Perhaps it was one of the main reasons this dingy, hole-in-the-wall club kept asking him to come back every weekend.

His mind wanders further as he clutches an electronic cigarette in his hand, mixing beats on the turntable while taking hits of nicotine in between. He wonders if the girl he had ran into just a few minutes prior had been frequenting here as often as he had. Then, thinking back to what little information she supplied earlier, Ukai’s mind drifts off to the former third-year setter from when he first started coaching. Sugawara was a nice boy with a firm, almost parental, hand that walked dangerously along the lines of being a partner and being a control freak. When it came to his relationship, things had to go his way. And while his girlfriend that came to every tournament was much more outspoken yet easy going, she was opinionated and didn’t shy from confrontation.

Now that the coach had given it more thought, it was a wonder that one tolerated the other at any point in time. If anything, Ukai imagines the two of them would typically be at each other’s throats. From the few times he had interacted with her, she was always more free spirited and couldn’t be weighed down by any one else’s opinion, but seeing her now was different—she was in her element in the dingy, dark club with the glitter on her cheekbones refracting light off of her face. There was laughter and true, unabashed joy on her face. She had a light of her own—like she was ray of sunshine in the center of a storm.

Three hours past midnight when the club closed was always Keishin’s sign to leave, regardless of the countless attempts to attend the after party he’d been invited to. He had to go to work, after all. Sure, a part of him had always been a little green with envy at all the DJs that got to hook up with club patrons after, but after being at this gig for a few years, he figured that the right girl for him would eventually come to him if he continued working on himself. After all, he didn’t want to just have a string of one night stands with a bunch of fresh adults that could barely function after the small drop of Malibu rum—he was too old for that.

“Uh, coach?” [name] felt strange calling him that, but she didn’t feel familiar enough with him to address him otherwise. He was halfway in his car, the blonde ready to leave for the weekend to go back to his regular day-to-day work. “You coming to the after party?” [name] asks when Keishin only looks at her in question, cigarette hanging betwixt his dry lips.

“No, I actually have to go to work right now.”

“Oh,” she doesn’t mean to express her disappointment, but it slips anyway, “guess I’ll catch you later then?”

“Uh, yeah.” A tight lipped hybrid of a pained grin and grimace crosses her wet, gloss covered lips. Without another word, Ukai closes his car door, a little more brusquely than he intended to, before backing out and leaving the young woman to her own devices. His mind wanders once again with him humming absentmindedly to the soft acoustic punk playing over the car radio. His eyes are focused on the passing greenery, the cars that are weaving and bobbing off the freeway—hell he even noticed the way the tendrils of the sun are just barely starting to peak over the horizon because it reminded him of her. A thought he banishes immediately because he feels creepy for even thinking that.

Yet no matter how much scenery flitted through his honey eyes, his mind keeps traveling back to one thing, or rather one person, only.

Goddammit.

On Monday’s practice, Ukai Keishin’s mind is flooding and drowning in memories of his first year as the volleyball club’s coach. It was as if his mind was coercing him to attempt to reach out to the girl that plagued his mind for the last forty-eight hours or so. Though, he had no way of contacting her. Instead, with every step along the wooden floors, he can remember the way she would walk Suga to practice, almost physically seeing her standing in the doorway to kiss the third-year setter goodbye. As if he could see her sitting underneath the third window from the left, quietly doing homework and exchanging small talk and airy laughter with Kiyoko and Daichi. As if he could see the same sunny smile she gave in the audience from Saturday night at the club between the lines of the woodwork in the floorboards.

It was a repeating pattern day in and day out that was beginning to make Ukai question his sanity.

“Hey, man,” his assistant coach and fellow Karasuno alumni, Tsukishima Akiteru, places a hand on his shoulder and looks at him in worry. “Are you okay? You’ve been out of it all week.” In what world did a week translate into three days, the older blonde coach didn’t know.

“I’m fine, just tired,” Keishin all but bites back. He didn’t want to admit his conscious had been running rampant with thoughts of a girl he’d briefly met at a club. It felt almost as disturbing and perverted as it sounded in his mind.

“The team’s worried about you. Why don’t you take an early weekend and get some rest? We’ll see you back on Monday, yeah?” Normally, Ukai would have vehemently refused. However, his circumstances were far from normal and he was gracious for an assistant coach he trusted wholeheartedly to do the work that needed to be done. And so, Ukai heeded Akiteru’s advice and went home before practice even began on Thursday afternoon.

It was slightly disorienting for him to go home and nap, but he was incredibly thankful for the gift. Waking up just before he was technically supposed to start his shift at the shop, Keishin jumps into a cold shower to bring him to life before heading downstairs. A bellowing yawn passes his lips through his teeth as he starts his evening. Maybe his team was right—he really did need a break. Thankfully, he knew that the second the doors to the Sakanoshita were locked, he was done for the evening and wouldn’t need to reawaken until three the following morning. Just a few more hours until then, he thought.

With it being a slower evening as well, Ukai was able to kick his feet up on the counter as he always did, pull open the newspaper from earlier in the morning and casually flip through. Briefly, he considers giving up one of his four jobs because this was something he missed doing. But consideration aside, he was far too in love with the cash flow and the thought of paying off his mortgage to entertain the thought for long. Maybe one day, he would finally sell the Sakanoshita store or quit helping on the farm—

“You still work here?” Huh. Her voice sounds different when it isn’t drowning under the speakers of a nightclub.

“I do own this place, you know.” Ukai snarks at the woman who’d been consuming his brain for the last week. She looks different without glitter reflecting off of her unreal cheekbones or the heavy layers of foundation and eyeshadow. Even more than before, Keishin definitely recognized [name] now. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Shopping,” she snorts as if it were the most obvious thing, “why else would I be at a store?”

“Dunno, maybe you’re just here to see me.” Ukai responds without skipping a beat, turning the page of the paper to play into his guise that he wasn’t the slightest bit surprised at [name]’s presence.

“Uh...actually...” her voice is quiet, prompting the coach to quirk a brow and fold up the paper he was now pretending to read. It wasn’t like he could focus on anything right now outside of the woman standing before him, spearated only by a thin counter. Without talking again, his brown eyes lock with hers, silently goading for her to continue speaking. “I-I just...I don’t know. It was just really weird to see you at the club and then to find out that you’re Spira on top of that. I haven’t seen anyone from Karasuno since I graduated and—“

“Woah, kid, breathe.” Ukai interrupts her before she can continue spewing word vomit at a hundred miles an hour. “So what if I’m Spira? Though, you better not tell anyone that. My stage name is a secret between us, alright?” For a moment she’s quiet, gears turning in her head. The secrecy didn’t make sense to her because, if anything, he should be proud of the fact that he’s rather well known in the underground electronica scene. Or at least, she was in his stead, because [name] would have been proud of Ukai regardless of whatever occupation he held.

She supposed it came with the territory of having an unrequited crush on the coach years ago, that continued well beyond high school and even university, back when she was still dating Sugawara Koushi. It was the reason she had even bothered to come sit in on his practices and partially the reason she would come to his tournaments and matches. Not that she didn’t want to be supportive of her then-boyfriend—it would have been a fight had she not—but seeing the hot older coach was definitely a bonus in her book. “But why?” She offers, not wanting conversation to end despite her not having actually bought anything.

“If the school ever caught wind of me doing that, I could lose my position as the coach. Some shit about Karasuno’s image or whatever.” [name] gives a small nod, fidgeting subconsciously, as an attempt to shake her nerves and anxiety, by sifting through various candy bars that were in front of her before grabbing her favorite. Without a second thought, she peels the wrapper before placing the candy between her lips, the puffy pink skin greatly contrasting the chocolate coating. “Ya gonna pay for that, kid?” Ukai irks, his honey brown eyes steeling over in irritation. The nickname she’s given hits the final nail on the coffin and seals away [name]’s trepidation. Instead, her own sass comes out to join the fun.

“Nah,” she hums playfully, the chocolate-covered wafer cookie crunching between her teeth. “Quit calling me kid, coach. I’m a lady,” the irony isn’t lost on either of them as she speaks with her mouth full.

“Still a kid, kid. And quit calling me coach, I’m not your damn coach.” The familiar, grumpy attitude of his brings [name] back to the Ukai she knew back in high school. In a mix of nostalgia, warmth washes over her as the haughty tone in his voice sent shivers down her spine like it did a few years back.

“Sure thing, coach,” she teases again before tossing the wrapper of the stolen candy bar into the nearest bin. “You’re at the club tomorrow, right?” The question adds a bit of context and confirmation to Ukai—it seems she knew when Spira was performing, meaning she must have been a patron for a decent amount of time. Part of him wonders how she never realized who he was before, another part wonders how he’s never noticed her considering she could make all traffic stop if she stood in the middle of a freeway. At least, that’s what looking at her did to his heart.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe this time, you’ll join us at the after party.” Without another word, [name] pushes herself away from the counter she’d been leaning on while talking to the blonde man. With Akiteru giving him the weekend off, he actually entertained the thought of attending this time. Even if her invitation was rather blasé and indirect, he didn’t see the opportunity of him attending one presenting itself any time soon. He may be old, by his own standard, but there was a unknown allure to the thought of showing up to a wild party with a woman that was so adamant of his attendance.

Or rather, adamant in his mind. Whether she actually wanted his company remained to be seen, but the curiosity was gnawing at him, and was something he would have to unearth sooner rather than later.

Having an entire night, or a day’s worth, of rest was a rather disorienting, yet pleasant feeling for Ukai. After tending to crops and returning home in the early hours of the morning, the blonde coach was able to catch a solid nine hours of sleep before his shift at the Sakanoshita store with another chance to nap before he needed to head to the club. Despite knowing he had the ability to do so before another restless night, his mind felt the need to keep him awake and alert. Even after showering and styling his blonde tresses into their usual mane—mundane acts that usually came to him automatically—he was hyper aware of the slightest unruly flyaways.

Ukai Keishin was nervous.

He didn’t know what to wear or if there was a dress code or if anything he typically wore would be deemed worthy of an after party. A part of him wanted to leave it alone and let him sport his usual white track pants and tight, maroon muscle tank, but that part of him immediately drowns in the ocean of his anxiety. Another string in his brain prompted him to dress up just a little bit to help him look the part—it had nothing to do with impressing a certain club patron, no—he tried to convince himself. A miserable attempt, but still one nonetheless.

