#like even if i did well in it. it would be the embodiment of everything i fear to become. does that make sense

[writerfromshikahr]

I want to state this is not a "hate Neve" piece. I wrote this originally as a bit of a tongue in cheek nod to players (perceived) frustrations about the flirting between Neve and Lucanis if you're romancing him. It was a one off piece originally and then a friend of mine encouraged me to write the whole damn thing. It's silly and probably not the best writing I have ever done, but it's a fun read (oh and long)!

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First Cut - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

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It had been a mistake to stay in the room earlier, to stand there and watch Lucanis and Neve exchange flirtatious banter.

Neve had laughed, bright and melodious, and Lucanis had responded with a smile that seemed to light up the whole damn Lighthouse. Right in front of her. In front of her. The pang in her chest had been immediate and deep, leaving her breathless and struggling to maintain her composure.

Now, as she stood in the quietest corner she could find, away from everyone else, the hurt replayed itself over and over, accompanied by the cruel voice of self-doubt that she couldn’t quiet. What did you think would happen, Rook?…she chided herself. That he’d notice you when someone like Neve exists?

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the familiar burn of embarrassment. Of course, Lucanis liked her. Why wouldn’t he? Neve was stunning, with her sleek, sophisticated appearance and the grace of a refined Minrathous mage. She always had the perfect thing to say, remaining calm under pressure and exuding an effortless charm that captivated everyone. Neve was flawless. Neve was everything a woman should be.

Rook, on the other hand, was… well, she let out a humourless laugh. She was “pleasantly plump,” as one Crow had called her, with thick thighs and a belly she had long since stopped trying to hide. Her Crow leathers had to be adjusted to fit her more comfortably around her hips and legs. Where Neve embodied elegance, Rook was simply Rook. Awkward, self-conscious, and hopelessly bad at saying anything clever, she always seemed to trip over her words or, worse, blurt out something completely foolish at the worst possible moments.

You thought he felt the same way about you, didn’t you? Her heart twisted painfully at the realization. What a cruel joke. The way he had looked at Neve today was proof enough, wasn’t it? She wasn’t his type. The message was received—loud and clear.

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Rook had become a master at avoidance over the past few days, though it was starting to wear her thin. Every time she caught a glimpse of Lucanis, her heart clenched painfully, so she did what she could to keep her distance. She slipped out of rooms when he walked in, buried herself in tasks that required her full attention, and, when it came to conversation, she only offered clipped, polite responses to Neve, refusing to engage in anything more. It hurt to keep her walls up, but it was the only way she could cope.

Instead, she found herself spending more time with Davrin and Assan, grateful for the easy friendship they shared. Davrin, with all his swagger and occasional theatrics, had a way of making her smile even when her heart felt heavy. He was like the big brother she never had, someone who made her feel safe and seen without any of the complications that seemed to swirl around Lucanis. And with the added charm of Assan, Davrin’s adorable toddler griffon companion, there was always something to laugh about.

Today, they’d ventured out to the Arlathan Forest, a welcome reprieve from the Lighthouse and all the tangled emotions that currently lived there. The forest was peaceful, a canopy of golden leaves rustling overhead, and Rook felt some of her tension ease. She and Davrin found a small clearing atop a rocky outcrop, perfect for Assan to practice his flying. The young griffon flapped his wings with eager determination, making little leaps and swoops that brought a genuine smile to Rook’s face.

They settled on the smooth granite, sharing a simple lunch of bread and cheese, and conversation flowed easily between them. Davrin regaled her with tales of growing up in Arlathan, his voice full of life and humour, and she listened, fascinated by his stories. In turn, he asked her questions about the Crows, and she answered as best she could, occasionally making light of some of the darker aspects of her life. They even exchanged stories about their respective fights—the Grey Wardens and their eternal struggle against Archdemons, and the Crows with their endless contracts and rivalries. Despite Davrin’s opinions about her line of work, he respected her. They had built a solid friendship, and she had come to value it deeply.