Eventually, he settled on crisp, dark-washed jeans that hugged his muscular legs without being suffocating, paired with a vibrant, crimson muscle tee that hugged his biceps all the same. Ukai still felt a little out of place in the attire, as he often had back when he first assumed the alias Spira, but headed out the door of his apartment before his conscious could dispute it.

He was early again, even more so than normal. Desperate for a drink to calm his nerves and replace his blood with liquid courage, Ukai worms his way around to the bar, signaling the attendant for his usual. Rum and coke in hand, the DJ stands off to the side, hiding like a wallflower, while he studied the sweaty, dancing bodies. Did he know why he was looking for her—no. Maybe partially to tell her she owed him for the candy bar, maybe to tell her he was joining in on the after party this time around.

Maybe to just see her.

Keishin banishes the last thought with a shake of his head before skulking off to the attached patio to smoke. Pulling a cigarette from his pack and a lighter from his pocket, the flame torches the end of the filter at the same time the blonde inhales. Forcefully pushing the smoke out past his lips, Ukai takes a hearty sip of his drink until it’s nearly gone. He was going to need something stronger tonight.

“Is it that time already?” The older man’s head snaps to the voice that had been haunting him subconsciously.

Part of him wishes he didn’t look.

As if to play into her question, [name] checks the large, rose gold watch on her right wrist—an incredibly stark contrast to her outfit for the evening. Maybe it was a hunch when Ukai felt that he had been underdressed, as if his intuition knew that she was going to be dressed to the nines in a black skater dress. Even with a modest neckline, the lace cut out detailing on the sides of the dress accentuated her curves impeccably, playing well with the volume of the skirt, while the open back she was sporting dipped dangerously low.

It took everything in Ukai to not throw every milliliter of restraint and inhibition out the window and fuck her right then and there.

Taking a lengthy drag of his cigarette to hold himself back, Keishin inhales deeply, the smoke billowing past his lips emerging densely and grey in color. “I’m a little early—needed an extra drink today.” The man manages to choke out, downing whatever is left in his little plastic cup for added emphasis.

“Need another?” [name] chirps politely; almost too politely as if to deliberately dispute the salacious thoughts flooding the coaches mind.

“I can get—“

“I owe you anyway,” she reminds him, alluding to the candy bar she had eaten without paying for from the previous night. “Pick your poison.”

“Double rum and coke.” He concedes. [name]’s lips twitch upward slightly at the corner before she plucks the empty cup from Ukai’s hand. He doesn’t miss the way the shellac on her nails grazes against his skin, leaving the whispers of contact to run warm. Immediately, the blonde man uses the nearly dead cigarette between his teeth to light a fresh one—heaven or hell knows he needed the nicotine right now.

Given the silence, Keishin takes the opportunity to absorb his surroundings. From the general direction that [name] initially came from, she wasn’t around any of her friends or really anyone that he knew. That was good at least; there wasn’t anybody else that knew of his presence. [name] returns, two clear plastic cups in her hands and surrenders the darker of the two to the man awaiting. “Hold mine for a sec?” Without thinking, Keishin holds his cigarette between his left index and middle fingers, his drink in the same hand, while taking hers. To his surprise, she pulls out her own pack of menthols and a torch lighter, setting the leaves ablaze before taking her obvious vodka cranberry back.

“You took up smoking?” The older of the two asks in surprise, noting the way her lipstick leaves the slightest bit of residue along the brown filter. [name] gives a shrug.

“Surprised you didn’t notice it sooner, coach. I’ve been smoking since second year.” Ukai gives a roll of his eyes at the use of this strange pet name he’s been dubbed by her. But he thinks about it, thinks about how Suga must have felt probably knowing that she did. Thinks how it just added to this strange, sassy yet happy, wild and free exterior she now had. And [name] notices instantly the very same look Ukai had in his face when he was trying to strategize, trying to figure out a way to navigate a conversation with his team about becoming better—she knows what’s coming next. “Yeah, yeah, I know I should quit or whatever. Suga lost that argument a long time ago.”

“Can’t really tell you what to do when I’m just as guilty.” Ukai gives a laugh—one that is embedded with bitterness and envy at the mention of the third-year setter—yet is just as vivacious as he is. A sound entirely different than she’d ever heard leave his lungs before. She likes it.

After finishing his smoke, Keishin gulps down a hefty swig of his drink before patting [name] on the shoulder before announcing his departure. “I’ll see you inside,” the girl, woman, calls out thoughtfully as she gives a small wave with her cigarette filter between her fingers. Ukai doesn’t verbalize the same sentiment. He doesn’t want to slip up and admit he’ll be looking for her.

But it’s painfully obvious that he is when he takes over the booth. Unable to hide the fact that with every chance that he looks into the audience, he’s searching for that black skater dress that hugs her all too perfectly, [hair color] locks swaying as she moves in the crowd. Ukai can’t hide it at all—not behind the turn table or new remixes meant to get the crowd moving.

He can’t hide the urgency he feels to find her outside in the crisp evening air, smoking on the back patio of the club after his set. [name] is talking and laughing with her friends while thin grey smoke billows from her open mouth before her eyes land on him. Some of her friends take notice to the tension and their shared gazes, some of them whispering his alias in excitement. But [name] just smiles knowingly, if not a little cocky, because she can see that urgency, that desperation, that Ukai was trying to hide. “Wait, [name], do you know Spira?” A bystander asked. Clearly, they weren’t present the last time this was brought up.

“Yeah, I may have met him once or twice,” the woman in question snickers as she strides over closer and closer to the aforementioned DJ.

“Cute,” Ukai sneers teasingly at her jab before instinctively reaching for the half-gone cigarette she pulls to her stained lips. At first, she thought he was going to put it out, considering their little conversation from a few hours ago. Instead, the volleyball coach puts the filter to his own lips, noting the damp fabric probably from her freshly applied lipgloss, and takes a drag. It tasted like watermelons and mint.

“Cheeky,” [name] returns, plucking her cancer stick back from the blonde man. While her friends are still behind her murmuring about the familiarity between the two of them, Keishin and [name] are lost in their own little world. “So since your set is over, and considering you’re still here, I’m assuming you’re joining me for the after party? Or do you have to go to work again?”

“I told them I’d be out of town this weekend,” Ukai tries to play it off as nonchalantly as he could, ties to swallow it down his nerves with rum and nicotine. It proves rather difficult considering the coy smile on [name]’s face is wearing and cracking through his resolve rather quickly. But at least, to him, he could confirm his mind was not playing tricks on him and [name] was just as adamant about his attendance as he initially thought. Even more so with her next statement.

“Cool. Your car or mine?” It took him a minute to process her words even—lust thickening and constricting the flow to his brain at the vague question. Ukai was getting far too ahead of himself, but goddammit how could he focus when the fabric of her skirt hit her mid-thigh and framed her like a Venetian goddess—“I don’t mind driving there.” She adds to coax him away from his silence.

“Nah, I got it. We’ll take mine.”

“Lead the way,” [name] chimes sweetly as she wraps an arm around the coach’s forearm. The physical touch is everything he’s been fantasizing about for the last few days—hellfire and brimstone and sunlight and goddammit why did he wear jeans that were only getting tighter and tighter?

Ukai opens the passenger door to his SUV, supporting the woman as she clambered in cautiously so as not to stumble from her heels. Getting settled in, the coach surrenders his unlocked phone to allow her the entirety of his music library. The irony of the DJ surrendering DJ rights to the passenger was not lost on either of them. Much to his surprise, [name] put on soft acoustic punk as he usually did on his way home from the club. The kind of softness one would turn on to accompany the fragile pitter-patter of rain against the windshield. “Cardboard Swords?” Ukai asks in surprise, more than familiar with the band.

“Flannel is a favorite of mine. I’m kind of surprised it’s in your library.” She adds after she begins directing him to this evening’s party location. From the corner of his eyes, he can see the way her full lips are moving along each word with expertise. He sees the way her [eye color] orbs soften slightly and he can tell this song hits home for her.

She’ll never say why—she’ll never tell him this was the song that helped her move on from Sugawara Koushi while restoring her inner peace.

But Keishin is no fool. He can tell that this is physically hurting her—crushing her soul into the leather seat of his car and, instinctually, he wraps a large hand around hers that’s resting in her lap. “I came out tonight to have fun with you, so don’t you go getting sad on me.” He means each word with innocent intent, yet he cannot ignore the almost hidden, salacious drip to each syllable and neither can she. How could she when his touch sent volts of electricity through her skin?

“Right, right,” she says in a conceding tone, switching the audio to something much more upbeat and a little flirty. “Why did you agree to go out tonight?” If Ukai had an answer, then it died on his lips as he let go of [name]’s hand to reach for another cigarette. The process of lighting the tube, inhaling, and exhaling bought him an extra minute to come up with an excuse; her doing the same giving him another thirty seconds.

“I don’t know.” It’s a blatant lie—a lie that [name] believes all too easily—but Ukai can’t bring himself to admit the truth. He can’t admit out loud that she’s the only thing that’s been on his mind all week or that he jumped at the opportunity, created one even, to be able to have a one-on-one moment with her. Keishin can’t admit that he can tell there are intricate webs spun in her mind and that all he wants to do is untangle them one by one.

And he certainly can’t tell her that even the mere sight of her sends his brain into overdrive and all he wants to do is repeatedly fill her over and over with his seed until she is entirely his, inside and out in mind, body, and soul. There was no way in the nine circles of hell that Ukai Keishin was going to admit to his sinful thoughts.

“It’s just up here.” [name] points with gaunt fingers, cigarette between them as her voice is half choked from inhaling her own smoke. Mirroring the man’s actions earlier, she indulged in her own nicotine habit to quell the budding disappointment from Ukai’s lackluster response. They drove up a slight winding hill and as the trees pass by, the itch for her truth and her history was gnawing at him. He wanted to know why this rambunctious party girl invited him all week to these elusive after parties. Why Flannel ate away at her insides like it did his. Why did her and Sugawara breakup?

But he decides against it for the moment.

“Where are we?” Ukai asks. There’s cars all lining the sides of the road of varying worth—he felt even more out of place than normal with his older SUV, even if it was an upgrade for him, considering the large number of luxury vehicles.

“Bevelle’s house.” [name] says simply, pointing to an empty space in the streets as she throws the butt of her cigarette into the road. The casual way she name drops the owner of the club makes him gawk, catching flies in his mouth had there been any at the hour. With a satisfied, cheesy grin, she hops out of her seat and walks in the grass to meet Ukai on the other side as he clambers out of the vehicle as well. In familiarity, she grips into his forearm once again as they walk towards the forest mansion.