He could tell she needed this time away, and so he did what he did best: kept her entertained and laughing. Still, even with all the humour and warmth between them, Davrin wasn’t blind. He’d noticed that something seemed off, that Rook was more distracted than usual. And, more curiously, he’d noticed the absence of Lucanis. Usually, the two were practically joined at the hip, their bond undeniable. But now… there was a definite shift, and he wasn’t sure how—or if���he should bring it up. As he watched her thoughtfully, he finally spoke up, trying to sound casual.

“So… you gonna tell me what’s got you all twisted up, or are we just gonna pretend you haven’t been acting like your mind’s somewhere else entirely?”

Rook looked at him, startled by the question, but then she sighed, her shoulders sagging. She had hoped that spending time with Davrin and Assan would make her forget the pain, but there was no escaping how deeply it cut her. “It’s nothing,” she said softly, but even she could hear the lie in her voice.

Davrin didn’t push. He knew her well enough to know when to leave things be. Still, he reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze, his usual cheeky grin softening. “Well, whatever it is, you know I’ve got your back, right?” Assan warbled in agreement, flapping his wings like he was seconding the sentiment.

Rook’s lips twitched into a small smile. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough to have someone who cared, someone who could make the world feel a little bit brighter. Even if she couldn’t outrun her feelings, at least she had friends who made the burden easier to carry.

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Lucanis’s gaze lingered on Rook, his expression dark with confusion and frustration. She had gone out of her way to placing as much distance between them as possible, choosing the spot farthest from him at the table, right between Davrin and Taash. She occasionally spoke, and her lips curved into a soft smile when Davrin leaned in to whisper something that made her laugh. The sound, bright and genuine, only twisted the knife deeper into Lucanis’s chest. She hadn’t even spared him a single glance.

He took a sip of his soup, the taste barely registering, and let out a sigh that was loud enough to draw Lace’s attention as she grabbed seconds and plopped down beside him. “This is one of the best meals you’ve cooked, Lucanis,” she said with a grin. “Seriously, it’s delicious.”

He mustered a small smile at the compliment, but his eyes drifted back to Rook. He missed her terribly—her company, their conversations, and, most of all, the way her laughter used to be directed at him. Now, it was as if he had become invisible. What did I do? he thought, trying to piece together where he’d gone wrong.

Neve, who had also taken a seat nearby, picked up on his brooding mood. She arched an eyebrow and gave him a teasing smile. “Don’t tell me my assassin is feeling broody this evening?” she asked, her tone playful.

Lucanis’s eyes flicked over to her, unfocused. “What?”

Neve rolled her eyes, grabbing a piece of bread and dipping it into her soup. “I said, you seem broody tonight,” she repeated, though she didn’t seem all that concerned about it.

He nodded, distracted, and looked back at Rook, who was still doing her best to ignore him. “Perhaps I am, Neve,” he replied, the words tasting bitter. It was infuriating how Rook refused to acknowledge him as if he’d become a ghost. He had replayed every conversation and every moment from the past few days, trying to figure out when he might have crossed a line, said something careless, or given any reason for her to pull away. Yet he kept coming up empty.

Spite, normally full of commentary and sass, had fallen unusually silent. Then again, Spite tended to grow quieter whenever Neve was around.

Neve leaned closer, trying to pull his attention back to her. “Do you want to catch up this evening?” she asked, eyes sparkling with interest. “I found a book I think will be right up your alley.”

Lucanis had barely registered her words, his mind too full of the ache that was Rook. He blinked at Neve, his expression blank. “A book?” he echoed, his voice distant.

Neve, clearly unimpressed, shook her head. “Yes, Lucanis. I have one for you,” she repeated, with a touch of exasperation.

“Oh,” he said, realizing he’d made her repeat herself. “Sure, I’ll swing by later and get it from you.” His reply sounded mechanical like he was going through the motions. But then, out of nowhere, Rook’s laughter cut through the air, loud and free, a burst of joy that caught everyone’s attention. Even Taash choked on her drink, snorting with amusement.

Lucanis felt his heart sink further. Yeah, he thought miserably. I hate it here. Watching Rook smile at Davrin felt like punishment, and not knowing how to fix things between them was driving him mad. He had no idea how to bridge the growing distance or why he had ended up here in the first place, and that, more than anything, was the most frustrating part.

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Rook’s heart hammered in her chest as she froze in the hallway, seeing Lucanis waiting for her. Every instinct screamed at her to turn around and walk the other way, to avoid whatever painful conversation was about to unfold, but she knew she couldn’t keep running. You can do this, she told herself, her throat tightening. She drew in a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and forced herself to speak.

“Lucanis,” she greeted, her voice carefully cool. “Is there something I can do for you?”

His brow furrowed, confusion and frustration warring on his face. “What is happening, Rook?” he asked, a hint of exasperation leaking through. “Why are you avoiding me?”

She looked away from his gaze, her eyes fixing firmly on the stone floor. If she looked at him—into those deep, dark eyes that always managed to see straight through her—she knew she’d cave. She wasn’t ready for that. For once, she was determined not to fold, to hang onto her anger, even if it pained her. “I’m not avoiding you,” she replied, her tone clipped. “I’ve been busy, you know, saving the world, fighting ancient gods… that kind of thing.”

Lucanis regarded her quietly, the weight of his gaze like a physical thing pressing down on her. “I see, have I said something or done something?”

Rook forced a smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “No, I’m fine,” she said, her voice flat and devoid of the warmth she usually reserved for him. The fine was a lie, but she clung to it desperately. It felt safer than admitting how badly he’d wounded her. And it gave her a semblance of control over her heart, a way to shield herself from the crushing weight of feeling like she wasn’t enough.

Lucanis tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Fine?” he repeated, scepticism heavy in his voice. “Hmm. It doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing.”

He took a step closer, and Rook instinctively backed up, keeping the same distance between them. She wouldn’t let him close, not when her heart was so fragile. “Perhaps you should go pick up that book from Neve,” she shot back, “I’m sure she’ll have your favourite coffee brewed and waiting.”

Lucanis’s eyes widened a fraction, the hurt flashing across his features unmistakable. Before he could respond, she brushed past him, retreating into her room and closing the door behind her. She leaned against it, breathing hard, fighting the urge to cry.

In the hallway, Lucanis stood in stunned silence, the shadows around him deepening as he tried to piece together what had just happened. His head tilted slightly, confusion etched on his face. Was this about Neve? The question churned in his mind, sending him spiralling back through every conversation, every interaction with Neve, searching for any clue. Why would Rook mention her?

It was then that Spite finally spoke up, his voice echoing in the corners of Lucanis’s mind. “Tastes like… envy,” the demon mused, each word slow and almost thoughtful. “Yes. Bitter. Sharp.”

Lucanis’s eyes widened in sudden realization. Envy. Rook was jealous? His heart lurched at the thought, a mix of confusion, guilt, and something else he couldn’t quite name. Jealous of what? That was the bigger question, but he had a place to start, which was more than he had moments before.

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Lucanis listened to Neve, his gaze thoughtful as he leaned back into the couch, sipping his coffee. The cozy yet refined atmosphere of her room couldn’t fully soothe his restless mind. "Jealous? Of me? Odd," Neve mused, sounding genuinely perplexed. "We aren't exactly bosom buddies, but we've always had a good working relationship. She's a capable mage, highly recommended if you listen to House de Riva. And she’s... well, sweet. Maybe a little too sweet at times. The world can be harsh, and people like Rook don't always make it out in one piece."

Lucanis tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Sweet? Yes, she is,” he agreed, but there was more to it. “there’s strength in her, too. The kind that can get us through this, no matter how bad things get.” He paused, searching Neve’s eyes. “You know why Viago sent her out of Antiva, right?”

Neve nodded, her brow knitting together slightly. “I got the gist from him. He seemed… displeased.”

Lucanis’s smile widened a fraction. “Viago is always displeased,” he said with a hint of humour, “but he does have a soft spot for Rook, even if he won’t admit it. She climbed the ranks fast. Full membership with the Crows at a young age. Orphaned and taken in by House de Riva when she was around eight. But what got her exiled was taking initiative where she shouldn’t have.” He swirled his coffee, his eyes reflecting a complicated mix of pride and sadness. “She has heart—a soft one, maybe—but she freed a group of prisoners and slaves one night, prisoners the Antaam would’ve had executed. Varric was among them. You know that part.”

Neve leaned forward, her interest piqued. “Yes, but?”