Keishin wasn’t sure what to expect when the two of them walked in, but a home full of people screaming his pseudonym and her name was not on that list. Younger hordes had surrounded [name], greeting her warmly and telling her how glad they were to see her again for the evening. Others were approaching Ukai, telling them how rare and a momentous occasion that the infamous artist Spira was amongst their midst.

“Glad to see you could join us, Spira.” His boss and club owner, Bevelle, approaches the mismatched couple. Bevelle was an alias used by the middle aged woman, her real name unknown to those that didn’t know her know her, and was once upon a time her stage name. While she had chosen a quiet location in the Miyagi prefecture, Bevelle was quite known in the underground scene. Granted, Ukai didn’t know any of that when he’d taken the job. If anything, it was all thanks to her that he was able to learn for his own success as well as granting him the opportunity to learn in the first place. “Good to see you too, trouble.” Bevelle affectionately goes to muss at [name]’s hair, to which she only replies with a cheeky grin.

“How do you know Bevelle?” Ukai presses his lips towards the ear of the woman still hanging onto him as she expertly leads the way to the kitchen. The car ride left her feeling slightly uncomfortable, ashamed even though she would never admit to that, and she knew she definitely needed a drink after it. Part of her was heavily rebuking herself for trying to pry into his mind by asking why he came along, even more so when she put on the one song that shattered her heart every time she heard it. It just excited her that he had it in his library, that he even knew who The Cardboard Swords were, and that he enjoyed the same obscure taste in music as much as she did.

“She’s a close family friend!” The chirp that [name] gives isn’t entirely convincing, like she isn’t telling the truth. Regardless, Ukai washes down his doubt with the beer he was handed, figuring she probably had her reasons. And as soon as the plastic is in each of their hands, [name] downs the contents immediately, hoping to drown out the nerves ebbing from her stomach with vodka. She should have been ecstatic—her old high school crush, her unrequited crush, was here with her, drinking side by side but she can’t help but feel the tension between them—sexual or otherwise.

Just as the two of them down their second round, a piercing voice cuts through the thicket of the masses, calling out her name and capturing her attention. “It’s your song! Come on!” A shrug and a smile crosses [name]’s features as she’s all but dragged away to a different part of the mansion. Much to his surprise, she grabbed onto Keishin to drag him along as well.

The two of them are presented with a myriad of sweaty, rolling bodies—much more gone than Ukai had ever seen at the club itself. It was oddly...sensual, if it could be called that, to see the fluid movements between party goers. Sensual, intimate, strange—all of them could be used interchangeably at this moment.

[name] is dancing with another woman, mouthing all of the words to the current pop song while bobbing and jumping around excitedly before her eyes lock on his. She’s in her element now. All sunshine and smiles like Ukai had seen from on occasion from years ago or most recently at the club, but they’re directed at him for once as she pulls him closer onto the dance floor. The taunting beats and repetitive call of “come on” and the way [name] loosely wraps her arms around his neck as she dances brings Ukai to the realization that this was the end of the line.

The end of the line, because Keishin can’t hold himself back anymore.

Not with the way her hips are grinding against is and she’s laughing warmly and heartily at his slight discomfort and her teeth are glittering off the lights in the dark room like stars in the night sky. Not with the way her head is thrown back and her dress drops low enough to flaunt the expanse of bare skin of her neck and collar bones that are just begging him to sink his teeth in. Not with the way her [eye color]ed orbs are locked with his as she sings along with the music, oddly enough alluding to some form of confession of her feelings.

He can’t fucking take it anymore.

The large hands he has on her hips move just under her arms to hoist her up, [name] instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist to keep her balance. Their eyes are locked, honed in on each other with the rest of the party melting into the background. With her deepest, most wild high school fantasy driving her actions, she grins. “Hi,” is all she says before Ukai cranes his neck back to cover her lips with his.

His kiss is everything she imagined it would be after years of pining. The smell and taste of smoke and wood floods her senses as his tongue laps at the watermelon lip gloss on her bottom lip before seeking refuge within her mouth. His hands, now wrapped around her thighs give intermittent squeezes, either to keep them grounded in reality or just because he needs something to clutch at—she’s unsure of which. In response, her manicured fingernails tangle into his messy blonde locks. Their kiss pours out their desperation, laying it all out on the table for the both of them to see clear as day.

The only thing that prompts them to break apart is the ending of the song.

“You wanna get out of here?” Ukai asks as he tenderly puts [name] back on the ground. As if he weren’t just making out with her moments ago, the motion is delicate and gingerly and almost loving.

“Not yet,” there’s a knowing, smug lilt in her voice as she turns on her heel and throw herself back into the throng of party people. Or rather, attempts. While she’s attempting to flee, Keishin snatches her wrist, pulling her closer until their chests are flush against each other.

“Nuh uh,” the blonde man tuts, “you’ve been asking me to join you at a party all week, now here I am. The hell makes you think you’re leaving my side tonight?” [name]’s grin only grows wider.

“I’ve waited for years for this opportunity, coach, so if you think I’m not gonna have fun with it, you’re dead wrong.” The word ‘years’ constricts the man’s heart—forces his pupils to blow into dilation with her modest, yet blunt confession.

“Years?”

“Years,” she repeats, “ever since that first practice you stumbled into the Karasuno gym as the temporary coach. Why do you think I came to every single exhibition match and tournament? Or came to study and do homework while you guys had practice?” This girl was grinding at every steel line of self-control that was left in Ukai’s body because every word spilling past her lips added an additional ten volts to the sexual tension between them.

“We’re leaving.” He bites out despite the delicate tone. Wrapping his hand around hers once again, Keishin tugs her along time dodge the party goers that threw the two of them curious glances, wondering why they were quick to leave shortly after their arrival. Just to tease him further, [name] almost wants to offer a rebuttal and tell him that they should stay longer and enjoy the show. However, she knows she’s done enough waiting and if he was taking her home, she wasn’t going to argue.

While urgency and desperation was their game, Keishin didn’t cut corners when it came to presenting himself as a gentleman as he helped [name] back into the car. Hormones be damned—he was still going to help a lady into the passengers seat. “You never did tell me why you finally agreed to come out tonight.” She says quietly, as if the two of them hadn’t been making out and dry humping a few minutes prior. “And it’s clearly not because you knew I had a crush on you all throughout third year—“

“Don’t act like you’re the only one with feelings in this.” Ukai grits out, speeding much faster back home than he did on the way to Bevelle’s house. Paying that no mind, [name]’s ears perk up at his own wayward confession. When she asked for clarity, a rumbling groan shakes his chest as he patted down his pockets in search for his nicotine sticks. “I didn’t recognize you the first night at the club because you look different now. Happiness looks good on you.”

“Happiness?” She echos confusedly, turning to face Ukai fully after lighting her own cigarette.

“You used to always look content back then—just barely content and nothing more. And I can’t stop thinking back to those days because you’re this ball of sunshine, kid, and I can’t stop wondering what the hell Suga did to you to dim your shine that badly. I haven’t stopped thinking about you all week.”

[name] is quiet for a moment at his own rendition, his own version, of a confession and she’s stunned. And she can’t tell if she wants to cry or kiss him because this is not that way she ever fantasized this conversation going. It was going better than she dreamed. Better, because the words that Ukai is saying adds an entirely new layer to his amped up personality—he wasn’t just the sexy volleyball coach that she used to pine over. He was a person with deep rooted feelings for justice in the sense of wanting to understand how someone could inflict damage to the innocent and he wanted to rectify said injustices. He wanted to know how someone like Suga could try to dampen her sunlight instead of allowing her to thrive and bloom.

She wants to kiss him, she decides, but since he’s driving, she settles for placing a chaste one on the corner of his mouth. “Serves you right,” she jokes when she pulls away, “it’s been a long four years for me. It’s your turn to suffer.”

“Trust me, this car ride is torture enough.”

[ next ]

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 31: Free Day - Something Like A Bird Chap.4: The Feathered And The Fanged

Danny says ‘not today Satan’ as a wild Vlad appears to bear witness to Danny’s winged ass.

To say Danny had been a bit tired after his parents giving him a full check over would be an understatement. They literally wanted to see every single little way his wings could move and how each and every muscle reacted to said movement. If he had any reflexes; which hint, he totally did. Hitting the bends of his wings in the right spots would cause them to kick out just like a knee. And he had a spot on his back that would make his feathers fluff out. After all that he just didn’t want his wings messed with anymore, oh and to sleep, thank you very much. Which his folks were perfectly content to let him do on the couch. Which promptly led to the personal discovery that wings were freaking awesome blankets.

Which all also led to this wonderful situation of walking up to one Vlad Masters looking down on him with a quirked eyebrow. Danny elects to not even dignify the man with a response instead he sits up, yawns exaggeratedly, stretches out his arms, and angles himself in just the right way to punt Vlad out the door via a nice big wing stretch. Multitasking, it truly is a wonderful skill. Truly.

Vlad is, of course, grumbling and scowling as he comes back in. “Must you act so ill-behaved, Daniel”.

Danny smirks, “do I look like I care what Satan thinks?”, and only smirks more at Vlad’s sigh and head shake.

Danny only vaguely pretends to be paying attention to Vlad as he gets himself some coffee. Vlad sounding almost genuinely curious, not that vampire-ass was ever genuinely genuine about anything, “I see your parents’ aren’t up yet”.

Danny tosses a cup full at Vlad, evil he may be but everyone needs a ‘wake me the fuck up and allow me to suffer through this bullshit’ coffee. “Everyone was up late, had some limby business to get up to. Far more legal than what qualifies as business to you”.

“Yes because the government wouldn’t find your developments questionable at best”. Danny actually chuckles at that, because truth. The government would love to go all creepy morally questionable evil scientist on his feathered ass. Sure they’d probably have to go through some whacky legal hoops to do it, like classifying him as not human or some shit, but he wouldn’t put it past them to try.

Danny laughs, “like you’re any better vampy”.

Vlad shakes his head, looking Danny over as he turns around, “I’m far less unnatural. Do you not even have the decency to put on a shirt? You have a guest you know”.

Danny smirks, “but it’s you?”. Shrugging, very content with having filled up his ‘annoy the heck out of Vlad’ quota so early in the day. Today must really like him. “My shirt’s somewhere on the floor”.