“But,” Lucanis continued, “her actions derailed a much larger operation. She saved lives, but it cost the Crows.. That’s what led to her downfall.” He stared into his coffee, the steam curling up like ghostly whispers. “She’s got a good heart.”

Neve considered his words, sitting beside him and absorbing the weight of what he’d said. “A good heart that ultimately got her kicked out of her city,” she pointed out, “But that doesn’t explain why she’s jealous of me.”

Lucanis gave her a wry smile, one brow lifting slightly. “I figured the renowned Minrathous detective might have some insight to bestow upon me.”

Neve laughed, the sound warm and clear. “Oh, sure. Because I’m great with people, right?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Tell you what: maybe I’ll have a word with Davrin. They’re close. Leave it with me, and I’ll get back to you.”

Lucanis's smile softened, but his heart felt heavy with uncertainty. "I appreciate it," he said, though the thought of Rook feeling hurt, even if it was out of jealousy, left an ache in his chest that he couldn't quite shake.

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“Jealous?” Davrin echoed, his eyebrows rising with genuine surprise. “Of you? Hmm... nope. She hasn’t said anything to me, but she has been distracted. Yeah, that’s the right word.” He set down his latest whittling project, a small wooden figure of what looked like a griffon, and studied Neve with his usual thoughtful expression. “But she hasn’t said anything to you?”

Neve shook her head. “Nothing, I’m afraid.”

Davrin let out a sigh, leaning back. “Look, Rook is a good person, but even I know some people need space from time to time. I’m not going to pressure her into telling me anything she doesn’t want to share. But...” he trailed off, tapping his chin, “she and Lucanis used to be practically joined at the hip. Wherever he was, she’d be right there. If you ask me, she’s sweet on him, and it’s not just that whole Crow loyalty thing.”

Neve’s eyes widened slightly. “She has a crush?”

Davrin shook his head with a small smile. “No, not a crush. She likes him. I can see it in the way she is around him, and I know her pretty well.”

Neve frowned, her mind racing. “So... what do I have to do with all of this? Seems a little strange that I’d be involved.”

Davrin tilted his head, smirking a little. “Well, who told you she was jealous?”

“Lucanis,” Neve replied, sounding almost exasperated.

“But who told him?” Davrin shot back, a knowing grin on his face.

Neve paused, then rolled her eyes. “Spite told him,” she admitted with a touch of reluctance.

Davrin’s laughter burst out, loud and unapologetic. “Oh, so we’re taking the word of a demon now?” He shook his head, clearly entertained. “This is hilarious.”

Neve threw her hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, Lucanis takes him seriously! And to be fair, that demon has never led us astray.” Her lips twitched with a hint of amusement despite herself.

Davrin exhaled, the humour fading to something more contemplative. “All right, leave it with me. Rook and I are heading out to Lavendel together soon. I’ll have a chat with her, and see if I can make sense of this mess.”

Neve nodded, a small smile of relief crossing her face. “Thanks, Davrin. Just... tread carefully, okay? Whatever’s going on, it matters a lot to her.”

Davrin gave her a mock salute. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” But as he picked up his whittling project again, he couldn’t help but wonder if his friend was ready to admit the truth to herself.

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"What the fuck, Davrin? Who told you that?!"

Davrin blinked in surprise at Rook's outburst. "Who told you I was jealous of Neve?!"

"Hey, I’m just asking for interested parties. They figured I’d know what’s up with my friend," he replied, holding his hands up defensively.

Rook turned away from him, her fists clenched at her sides. She was too angry to speak—not at Davrin, no. Davrin could annoy her, sure, but Lucanis? He could make her seethe. And knowing that this line of questioning was coming from Neve of all people made her want to throw herself straight into the Fade, never to return.

"Rook," Davrin said quietly, his tone unusually gentle, "I promise, I won’t breathe a word if you tell me what’s bothering you. Warden’s honor."

Rook glanced at him, catching the earnestness in his expression. For once, he wasn’t cracking a joke to lighten the mood. She let out a sharp exhale and looked away again, debating whether to open up. Finally, she gave in.