Danny grins like an idiot when Vlad lifts up the offending tank top with as few fingers as physically possible, “you mean this thing?”, huffing, “unacceptable, you can hardly be running around in a probable biohazard”.

“Hey”. Vlad predictably ignores him and incarnates his shirt. Like an asshole. “I liked that shirt you know”.

“Then buy a new one that isn’t covered in questionable stains that even I can’t identify”. Danny’s pretty sure that Vlad’s desired response wasn’t for him to feel proud. But that’s sure as shit what he’s feeling.

Danny grins at him a bit meanly, sounding painfully sarcastic while his ears twitch a little picking up on at least his dad getting up, “now what is this? Is the Vladimir Masters offering to take me shopping? And entirely on his dime? Oh now how could I possibly say no?”. That smile only getting more mean and smug when his dad sticks his head down the stairs and half-shouts, “that’s a great idea, Vladdie!”, bounding all the way down the stairs and moving to clap Danny on the shoulder under the wing, “no way Danny-boy can wear any of his t-shirts, sweaters, or hoodies with the wings!”.

Vlad quirks an eyebrow, speaking with very obvious venom to his voice; well obvious to anyone other than Jack, “certainly not. I’m truly surprised you haven’t blown them off him yet”.

Jack actually looks shocked by that, “what!?! Oh of course not! I’m sure heaven wouldn’t like that very much! Or Danny-boy!”, tilting his head and chuckling, “if heaven is where angels come from”.

Danny grins wide enough to hurt when Vlad chokes a little and spits out a mouthful of coffee, going wide-eyed all the while. Checkmate Vlad, whatcha gonna do now? “Excuse me?”. Danny’s almost impressed Vlad doesn’t sound nearly as baffled as he definitely has to be.

Everyone looking to Maddie as she comes down, scowling at Vlad for only a second before smiling at Danny, speaking as she ruffles Danny’s hair up, “it’s really all that makes sense. He just finally developed enough holy energy to form his wings and halo”. His dad excitedly flicking the clouds to make them spin around, “and! It explains his ecto-contamination! Angels are purifying after all! So he’s just purifying the town!”, Jack nods to himself and puts his hands on his hips, “the town certainly needs it!”.

Danny sighs, still grinning a bit, “dad, I’m not a walking filter”. Vlad just looks to him, a clear expression of ‘how in the name of all the Ancients did you pull this off?’ and ‘do they seriously believe that line of bullshit?’.

Jack laughs, “a walking, or flying, dehumidifier but for ectoplasm would be a better comparison!”, which Danny rolls his eyes at a bit fondly.

Maddie smiles and nods a little before speaking somewhat seriously at Danny, “though you really do need a new wardrobe. I doubt you have many tank tops”.

Danny grumbles with fake annoyance, “well I have one less that’s for sure”. Which Vlad smirks slightly over. While Maddie looks to Vlad, “and while I don’t know why you would offer to take Danny shopping, we certainly haven’t budgeted for it”, sighing like this is almost painful for her, “so we’ll accept the offer”.

Vlad grins immediately and Danny is mentally smacking himself for being a serious dumbass. Of course shit like this would backfire on him. That is exactly his kind of luck. Hopefully, this won’t go horribly. Maybe. Probably though. This is Vlad he’s talking -thinking- about here. “Why Maddie dear, it brings me nothing but joy to help young Daniel out in times of need”.

Danny gives the most pained and sarcastic, “yay”, he can muster. Which earns him one incredibly smug smile from Vlad. However, Danny is the one grinning meanly when his dad announced that they will, in fact, be taking the GAV and that he’s driving. Since Vlad immediately looked like what’s left of his life just flashed before his eyes.

Vlad, in an almost painfully obvious attempt to stall, holds up a finger, “well, I think Daniel here should acquire suitable-”, he glares at the ash on the floor as an obvious attempt at emphasis, Danny just rolls his eyes, “-attire. Now luckily, I just so happened to plan for such a predicament”.

His mom gives an impressively dry, “really”, as her only response to that. Which Vlad, of course, completely ignores, instead simply nodding curtly and promptly disappearing out the front door he had not too long ago been tossed out of via Danny’s well-aimed wing. Danny’s going to cherish having successfully done that.

Vlad returns almost suspiciously fast, telling Danny that the man had very explicitly planned for this. Which means the son of a corpse probably would have ruined his -still one hundred percent wearable, fuck you- shirt anyway. Danny eyes the purple velvet? fucking Ancients, vest draped over Vlad’s arm. Which he absolutely knows he can’t put on his damn self with his folks here and his dad would absolutely make him wear the ‘gift’ from dear old godfather Vladdie. Curse his luck. His dad as it is looks excitedly... excited.

“Smart thinking V-man! And it has buttons too!”, looking to Danny, “which would certainly be easier to get on. If you got that tank top on, then you’ll definitely have no trouble with this”.

Vlad, surprising no one but his dad, waves him off, “nonsense. Vests of quality are best shown how to be worn by experienced hands”. Making Danny mutter a very quiet, “fuck you and your anterior motives”, at him. Which very obviously just makes Vlad smirk.

Danny just sighs and swallows what little of his pride he actually actively has and turns around to let the fucking prick ahem he means Vlad slide it over his wings. But he does snap his wings open to full length rather aggressively and nearly knocks Vlad over. He would have, if the man’s reflexes weren’t on point.

Vlad blinks and shakes his head, “there are times where I do believe you are more dramatic than even I. Which is no small feat, Daniel, I would know”. Danny will absolutely take that compliment. Regardless Vlad does slip the vest over his wings, Danny rolling his eyes over definitely being able to feel that the prick is examining them as he goes. Danny eventually having to put his arms back after way longer that this should have taken to get the vest over his arms, Vlad was clearly drawing this shit out. Why did he let him do this again? And why didn’t he make sure the local vampire stayed out after he punted him out.

If Danny wasn’t in front of his folks he absolutely would be smacking Vlad’s hands off him or commenting very heavily on the major creep factor of this being perfectly fitted. And Vlad clearly knows this, based on the stupid smirk anyway, as he did up the buttons with precision. Though Vlad smoothing the vest out afterwards was seriously pushing it, and absolutely earned the surprise fingernail-sized ecto-beam straight to the knee. Take that you vampiric twat. Vlad scowls at him without missing a beat.

-

By the time they get to the mall, Vlad is just barely managing to not look frazzled. With the man, of course, smoothing out his suit as they hop out to cover up his slightly rattled nerves. He does make a point to mutter just loud enough for Danny to hear, “I know I have said this before, but your father drives like he is seeking death. Which I must say, there are far easier was to achieve”.

Danny snorts, whisper-snarking back, “what? Like offering his corpse up to you willingly? Maybe on a nice cheese platter?”.

Which Vlad actually has the audacity to give a confident, “yes”, in response to. Pompous ass.

Danny decidedly ignoring -and honestly barely noticing. It was hard to notice these kinds of things when you were the entire town’s certified freak and resident weirdass- all the staring and even pointing he’s getting, which is mostly over the wings. Not entirely, just mostly. Which is weird, freaking wings deserve way more attention and finger-pointing than the fact that he, Danny Fenton, was in a fucking velvet vest and with the freaking mayor; who also just so happens to be bloody stinking rich. This town has issues. So many issues. Probably every issue. Expect gangs. Wait, has there ever been gangs in Amity? Tilting his head, “I wonder, do you think Amity has ever had gangs?”.

Vlad rolls his eyes and gives an oddly bitter, “of course, every town has one or two, Daniel”.

Jack grins, “actually no!”. Both halfas looking at him disbelievingly. Which gets Maddie to explain, “we may have mistaken a few trouble makers for ghosts and covered them in goop”.

Danny can’t help laughing at that, “you know?!? That surprisingly makes sense as a crime deterrent!”, and laughs a little more. Vlad just looks at his folks like they were both slightly nuts. Everyone’s attention gets grabbed by who Danny’s sure is one of the middle school girls running up and holding out a book. Which Danny has some serious ominous feelings over where, exactly, this was going. So he’s honestly not surprised when she blurts out, “could you sign my bible”. Vlad turns to the side and actually looks to be trying not to wheeze in disbelief.

Danny just blinks down at her, “you’re asking me that like I know god personally”.

She gives the single most innocent, “you don’t?”, he thinks is possible.

Danny lowkey doesn’t want to crush her tiny little spirts but come the fuck on, dear Ancients. “... no. No I do not. Sorry?”.

She only pouts for a second before shoving the bible at him slightly more. Cheeks puffed out, “still. Angel’s an angel”.

Danny tries to make his sigh not seem too pained, it is truly very pained though. What’s next? Were priests going to ask him to speak at services? Or was a church going to start up around him? Oh! Maybe he’d wind up with someone ‘reinterpreting’ the bible to find references to him. That of course would totally escalate into him being on prayer beads and crucifixes. Which was a little on the nose considering his rather self-sacrificial ‘job’. Which also made it kind of funny. Was he gonna wind up an important part of what was basically the most dominating religion ever with a ridiculously sketch history? Eh, he’s probably totally jinxing himself here. “Aright kid”, at least being asked for autographs wasn’t actually uncommon for him, “where you want it?”, looking to his family... and Vlad, “anyone got a pen?”.

Vlad smirks at him, “there's one in your pocket, I do believe”, meaning Vlad put one there.

Danny squints at him for a solid minute, “go back to Hell, Satan. No one loves you except Baphomew”.

“That is hardly my cat's name, Daniel”.

Danny just rolls his eyes as he fishes out the pen that absolutely is in his pocket. Though snickering a bit when he noticed the look that borders on bloody murder that the girl is throwing Vlad’s way. Like she was taking Danny’s petty insult genuinely. Speaking while taking the bible, “he’s not literally the Devil, he’s just cold-hearted enough to seem at least closely related”, promptly signing the inside cover and having to make a damn point to not put down ‘Phantom’. And making the ‘y’ all fancy like by putting little doodle wings coming off the curved end. At least she seems happy with it, giggling after looking at it and running off while waving back at him. Danny chuckles over her still throwing Vlad a dirty look.

Danny looks to Vlad, “wow, it’s like she thinks you murdered Christ. Wonder why that is”. Vlad gives him a definitely unamused look.

Danny gets yoinked out of his mild pissing match with his archenemy by his dad grabbing his arm and pointing at their go-to fashion stop. Which no. Danny is not wearing spandex. Especially considering getting a loose tank top on and off was already difficult without intangibility. “No happening, dad. In fact, never happening”, which yes was him actively crushing his dad’s dreams just a little more. But seriously. Nope. He has some shame and pride. It is still intact, it’s honestly a miracle.