“I swear to the Maker, if you report back to them, I’ll take out a contract on you,” she grumbled before the words burst out of her. “It’s the fucking flirting! Neve and Lucanis flirt all the fucking time, and I’M RIGHT FUCKING THERE! They just flirt like I’m invisible. I—well…” She hesitated, then plunged ahead. “I like him, and he never flirts with me. Never mentions anything about buying me something at the markets, or, ‘Hey, Rook, here’s a flower I picked for you,’ or anything like that. Nothing! I get nothing. It’s infuriating. What is wrong with me? Well, I know what’s wrong with me. Look at me. Look at this!”

She grabbed her thigh angrily, gesturing in frustration.

Davrin didn’t interrupt. He just listened, his expression calm and steady, letting her vent it all out.

“She’s perfect,” Rook continued, her voice shaking with anger. “Perfect hair, perfect outfits, perfect everything. And then there’s me—always saying the wrong thing, always crumpled. And he’s all, ‘Wow, Neve, great shot,’ while I’ve just literally slaughtered ten thousand darkspawn and not once does that man say anything.”

Davrin waited a beat to make sure she was finished before speaking. “I see. Well, thank you for finally telling me. I feel like we’re making progress here.”

Rook shot him a sharp look, her frustration now turning toward him.

“So, you like Lucanis,” Davrin said with a knowing smile. “I thought as much. I mean, it was obvious to me—everyone else seems to be walking around with blinders on.”

Rook groaned, dramatically flopping her head into her hands. “Don’t tell me that, Dav. It’s not making me feel any better. I already feel like the biggest idiot alive. I guess Viago was right.”

Davrin slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in, his tone soft but firm. “That’s my friend you’re talking about, and I don’t take kindly to people putting her down. Question is, where do you go from here?”

Rook let out a long, exhausted sigh. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m so angry at him right now. And unfairly pissed off at Neve. But I can’t forgive him yet. I’m far too in my ‘petty era’ right now.”

“I can tell, Rook,” Davrin began, his voice steady but not unkind. “Thing is, he doesn’t know what he’s done. Not sure how the man is supposed to make amends if he isn’t told.”

Rook stared off into the small village that Davrin and her had spent the last two days protecting from the Blight, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. “How does he not know? The man is a walking romance novel with her! Why doesn’t he do that with me?” She paused, her voice dropping into something quieter. “I know I’m not like her… I get that…”

Davrin cut her off before she could spiral any further. “For the love of the Maker, Rook, you’re gorgeous. Why do you keep comparing yourself to her? Sure, you’re nothing like Neve, but you’re you, and that ain’t bad.”

Rook gave him a deadpan stare, one eyebrow arching. “Really? Now you’re hitting on me?”

“Fuck no,” Davrin shot back with mock indignation. “I know who your boyfriend is... and he terrifies me.”

Rook snorted, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “He’s not my boyfriend. I have no idea what we are. At the moment, he just annoys me.” She let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping. “I’m going to have to talk to him, aren’t I?”

There was a note of defeat in her voice, like she was resigning herself to some inevitable punishment.

“Fuck… why do I have to be the one to do it? I want him to apologize. I want him to beg for forgiveness.” She groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “Wow, I really am being petty.”

Davrin grinned, his expression both amused and supportive. “Yes, but it suits you.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you want me to say something to him? Informing him of his gross oversight of sneaking around trying to find out what’s wrong with you and then maybe steer him toward an ‘ah-ha’ moment?”

“You’d do that for me?” she asked quietly, her voice softer now, vulnerable.

“Of course,” Davrin said with a mock-serious nod. “Killing darkspawn, being a baby daddy to Assan, and sorting out budding romances at the Lighthouse? Those are my specialties.”

Rook rolled her eyes and playfully swatted his arm. “Dumbass.”

Davrin grinned, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly charming way. “Maybe so,” he said, leaning back with exaggerated confidence, “but I’m your dumbass. And where would you be without me?”

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Lucanis had been quiet all day. Davrin knew he was a man of few words, but today’s outing with him and Lace had been decidedly less chatty than normal. Now, they sat around a tavern table, finally letting some warmth soak into their bones. The Lighthouse’s perpetual twilight made it easy to forget the biting cold of Thedas, but the roaring fire beside them was a rare luxury this evening.