Jack sags, “awww”, but that poutiness barely lasts a second before he’s perked right back up, pointing and heading off to the local ‘teen’ hip/popular fashion store. Which yeah, he usually bought jeans from there. Shirts? Ha, no. He didn’t feel like going broke for some name brand shirt that’s no different than what he can get from the discount store. At one time he preferred the local used store, but most people’s clothing never lasted long enough to make it to there in one piece; unless it was truly hideous. Had tons of shoes though, which saved his wallet more than he liked to admit. He was stupid hard on shoes.

Danny shakes his head at Vlad holding up a DC tank top, “that’s ugly. I’m not wearing something just because it’s got some brand name bullshit on it”.

Vlad rolls his eyes, “brand names say a lot about your worth and self, Daniel. Though I hardly expect you to know that. Mind you, if you try for Ed Hardy, we will be having words”.

Danny scrunches up his face, “do you think I’m fucking blind?”. Even in a pinch, Sam wouldn’t stoop to that. She’d show up in garbage bags saying something about dressing sustainably and recycling first.

“Sometimes I wonder”. Danny throws a t-shirt directly at his face. Though fine, his fashion style could suitably be called dumpster-chic most days.

Hovering to wander off to where his dad is also grabbing up a really awful fashion disaster, some two-toned plaid thing that’s probably marketed as ‘vintage western’ or something. “Dad no. I’m not the fashionista version of a lumberjack. Or queer enough to have an ingrained love of plaid. And even if I was, I still wouldn’t pick that”. His dad doesn’t even look offended at that, which means he likely agrees.

Danny watches him then pick up a ‘it’s not gay if he’s dead’ shirt with his dad looking almost in shock, making Danny actually have to float to sit down because he’s laughing so hard. Vlad glancing over and quirking an eyebrow, “now I feel rather reminded why I don’t shop at these sorts of stores”.

“Whatever boomer!”.

“I am not a boomer, you know this Daniel”.

“Sure thing, boomer”. Vlad smartly keeps his mouth shut this time, obviously looking to avoid more of Danny’s bullshit.

Maddie smiles at Danny but shakes her head at the shirt, “I will never understand teens love of that spook”.

Danny snickers while standing up, “well some sure think he’s got the personality and behaviour of a real angel. And the fly by the cuff ways of his are ‘manly’ or whatever to the jocks”. Vlad snorts at that from halfway across the store in the more ‘business casual’ section. Ha. That’s not happening either. Vampire-ass would have to literally kiss his ass to get him into that. Danny would take high-class professional professional over ‘business casual’ any day.

Though the patchwork button down with the elbows and shoulders fashionably cut out isn’t horrible, Danny’s still not wearing that on principle alone. So Danny shouts, “NOT TODAY SATAN!”, loud enough to make the guy jerk and get the entire store's attention. Vlad physically sighs and turns to glare at him. Danny raises a wing over his face in a bastardised version of ‘talk to the hand’ before Vlad can say jack shit.

His mom finally gives him a little light in the darkness of ‘preppy but trying to seem edgy’ fashion, holding up a little ‘evil nasa’ tank top with the bottom all shredded, “okay yes, we’re finally getting somewhere here. Nice”.

Vlad sighs exasperatedly as he rejoins them, “I see no point in that, if you wanted to look like you got attacked you could simply go out and get attacked. Shred it yourself”,

Danny looks to him, “you know what else I could shred”, and looks him up and down like that was a threat to every single piece of clothing he owned.

“I would like to see you try”.

“Is that a challenge”.

“Yes”.

Danny turns to his mom, “hey mom, you got a bazooka handy?”. She grins maliciously, “why yes I think I do”. Vlad looks like he has just been gravely wounded. The sales lady looks over to them, “for my sanity, please don’t. I’ve been awake for forty-nine hours”.

Danny chuckles, grabbing up the few tank tops that seemed suitable, the lady leading the four of them over to the dressing rooms, “personal record?”.

“I wish”.

Danny chuckles, “I feel ya. I’d offer a Death-spresso, but I think I’m the only one allowed to drink those and that’s only because I proved that shit wouldn’t kill me”.

“I welcome death”.

Danny actually wheezes at that as he loads up the dressing room, “mood”, then struggles into the probably too small dressing room. Having to cram his wings around, which holy shit thank everything he could use intangibility because he seriously could not pull literally anything over his arms or wings right now. Hell getting his wings remotely unfolded was straight-up not happening.

Stepping out to pose, “it’s decided, dressing rooms are the devil”. His dad laughs loudly at that.

Thankfully they wind up walking out with all of the tops -excluding an orange one that he’s positive his dad grabbed purely because it was orange- and with nothing getting blown up! Though Danny sighs when Vlad beelines for the ‘fancy rich asshole’ store that Sam’s parents’ bragged about shopping at. Mostly her mom. Knowing his luck he’ll run into her. In fact, that is emphatically what is going to happen.

Aaaaaannnnnnnd that’s exactlaly what happened. Yay. Spotting her as he’s standing in the dress-shirt section while wondering how the heck Vlad thinks they’re going to find anything he can wear here. Lovely. Her, of course, noticing him. Because how the Zone wouldn’t she? He had wings. And immediately making a beeline for him. Eh, this might as well happen.

She stops next to him and folds her hands over her waist, “excuse my interruption, I just wanted to apologise for certain past behaviours”.

Danny blinks at the lady with oversized earnings and a bubblegum pink sundress, “what?”.

She shifts almost like this is physically painful for her to do, telling Danny she so totally doesn’t actually want to apologise but thinks she has to. “Me and my husband's treatment of you has likely interrupted your duties. So I am apologising. I realise things work in mysterious ways and that maybe Samatha was a test, with you to supervise”.

Danny groans and mutters to himself, “oh god fuck”, and shakes his head because he is so not dealing with this from ‘I’ll put a restraining order on you’ Mrs. Manson. “Sam’s not some test for you to struggle through. If anything, she had to struggle through you”.

She never gets a chance to respond to that beyond looking overly offended as Vlad is just suddenly there, “I find I must agree. You are quite insufferable”, glancing at Danny, “both of you”.

Danny smirks, “I thought the point of the Devils fall was to suffer. To never know love or affection and never grasp what he seeks”. Vlad blinks, “I’m almost impressed by how mean that was”, looking to Mrs. Manson, “you're still here?”.

Mrs. Manson blinks at him and looks entirely offended before obviously cluing in who, exactly, this was, “oh Mayor Masters!”, glancing between him and Danny, “you two... know each other”.

Danny snickers while Vlad rolls his eyes like this should be supremely obvious, “of course. I am the boy’s godfather after all”, and grumbles almost too quiet for Danny to hear, meaning he probably didn’t actually mean for Danny to hear, “though I’d be better as his actual father”.

Danny walks past him whispering, “in your dreams only, frootloop”, and leaves Vlad to deal with the rich obnoxious lady. Easily catching her fake cheery, “oh I didn’t know that! Well then this is certainly the best place to bring the young angel shopping”. Sometimes Danny forgot Sam’s family were religious.

Danny finally, finally, finds a section with more wing-suitable clothing. Never thought he’d shop with that in mind. He’s honestly not too surprised that his folks didn’t follow them in, probably went to get food instead, since he’s pretty sure they’re banned from this store. He has no clue if that’s Vlad’s fault or his dad’s. This is also the exact time that one of the tailors, or whatever they’re called is fancy ass stores, decides to actually dignify him with some attention. Guy probably thought Danny, being well himself, wasn’t actually going to buy any of this crap. Which yeah, normally would be the case but fuck vests were actually a genuinely good idea. Probably the only piece of layering he could wear now. Unless he goes around cutting big ass holes in all his hoodies. Which, yeah he’s probably gonna do.

The guy nods at him as he’s looking at the backs of some of the tops. And speaks sounding oddly commanding, “straighten up”. Danny quirks an eyebrow but does as he’s told. He’ll play along, see where this goes.

The guy promptly starts manhandling the base of his wings, like a full blown feel up. Squishing the feathers together, figuring out the width of the bone and muscle, space between his wings, even pokes at his back muscle. This feels excessive. “Oddly, I feel like making another I feel like a hooker joke”. The guy just makes a tsk sound at him before running off, or sauntering, whatever, he walks like he’s rich. Like Vlad, but with less hidden villainous energy.

The guy comes back not seconds later with a few different vests, “I’m sure a racer back of this style-”, holding up the first from the pile he brought, “-would give you more comfort and range of motion. Definitely more than what you’re currently wearing”.

Vlad, once again, appears out of nowhere, “indeed. I couldn’t exactly know the precise width between his wings”, looking to Danny, “I am not psychic, Daniel. But I made an educated guess”.

All three jerk a little from Jack shouting from outside the store, “that’s our Vladdie! Always a thinker!”.

Vlad scowls, “your faith in me is truly endearing”. The way he said that making it clear he found it nothing close to endearing. The tailor guy also scowls and makes hand motions to shoo the man off. Ah okay, it was totally his dad’s fault. Which makes Danny snicker a little.

The guy immediately gets back to business, laying out a few other styles. Pointing at one that didn’t even technically have arm holes just kinda looked like it went around the neck, down the back, and over his stomach. And another that went around the neck, over the chest, and around the waist. “Now these ones are a bit more on the feminine side but you’re muscular enough to pull them off”, gesturing to Vlad with a thumb, “he’s not”. Vlad looks suitably offended for a second and Danny snickers some more, he officially likes this tailor guy. Then pointing to the last he brought over that was basically just the same as the one that went over hsi front but with sleeves attached, “now this one will give the illusion of wearing a more traditional vest and is usually what we recommend for men who have to wear bulky upper back braces. But I’m sure it’ll work for our purposes today”. With that Danny promptly gets effectively pushed to the fitting rooms. Not changing rooms because this place fits things to size. Aka it’s expensive as fuck. And knowing Vlad, he’s going to wind up with at least one of every style and the man will be tickled green by the end of this.

The sad thing is the vests were stupid easy to get on, minus the racer back but that one was more comfortable than his current shit. And fine, he looks good in it. And yes, Vlad’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Now as for colour, obvisouly you’ll need at least one in black, I’d recommend the most traditional one, the racer back. The rest are more on the eccentric side, especially without a jacket over top. For those I’d recommend green and magenta. Those are your colours after all”.