Davrin watched Lucanis as he stared into his coffee mug, the steam curling up like ghosts between his hands. Lace was busy chatting with the patrons at a nearby table, her laughter carrying faintly over the hum of conversation.

“So, Lucanis,” Davrin said casually, breaking the silence. “You’ve been a little quiet today. Anything amiss?”

Lucanis looked up, his dark eyes sharp as they met Warden's. “I’m not in the mood.” His tone was flat, cold.

For a moment, silence hung between them, but Davrin wasn’t one to back down so easily. He leaned back in his chair, watching Lucanis carefully. “I see that,” he said finally. “Wondering if I can help you out with that?”

Lucanis sipped his coffee, his gaze distant, and he could tell he was mulling something over. “You know Rook well,” the assassin said after a long pause. “Probably better than I.”

Davrin shifted in his chair, not entirely sure where this was going. He prayed to the Maker it didn’t involve knives. “Ahhh, yes,” he replied cautiously. “Though I’d say you know our fearless leader pretty well too.”

“I’m not so sure of that.” Lucanis’s words were quiet but firm, his eyes flicking back to him for a moment before returning to his coffee cup.

Davrin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m guessing you’re looking for answers,” he said lightly, nodding toward the mug. “Doubtful you’ll find them in there, my friend.”

A faint, almost reluctant smile tugged at Lucanis’s lips. “Perhaps not,” he admitted. “But coffee is good for reflection.” He paused, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him visibly. “I’ve done something. I know I have. But she won’t tell me what it is, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Well, I know what you’ve done.”

Davrin smiled slyly, taking a sip of his beer like he wasn’t about to drop a bombshell. “It’s your lucky day, Crow.”

Lucanis stared at him, his mouth slightly agape. “You know?”

The Warden nodded, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Sure do. And I can’t say it’s an easy fix—for you, at least. But,” he added, setting his mug down with a heavy clink, “if you applied as much effort into correcting your mistake as you do into flirting with a certain detective, you might just win her heart back.”

Davrin punctuated his sentence with a deep, exaggerated gulp of his drink, clearly pleased with himself.

Lucanis just looked at him, his face blank, and said nothing for the longest while. The lively chatter and laughter of the tavern seemed to fill the silence as Davrin waited, unsure if he had heard him.

“Flirting?” Lucanis repeated, his tone a mix of disbelief and offense. “With Neve? Flirting, as in me being suggestive with Neve?”

Davrin smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you need to say it a third time, Crow? Whatever way you cut it, it still sounds a bit... shit.”

Lucanis blinked, his mouth opening slightly as if to argue, but Davrin pressed on, clearly enjoying himself.

“I guess Rook just got fed up with hearing about you wanting to buy Neve fresh fish and flowers at the market.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Oh, and I think she said—” Davrin cleared his throat for dramatic effect—“and I quote: ‘And he’s all, “Wow, Neve, great shot,” while I’ve just literally slaughtered ten thousand darkspawn, and not once does that man say anything.’”

He leaned back with a satisfied grin, taking another sip of his beer. “Yeah, I think that about covers the gist of what she vented to me for a solid 45 minutes.”

“Mierda,” Lucanis muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

Davrin waved at the serving girl over with a grin. “Yes, you’re screwed, Lucanis,” he said cheerfully. “But, as I mentioned, you can make this better… I think.” He ordered another beer for himself and a fresh coffee for his brooding friend.

Lucanis’s brow furrowed, his voice low and resigned. “What else did she say? I need to know just how much of a gilipollas I’ve been.”

Davrin laughed, the sound loud enough to turn a few heads nearby. “I’m assuming that’s something bad—and if it is, you deserve it.” He leaned back, his grin widening. “Let’s see… what else did she say? Oh, right!”

Davrin sat forward, lowering his voice to mimic Rook’s, exaggerating her frustration: ‘Nothing! I get nothing. It’s infuriating. What is wrong with me? Neve and Lucanis flirt all the fucking time, and I’M RIGHT FUCKING THERE! They just flirt like I’m invisible.’ He leaned back with a satisfied smirk. “And, of course, more liberal usage of the word ‘fuck.’”