Danny blinks, “heh?”. Vlad muttering, “eloquent”, though also looking slightly confused.

“Those are the colours typically associated with you, Daniel, as the principal guardian archangel”, tilting his head, “though I take it you don’t remember about that”.

Alright, Danny thinks the angel thing is one hundred percent going too far now and being taken way too seriously. “Uh, well I’m not a pink kinda guy. And no”.

“Ah well, you were said to be in charge of the gates to ascension and one of the highest ranked angels in the universe. So I’d take the compliment”.

Danny blinks as he guy rushes off, looking to Vlad, “are you having an aneurysm, because I’m having an aneurysm”. Vlad actually sputters, while Danny pulls out his phone to wiki some shit. Blinking down at the screen, “oh you’ve got to be shitting me”. Because yup, apparently there’s an angel called Daniel. His half-life is some serious bullshit, he’s still absolutely positive he’s not actually an angel though. Because come on.

Vlad swallows, “well, one afterlife certainly exists. Another isn’t unreasonable”.

“I will smite you, devil”.

Vlad huffs a laugh, “oh I hardly believe this, boy. Don’t take me for a fool. We both know why this happened”, Danny crosses his legs up in the air purely to emphasise that fact, which Vlad hums at, “precisely. Though the angel argument has some merit to those unaware”.

Danny rolls his eyes and plants the soles of his shoes back on the ground as the guy comes back. Black, green, and one purple vests in hand.

Danny honestly isn’t surprised they leave with enough clothing that someone without super-strength would have a hard time carrying it. And thankfully his folks want to go home now, meaning Vlad has to suffer through his dad’s driving just that little bit more. Not that Danny cares or knows why the prick doesn’t just go his own way at this point.

He gets his answer though when his parents run off to a suspiciously well timed ghost alert from city hall -Danny can tell there is not a ghost there- and he feels himself promptly getting tasered in the side.

Jumping sideways after regaining his balance from very suddenly being back in touch with gravity and scowling at Vlad, who's pocketing the Plasmius Maximus with a smirk, “Vlad seriously?!?”.

Vlad doesn’t dignify him with a response immediately, instead transforming and making a swipe at him. Danny flapping to use the air to get him out of the way quicker. Surprisingly, it works. Vlad floating up into the air, “you need to be able to defend yourself regardless of form or power, boy!”.

Danny rolling his eyes and sidestepping a pink ecto-beam, “you’re still not my mentor, you nut-case. Besides, aren’t we taught to ignore the teachings of the devil”.

Vlad forms two duplicates and sends them lunging around the sides at him, the main Vlad shooting another ecto-beam at him. Considering how Danny’s back is practically against a wall, the whacko is clearly trying to get him up in the air. “You don’t have much of a choice right now, do you Daniel”.

Danny just scowls, mentally says ‘fuck it’ and jumps up to avoid the beam while smashing his wing wrists into the two duplicates as hard and fast as he can. The air force that blows at the ground forcing him up into the air, but he uses it to plant his feet on the side of the wall giving the illusion of defying gravity. While the two duplicates pop out of existence. Danny smirks to himself over the flash of surprise on Vlad’s face. That’s what a fucker gets for underestimating him. Haha.

Vlad gets much more aggressive about the ecto-beams and blasts after that. Which fine, effectively forces him off the ground and into the sky. He’s mentally thanking Mrs. Testlaff for forcing him to effectively practice flying, his folks too. Though as he twists to dip sideways he knows Vlad can tell this isn’t easy for him. This kind of flight was just so freaking different and he wasn’t used to it yet.

“I swear you just want to satisfy your urges to assault minors!”, and goes low to the ground again, actually getting a chance to land; without crashing! Which then gives him something of a wicked idea that might cause some property damage, because if the weak-ish not aimed at the ground thing he did earlier launched him into the air a little then what would happen if he gave one big-ass flap directly over the hard surface of the road. Spreading his wings out as far as he can, crouching down and aimed slightly towards Vlad, who’s looking slightly cautious.

Needless to say Danny goes off like a freaking missile, leaves a crater in the ground from the sheer air pressure, and the shock wave pummels Vlad for only seconds before Danny gut punches him as he zips past. Sending Vlad flying.

Danny just glides up high in the air for bit, hidden by the clouds and trying to locate Vlad again. The wind up here felt really really cool though. It was actually really nice. Comforting even. With floating it really didn’t matter how high up or low down you were, it all felt the same. But like this he can feel the air pressure, the thinness of the air, how wet or dry it was. He feels like he could just be carried off by the wind and relax. He snaps his attention to refocus though when he spots Vlad, who’s looking around cautiously but also like his victory is assured.

Ha. Not a chance.

The really stupid annoying thing is, as he positions himself to dive bomb the guy, Vlad had a point. Him being attacked in human form happens and he can’t always run off to transform. He can’t let his wings be a hinderance more than their size technically already was. Tucking his wings and flicking a bit for a sideways spin, which will look freaking sick if it actually works, and diving down; gravity doing most of the work. He’s high enough up to get some serious velocity. Hey maybe sciences wasn’t totally useless for him.

The only problem with this, Danny thinks as he rapidly smashes into Vlad who doesn’t even get the chance to turn intagible before both of them slam into the concrete, is that he can’t see for shit due to the world spinning around rapidly. He does hear Vlad transform back, so success, though.

Both of them groaning from inside the crater. “Daniel, if you ever do that, to a human, you will kill them. Ancients”, groaning again, “though fair play to you”.

Danny does a weird hybrid of a chuckle, wheeze, and groan, “pleasure doing business, with ya, frootloop. Least I didn’t, break anything”.

“The road might, disagree”.

“That’s, your problem. Mr. Mayor”.

“It’s ghost-related. Governments problem”.

“Ha. Point”.

“Are you going to, get off me”.

“You’re the one, with intangibility right now”.

“Surprisingly, I find I don’t, really feel like it”.

“Then you can lay there and, eat my feathers”, Danny flops a wing on the guys face, groaning slightly from the movement though. Oh he is so going to be feeling this tomorrow.

Eventually the two do indeed get up. Vlad straightening his jacket and trying to act like he doesn’t have a serious forming bruise on his stomach. While Danny is shaking off debris from his wings. It really does feel like he used them to punch an entire road. Just as his folks get back. Maddie bursting out of the GAV, “what happened to you two?!?”. Jack sticking his head out, “was it a ghost!?!l”.

Danny chuckles awkwardly though sending a slightly mean chuckle Vlad’s way before answering his folks, “turns out my wings make for pretty good ghost shields”, changing to a rather mocking tone and side-eyeing Vlad, “saved dear Vladdie’s suit from even a single little singe”. Vlad just huffs and gives his suit a tug that feels very final.

Jack laughs and claps Danny on the back while Maddie shakes her head and ushers everyone inside.

Everyone sitting around the table and enjoying comfort drinks, yes even Vlad, when Danny snorts hot chocolate out his nose at someone shouting, “WHY ARE THERE GODDAMN CRATERS IN THE ROAD EVERY DAMN TIME I VISIT THIS FUCKING TOWN!!!”. Danny puts his head down on the table and laughs.

[monellabella]

Where are the rats? AKA Pt. 2 of the hunger games x HP crossover series ft. Fredward Weaslely (OC x Fred W.)

a/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE ON PT. 1 I NEARLY CRIED READING EVERY COMMENT SO THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH MWAH <3

Warnings: Just some cursing and a mention of a black eye (this is all I can think of but pls let me know if I should add any!)

Taglist: (leave a comment or message me to be added!) @anchoeritic​ @pineapplesandpinas​ @mitsukui​ @beiahadid​

Link to Pt. 1: https://bisou-doux.tumblr.com/post/640770995870957568/the-starving-games-ft-freddie-weasel-aka-pt-1 

Those ten minutes felt both shockingly short and blissfully eternal; As time seemed to run of its own accord. Seeing my mother and sister alone was enough to make me misty-eyed; but when mom pulled a disgruntled-looking Tulip from her bag and handed him to me, I burst into tears. I collapsed onto the floor and just sat there. My mother and sister joined me. I curled into mom’s lap, allowing her to stroke my hair as I laid my head on her chest and gave in to the soothing, wavelike motion of her breathing. Maeve snuggled up close to us and hugged my waist from behind, leaning her head on my back. Tulip, that furry little menace, seeming to sense the heavy sadness that blanketed the room- plopped himself onto my lap and curled into a ball against stomach. I sniffled and gave a light chuckle. I started stroking his plush fur absentmindedly; I eventually let my eyelids, heavy with grief and exhaustion, to slowly droop closed.

None of us felt much like talking. We just sat like that for a while- letting the tears roll silently down our cheeks. I could’ve easily fallen asleep, but my mother soon gently sat me up, and I reluctantly shifted from my place in her lap. Maeve begrudgingly followed suit, and we both sat criss-cross on the floor across from her. Maeve shuffled closer and leaned her head on my shoulder. Tulip was kind enough to stay in his place- in fact, seemingly enjoying it- and I felt the vibrations of his contented purrs echo through my chest as I pet him. At last, my mother broke the silence, “Seph,” she sighed, “I- um-” she seemed to be at a loss for words. “Mom, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.” I said quietly. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Oh, Seph,” she leaned forward and hugged me tightly. I tried to keep my composure, but my voice still shook when I spoke, “It’s gonna be okay, mom. You have so much love around here- none of the aunties or uncles would ever let you and Maeve fend for yourselves- you know that.” I rubbed her back comfortingly. She sniffled, “I know but-” she sighed and pulled away slowly, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Seph, promise me you’ll try.”

“I promise- no, I swear- whatever happens, I am leaving that arena alive.” I said resolvedly. My mother looked at me, her eyes, like mine and Maeve’s, were red and puffy. She cupped my face with her hands and gave me a small smile. Planting a tender kiss on my forehead, I reached up to place my own hands over hers. Maeve, who was still at my side, spoke up, “You didn’t have to do it, y’know. I could’ve handled it.” She sniffled and wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, “Not to mention Tulip- He’s gonna miss you! You’re his favorite out of the three of us!” she added. I looked over at her and scoffed, “First of all, kiddo, you haven’t even hit your growth spurt yet- so I doubt you’d be handling anything other than that fancy Capitol silverware.” Mom laughed, and Maeve looked down and smiled, “Also- what on earth makes you think I’m Tulip’s favorite? The little jerk was SLEEPING ON MY FACE THIS MORNING.” At that, we all burst out laughing, the sound of it bouncing off the walls and making everything seem a little bit lighter. When our laughter died down, a comfortable silence took its place. We sat there for a moment soaking it in. Eventually, Maeve turned to me and broke the quiet, “Hey, Seph?”

“Mhmm?”

“Give ‘em hell, will you?” she said gravely. Instead of reprimanding her for her choice of words, mom nodded, and looked at me earnestly, “Give those bastards in the Capitol a run for their money.” 

“But how? They own me now- I’m their property. They could do whatever the hell they want.” I said.

“Bullshit. You’re still a person. Not a hunk of meat.” she gently placed her hand on the side of my face, “You have a brain- use it.” She glanced around the room and lowered her voice to a near whisper, “The thing the Capitol fears more than anything is the districts realizing exactly that. They’re afraid we’ll rise up against them when we realize we’re not just brainless pawns. They keep us in check with the games- reminding us that they have all the power- that they can threaten us all they want but we’ll never have the guts to do anything about it. But that’s all they are- threats. They’re threatening us because they’re afraid of us.”

“But what am I supposed to do about it? I can’t exactly organize a rebellion.” I replied, matching her lowered tone. 

“I’m not asking you to. What I’m asking you to do is remember that you are not just a sheep off to the slaughter. Make them like you- show them that you’re not just some kind of dirty, uneducated savage. Appeal to their vanity; trust me, they have a lot of it. Whatever happens, make all those pricks at the Capitol wonder if maybe they shouldn’t have sent you into the games- that you might just be the one tribute they seriously regret sending into the arena. Show them you have a mind and soul. Give those Capitol freaks something to feel for. But most importantly,” she leaned in and spoke in a barely audible whisper, “give that motherfucker Snow something to be afraid of.” She leaned back and looked me dead in the eye. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I nodded wordlessly. 

“And for god's sake please don’t let them put you in some kind of hideous outfit, or I swear, I’ll stop rooting for you then and there.” Maeve joked. I looked over at her and smiled. I ruffled her hair and gave her a big smooch on her forehead. “I won’t. Pinky promise.” we hooked our pinkies together and gave each other a curt nod. “Besides,” I said, “if the outfit’s ugly enough, I’d rather go naked. At least that would earn me some points with some of the male sponsors, don’t you think?” Maeve giggled in response. I leaned over and hugged them both, “I love you. I love you both so much. I’m coming back, you hear me? I’m coming back.” We heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. I gave Tulip a quick kiss on top of his head, and whispered “I love you, too, Tulip. You’re the best cat anyone could’ve asked for.” I handed him over to Maeve, and she quickly but gently placed him back into the bag as we all stood up. Mom hugged me so tight I could hardly breathe, but I didn’t care. “I love you. I love you so much, sweetie.” she whispered. “I love you, too, mom.” My eyes started to water. She planted a kiss on my forehead and both my cheeks, and I stepped over to Maeve as I heard the footsteps getting closer, “I love you, kiddo. Don’t ever forget it.” “I love you, too.” she replied breathlessly, tears now pooling in her eyes. Maeve held the bag between the three of us, Tulip poking his head out from the top of it, and I embraced them both as tightly as I could manage. A moment later, the door swung open and five peacekeepers entered the room. “Time’s up.” one of them said. We all turned to face him, but I maintained a tight grip on Mom and Maeve’s arms. “You two,” he said pointing to my mother and sister, “Out.” Two of the peacekeepers walked over and grabbed hold of their arms. They pulled them away with such force, I had no choice but to let go. I stared after them, my feet glued to the floor, as the two peacekeepers pulled them out of he room. My breathing quickened and I felt myself starting to panic. I rushed towards the door to see if I could still catch a glimpse of them, but I was held back by two more peacekeepers grabbing my arms. “Wait, please, just a few more minutes.” I said desperately. I saw the bright purple edge of Maeve’s dress disappear as they rounded the corner into the main hall. “Please. Please, I’m not ready to go.” I choked. I heard their steps echo across the marble as they were made to walk rapidly towards the exit. “MOM!” I cried, pushing harder against their iron grip. “MAEVE!” I shouted, fat tears rolling down my cheeks. I grunted, practically throwing myself out of their clutches. “LET GO OF ME!” I screamed, “LET GO OF ME YOU FUCKING BAST-” but the rest of my sentence was muffled as one of the peacekeepers clapped his hand over my mouth. I thought about biting his palm, but it was unfortunately protected by a thick leather glove. But him and his stupid gloves couldn’t stop me- I screamed anyway- yelling out obscenity after obscenity as I continuously tried to free myself from them. I was losing my voice, and I strained against them so hard, I thought my shoulders might pop out of their sockets. When I heard the sound of the heavy brass doors being opened and closed, I went limp. I stopped fighting. I slumped forward as my breathing slowed, and my anguished cries turned into defeated sobs. The peacekeeper removed his hand from my mouth, and the one still standing behind us, who’d been observing my little meltdown, took a few steps closer, “You done?” he asked. I huffed in annoyance, “Yes,” I croaked, my voice practically non-existent. “Good. Now shift it or we’ll drag you to the train by your ankles.” I gulped, straightening up just in time to once again be shoved to my next location. 

Instead of leaving through the brass doors, we walked straight past them and down a second hallway opposite the one we just came from. This one was slightly larger, and the dark wood-panelled floor had square tiles of dark green marble lining either side of it. At the end of it was a set of bolted steel doors flanked by two more peacekeepers. As we approached them, they opened the doors to reveal what appeared to be a large, dimly lit tunnel. It looked like the underground station we took that morning- only much, much nicer. The concrete platform we stood on was unnaturally clean- neither a single piece of trash, nor suspiciously blood-like spill. The tall, arched ceiling was entirely covered in dark blue and green tiles that still gleamed despite the dim lighting. I didn’t think it was possible for an underground station in a city to be entirely vermin-free; yet here I was, and there was not a rat or cockroach in sight. But the most peculiar thing was how wide the single set of tracks was- they were at least 12 or 13 feet wide. For fuck’s sake, how big could this train possibly be?, I thought to myself. A few moments later, two peacekeepers emerged from steel doors, grasping the arms of a tall, redheaded boy. They walked forward and stood a few feet to my right. I looked over, and tried to hide my smile: despite their armored uniforms, the two peacekeepers looked absolutely ridiculous standing on either side of their prisoner- he was at least a good four to six inches taller than both of them and made the two of them look like little children holding onto their mommy. Despite the fact that he looked like he could crush them with his pinky, Fred was sporting a nasty black eye that hadn’t been there less than an hour ago. Observing his injury, I could’ve sworn I saw him glance at me. I tried to catch his eye- well, the good one- but he just clenched his jaw and resolved to stare blankly at the ground below him. I exhaled through my nose in frustration and turned my gaze back to the empty tracks in front of me. We stood there in torturous silence for a few minutes, until suddenly I heard a faint rumbling coming from the right of the tunnel. As it got closer, some of the lights flickered and everything looked to be shaking. A few moments later, a sleek, black bullet train pulled into the station and whizzed past us until it slowly came to a squeaking halt. Every window was tinted so that you couldn't see inside. The door in front of us slid open with a small hiss, and Ms. Magenta from the ceremony stepped out. She gasped happily, “Oh, my lovely tributes, I am so-” she paused upon seeing Fred’s eye, “My goodness what have they done to you?” No one said anything. She turned to the peacekeepers holding Fred, “Did you do this?” she said sternly. 

“He wasn’t cooperating.” one of them replied flatly.

“That’s not an excuse to abuse him! Don’t you understand that he is going to be on television in front of the entire country? He cannot have that on his face, it’s hideous! It will ruin his entire outfit!” she said shrilly. 

“Not my problem.” he responded. Ms. Magenta scoffed angrily then took Fred by the wrist and whisked him away from the peacekeepers, “Come, my dear, we’re going to get this all fixed up. You will get the best treatment the Capitol has to offer!” She turned on her heel and walked over to me. “You, too, my dear- come, come!” she chirped. The peacekeepers maintained their grip on my arms and started walking towards the train, but she turned and stopped them, “Oh, please, let go of her,” she huffed before stepping back and yanking me over by the wrist, “She’s a girl, not an animal.” she said disapprovingly. She took mine and Fred’s hands into her own and I stumbled a bit when she jolted us forward. Walking briskly to the train, I smirked as I put my free hand behind my back, and held up my middle finger. 

I held on to the tiny railing on the side of the five or so steep steps leading into the train, and the door hissed shut behind us. Once at the top, I turned to face a room that made the marble halls of the Justice building look like a pile of bricks. She let go of our hands but I hardly noticed as I stood gaping at the space in front of me. I now clearly understood why those tracks were so wide- it must’ve been double- maybe triple- the size of the apartment I lived in. There was an elaborate crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and gold sconces in the spaces between the windows. The floor was made of dark cherry-wood panels that looked like they’d never seen a single step. On either side of the train carriage, there was a short little couch, a chaise I think it’s called, with gold legs and light-blue silk cushions. In the middle of the car, below the chandelier, there were two larger couches facing each other that matched the ones on the side. Between them was an elegant glass table where a white, porcelain tea set, and colorful little cakes on a silver-tier platter sat on its surface. The carriage itself carried a faint scent of old wood and lavender. I looked over to see Fred standing there with the same, awed expression. “Is- is this all for us?” he asked quietly. 

“Of course it is! You are both very important guests of the Capitol- it would be rude of us not to show you the best of our hospitality.” Ms. Magenta replied brightly. “Now, if you would follow me, I’ll show you to your rooms and then we will meet in the dining car for supper, alright?”

“Wait there’s more?” I asked, my voice still a bit hoarse. 

“Well, obviously.” she replied chuckling, “The trip from here to the Capitol takes at least a week- you can’t expect to stay in one room the whole time, can you?” she laughed lightly then made her way to the door at the other end of the car. It slid open to another train car- this one as equally opulent as the last, though instead of couches, in the center of the room were two pairs of plush silk chairs. A jade and white marble chess board sat between two of them, the pieces all lined up perfectly. Between the others was a small, square wooden table with a pack of playing cards sitting on top. “I’ve never played chess before.” Fred remarked.

“I have; it’s fun.” I replied looking up at him. 

“Really? D’you think you could teach me?” he said, turning to face me.

“Sure.”

“Is it a hard game?”

“No, not once you get the rules.”

“Okay, good,” he said nodding to himself, “You’ll teach me then?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.” 

“Cool.” He looked down at the ground and a small smile crossed his face.