“I don’t know what to say,” Lucanis muttered, his voice low. He slumped back in his chair, looking more defeated than Davrin had ever seen him. “I’m not sure what I’m meant to say. I don’t mean anything by it—the flirting. I never thought…”

“No, you didn’t,” Davrin cut in sharply, holding up a hand to stop him. “Why would you? You ask her for advice on gifts for Neve, buy her nothing, and expect everything to be fine?” He shook his head, leaning forward. “Shit, Lucanis, you could pick Rook a flower off a random bush in Arlathan, and she’d be insufferably happy for days. I do it all the time for her, and I don’t even want to fuck her.”

Lucanis’s brow furrowed deeper, but he didn’t interrupt.

Davrin leaned back with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bare minimum, my friend. Bare. Minimum. And you’ve somehow managed to fall below that. Impressive, really.”

He punctuated his words with a long swig of his beer, shaking his head as he set the mug down.

“So, this is how you’re going to fix this,” Davrin began, pointing a finger at Lucanis for emphasis. “After we’re done at this outpost, we’re heading home, and you are going to beg for some kind of forgiveness. Kneel if you have to. Hell, throw in a prayer to the Maker while you’re at it and hope that gorgeous woman decides to give you another chance.”

Lucanis stared at him, his mouth opening slightly, but Davrin didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And keep your damn mouth shut around Neve,” Davrin continued, leaning forward for extra emphasis. “I get it—Neve is damn fine to look at. But those thoughts? Inside thoughts, not outside thoughts, Lucanis. And for the love of everything holy, make sure your demon is on board with this too.”

Lucanis fiddle with the handle on his cup, guilt practically radiating off him, but Davrin wasn’t done.

“She likes you, I know she does. But she’s hurt, and a woman scorned is a terrifying force of nature.”

Davrin sat back, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “So what’s the plan, Crow?”

“I have no fucking idea,” Lucanis muttered, running a hand down his face. “I’ll think of something. I’ll fix this.”

He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than Davrin.

“It better be good,” Davrin said pointedly, leaning back in his chair. “Because she is pissed, and I don’t blame her. And for the love of the Maker, can you tell her that you like her? It’s clear as day to me, but she has no idea. She thinks you don’t even see her.”

Lucanis opened his mouth to retort, but Davrin barreled on.

“This whole ‘I’m possessed by a demon and I can’t love anyone’ trope is old, Lucanis. If you can charm Neve halfway around Minrathous, you can bloody well lavish some of that charm on Rook.”

“I’ll fix it,” Lucanis said firmly, though the conviction in his voice wavered just slightly. “And… thank you, for letting me know.”

Davrin gave him a hearty pat on the back, his grin equal parts teasing and supportive. “I don’t envy you, Lucanis. I thought fighting the ancient Gods was going to be tough, but this? Seems like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Lucanis let out a quiet breath, half a smile tugging at his lips. He knew Davrin was right.

----------------------------------------------------------

He found her up on the balcony, as he expected. Rook often went there to read when she needed space from everyone else. Davrin slid onto the bench beside her, and they sat in comfortable silence, the quiet of the moment broken only by the rustle of pages and the distant sounds of the Lighthouse.

Assan nuzzled his head against Rook’s arm, demanding pats, which she happily obliged, scratching behind the young griffon’s ears.

“It’s good to have you back,” she said finally, her voice soft but genuine. “I missed you. Did it go well?”

Davrin smiled, leaning back. “Of course it did. Harding is a terrible cook, though... but apart from that, we got the job done.”

Rook huffed a laugh, but before she could reply, Davrin added, almost too casually, “Oh, and I spoke to the Crow.”

Rook froze for a moment, her smile faltering. “Oh, Maker, how did that go?” She waved a hand before he could answer. “You know what? Don’t tell me. I’ve been perfectly happy here without him.”

Davrin turned his head, giving her a pointed side-eye. “Sure, sure... you’ve been perfectly happy.”

Rook glared at him over the top of her book, but he wasn’t done.

“He knows what he’s done wrong now,” Davrin continued with a shrug, “and is, and I quote, ‘formulating a plan,’ whatever the fuck that means.”