We followed Ms. Magenta through the next few train cars until at last she stopped and turned to us, “So, behind me are your rooms. Yours Fredrick-”

“It’s just Fred, actually.” 

“Very well; Fred, your room is on the left, and Persephone, yours is on the right.” she paused then looked over to me, “You do like to be called Persephone, don’t you?”

“Well, most people call me Seph, but you can-”

“Persephone it is! Don’t worry, it is a very pretty name, everyone at the Capitol is going to love it.” she said excitedly, “Now off to your rooms! I’ll see you both at six o’clock in the dining car.”

“Wait a second,” I said, “You never told us your name.”

“I didn’t? Huh- I was sure I mentioned it...well anyways, it’s Emerald. Emerald Tallis. But of course, you can both call me Emmie. Now both of you- rooms!” she said walking away briskly. 

“Wait, but how will we know-” Fred started to ask. 

“There are clocks on your walls!” Emmie responded as she walked through to the next carriage. “Ta-ta!” she said airily, waving her hand above her head as the door hissed shut behind her. Fred and I stood there awkwardly for a moment before I cleared my throat, “Um, I’ll see you at six.” I said quickly. 

Without looking up, he nodded, “See you at six.” And with that, we both walked hastily into our respective rooms and shut the door. The room was surprisingly plain. It contained a large bed with a dark grey comforter partially inlaid in light wood-panelled walls, a small desk in the corner to my right, and some shelves to my left. The whole room was basked in a warm glow emitting from the strips of light that trailed across the top of the wood panels on the walls. Admittedly, it was a nice change from the extravagance of the rest of the train. I stepped over to the bed and fell backwards on to the plush comforter. I kicked off my shoes then sat up once more, leaning back on hands. My stomach rumbled.

Shit, I thought, I should’ve snagged one of those cakes. 

I massaged my still sore throat.

And maybe some tea, too.

a/n: If you’ve made it this far, welcome I have a task for you: can you give Seph this mug so she can drink her tea

I don’t think she knows what a dinosaur is but she’s gonna like the mug. 

[lovelyirony]

for the made up fic title game what about... 'dice la canción que algún te llevarás mi tristeza (entre miles de colores)' which translates to 'the song says that someday you'll take away my sadness (in between a million colours)' 🥤

Tony knows that everyone thinks that soulmates fix everything. He’s seen all the movies of hopeful young women looking at the elegant, painted-on-script on their arms, starry looks pasted on as they sing some bullshit song about waiting for their true love. 

He’s read books about a man finding the love of his life in a diner, and how much love they both have for each other. It’s hailed as a literary classic and it’s his classmate’s (Timothy’s) favorite book. 

Movies and books. Some of the best tools for hiding realities. 

Here’s another thing that Tony has seen, read into: his parents’ relationship. 

Mama has the words wrapped up her leg, calling her gorgeous and wonderful. 

It’s a lie, of course. No one thinks their words lie, but Tony sees it in the way that her stance always shifts to put pressure on her right leg, the one without the words. 

How even in the summer, she’ll wear long skirts to cover the words, how she carefully skirts around how the “love of her life” is doing in interviews. 

Howard wears long-sleeved shirts, flirts with other women and says that words don’t matter in the face of love. 

The oldest trick in the book, and they fall for it every time. 

But Howard was right about one thing: words don’t matter. 

Tony has his right across his chest, in a script that’s half-print, half-cursive: 

I swear to god, get out of my way or so help me god I’ll kill you. 

Really nice words. Wow. Tony feels so infinitely loved and cherished. 

His mother flinches when she sees his words, flinches at how cruel his soulmate must be. 

Oh, he looks like his father alright...but he’s just like his mother. 

Maria may not have the same words, never in the same tone, but her life turned out as if it was that. 

Wives were an inconvenience to many businessmen, and she was no different. She had known that a week after their honeymoon, Howard’s eyes curious and roaming. 

The kind of curious that she had fallen for, and then quickly realized that curiosity was a dangerous thing for him. Was a dangerous thing for her too. 

But she played the role of adoring wife, and sometimes they were together alone and it wasn’t-it wasn’t too bad. He would smile and she would remember the good times with fondness, and then she would bitterly remember that her soulmate thought she wasn’t enough. 

Tony sees her thoughts. Mama has never been particularly good at hiding her feelings from her son. 

After all, he learned all her tells. Has quite a few of them himself. 

-

But soulmates don’t matter, not to him, and not when he has college to go to. Finally escaping from Howard’s thumb, finally on his own. He got an apartment all to himself, he’s going to learn how to cook and not burn shit, and things will be great. 

No time for thinking about soulmates when you’re busy thinking about if you really need to get more than three pans, and maybe you do? Not sure. 

His neighbors are quiet. They don’t really interact much. They saw him move in, blinked, and Tony waved. Nothing else to say. 

He still hasn’t met the guy who lives on his left. Tony’s heard crashes and brief cursing streaks, and maybe one glass that got dropped, but that’s it. All he knows is chaotic sounds and maybe that his name starts with a “J.” 

- 

It’s just the beginning of October when Tony is juggling his groceries with his hands (refusing to make more than one trip) when someone comes pounding into the hallway, and Tony can’t see over the chip bag he has. 

I swear to god, get out of my way, or so help me god I’ll kill you, comes the phrase. 

Tony blinks. 

“Not if I kill you first, you son of a bitch.” 

The guy gasps. 

“Wait, so this isn’t a serious situation where my soulmate is shitty?” 

“You said something shitty first!” 

The guy looks back, and there is a rather murderous looking frat boy out for blood. 

Tony takes one look at the situation, decides that he’s not going to make this guy fend for himself against a rage-filled boy in dock-shoes and too much hair gel, and pulls him into his apartment. 

The boy goes flying onto the couch, Tony spills a bag of apples, and the frat bro is yelling at the door and pounding on it. 

“What did you even do?” 

“I kind of maybe took his bed and threw it out a window because he was being shitty at a party I went to.” 

“On a scale of one to seven, how shitty?” 

“One to seven? Who are you, who the fuck uses that scale?” 

“Me! I use it! Now rate it.” 

“Um, like a six?” 

“Hm, that is pretty bad.” 

There’s a thump at the door. 

Oh, the frat boy is trying to break his door down. 

Tony goes over. 

“You’re opening the door?” 

“Just...have faith in me.” 

“Not to be like that, dude, but I just met you like two minutes ago and even though we’re soulmates that doesn’t mean I just blindly put everything I have into you.” 

Tony grins. That sounded...perfect. 

“Oh believe me sugar, same thing goes for you. But I have knowledge on my side.” 

The door swings open, and in charges the frat boy, seriously not thinking that the door would open. He runs into the couch, flips himself over, and he’s on the ground. 

Tony leans over him. 

“I have a security deposit on this place that I’d rather keep, you know that? I also just bought ice cream, and it’s going to become soup if you keep bothering us. Now go or I’m going to call security.” 

“And what the fuck are they gonna do?” The frat boy spits. He’s trying to get up, but cannot. What a shame. 

Tony leans in closer. 

“I want you to really look at my face. I’m sure you saw it on the cover of Time as part of the article ‘America’s Most Influential Family’. There’s a lot I could do.” 

His eyes widen, and he scrambles out, near-about running into the wall. 

His soulmate breathes out. 

“Oh man, thank you.” 

“No problem. Always using my status to make things go away, it’s fun.” 

“So like...you said you were America’s most influential what, son?” 

“In a sense. Probably not. But sometimes people know me.” 

“Am I supposed to know you?” 

“Only if you really wanna work at Stark Industries and need a good word put in.” 

“Oh, I’m going to the military. Air Force.” 

“They got lucky with a guy as nice as you. I’m sure they’ll be proud of all the frat boys you run from.” 

“I’m Jim,” he says, holding out his hand for a shake. 

“Not calling you that,” Tony says, shaking his hand. “That is too close to an old man, and you look far from an old man.” 

"That supposed to be a compliment?” 

“Well, I should hope so. I don’t flirt with old men, I flirt with attractive people.” 

“You know, you still haven’t told me your name.” 

“Give me a minute.” 

Tony puts his ice cream in the freezer, coming back. 

“My name is Tony. What’s your last name?” 

“Rhodes, are you gonna use it for weird reasons?” 

“Nickname reasons. I’m thinking Rocky Rhodes.” 

“I’ll kill you.” 

“Not if you want to eat at the best restaurant you’ve ever been to.” 

“If you call me Rocky Rhodes, no promises.” 

“Hmph, fine. What about...Rhodey?” 

“I can always change it later.” 

Tony smirks. 

“Hm, maybe I’ll let you. But I think it’s a good nickname.” 

They both are silent for a moment. 

“You have any more ice cream?” Rhodey asks. “I’d, um, I’d like to get to know you. And I’ll pay for ice cream later.” 

Tony should’ve said no. He’s seen all the failure with his parents, he’s heard all the horror stories, read the words on his skin enough times in the mirror to know that everything could mean nothing and that nothing could mean everything. 

But he smiles. 

“I’ll keep a running tab.” 

- 

It doesn’t end up like Howard and Maria, no matter how many times Tony thinks it will, wonders if he acts like it, if it will all descend into madness and he’ll be right. 

Rhodey is patient and he calls Tony out on his bullshit. They both smile at each other over cups of coffee, evening argument forgotten. 

When Rhodey has to go overseas, he always gets ragged on by his peers because he buys the cheesiest souvenirs. He never tells them who it’s for, and it’s not until Tony adds the absolutely terrible rendition of the Statue of Liberty onto his personal key-chain for his car that they connect the dots and stare at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. 

Tony makes him the most decadent of meals when he’s back, giving neck massages and draping blankets that are so soft they don’t feel real over them at night. 

They come together and it’s like the ways that the actors and actresses smile giddily up at their counterpart, how the authors describe two coming together. Except it’s better. 

Because Rhodey leaves the coffee filter in the machine and forgets to take it out, and Tony nearly always remembers to take it out before it’s a day later and the kitchen smells like old coffee. 

It’s the way that Tony is only a control-freak about the thermostat, and keeps it at seventy-five always. 

“You’re such an old man.” 

“You’re just a weird guy who likes it to be sixty-seven! Who does that?” 

Rhodey grins, kissing his man on the forehead. 

“Me. But I’ll keep it seventy-five. For now.” 

Tony settles back into the couch, pushing his legs over Rhodey’s. He smiles up at him, and it’s...it’s the best feeling Rhodey could hope for.