“A plan?” Rook repeated, her gaze drifting off into the endless expanse of the Fade sky. She hesitated, her fingers absently scratching Assan’s feathers as she gathered her thoughts. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want complete honesty. Even if it’s not what I want to hear.”

Davrin tilted his head, his smile softening. “Always.”

Rook turned to him, her voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “Does the man even remotely like me?”

Davrin’s grin widened as he leaned back against the railing, taking a moment before answering. “Rook,” he said slowly, “I watched the blood drain out of the his face when I laid it all out on the table for him. I have never seen such a sorry sight.” He paused, his tone turning more sincere. “If that’s any indication of what he’s feeling, I think he’s sweet on you.”

Rook’s lips pressed into a thin line, her expression unreadable.

“He’s clueless,” Davrin added with a shrug. “I doubt he’s ever had a relationship before. Doesn’t excuse what he did, but I know he’ll fix it—or at least try to.”

Rook leaned her head on his shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why is life so hard? Everything feels so complicated, and I’m so tired. I know you said I shouldn’t compare myself to anyone, but… I don’t always feel strong, you know?” She paused, her fingers idly stroking Assan’s feathers. “Have I blown this all out of proportion? I think… I think I need to speak to Neve. She’s lovely—I know she is.”

Davrin stayed quiet for a long moment, his usual humor replaced by a thoughtful stillness.

“I think, sometimes, Rook,” he said softly, “you don’t see yourself the way the rest of us see you. At the heart of it all, you’re a good person. And yes, you’re beautiful too.”

Rook shifted slightly, about to protest, but Davrin pressed on.

“People come in all shapes and sizes. That doesn’t make anyone worth less than the next person. Maybe instead of comparing yourself to what you’re not, you should take a hard look at all the amazing things you are. All the shit you’ve accomplished under impossible odds. Hell, you’ve even put Solas in his place a few times—and that guy’s a dick.”

“That’s a weird way to ask me out on a date, Dav,” Rook said with a small smile, her eyes glinting with playful mischief.

Davrin laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the balcony. “You wish, de Riva. You and me would never work out.” He leaned back, grinning. “Besides, I come with a kid in tow—parenthood is tough.”

Rook chuckled, scratching Assan under the chin as the griffon chirped contentedly.

“Nah,” Davrin continued, “I think you’re more suited to the stabbity-stab life of Crow intrigue. I’m just a simple man, a Grey Warden with modest needs. You’d outlive me, no doubt, and I can’t have you being all mopey about the charming and heroic warrior you once knew.”

----------------------------------------------------------

She heard the faint rustle of a note slipping under her door just as she was drifting off to sleep. For a moment, she considered leaving it there until morning, her exhaustion tugging at her. But curiosity got the better of her.

Pulling the blanket tightly around her shoulders, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, shivering as her feet touched the cold floor. With a quiet sigh, she padded across the room, picked up the envelope, and sank into the worn couch by the window.

The candlelight flickered softly, casting long shadows as she slid her finger under the seal. The handwriting inside was instantly familiar, and her breath caught as she unfolded the letter.

-----

Rook,

I have thought about what to write in this letter to you for days as we made our way back home. I am usually good at making plans and coming up with solutions to any problem. Unfortunately, in this case, I am the problem, and I don’t know how to fix the hurt I’ve caused you.

That being said, I will try to make this right. If you decide not to accept my apology, I will understand. But if you can find it in your heart to let me make this up to you, I would be grateful.

Meet me in Treviso tomorrow evening at my favourite café—you know the one. We went there not long after I joined you at the Lighthouse.

I will wait for you.

—Lucanis

-----

Rook sank back into her couch, the letter still clutched against her chest. Stupid Antivan man, she thought, her lips twitching into a faint smile despite herself.

She couldn’t deny it—no matter how frustrated she was, no matter how much she wanted to stay angry—she was willing to hear him out.

----------------------------------------------------------

There was a knock at the door.

“Can I come in, Rook?” Neve’s voice was soft but firm.

From inside, she heard a flurry of shuffling, a thud, and several muffled expletives. Finally, the door creaked open.

“Yes, come in,” Rook said, rubbing her toe with a wince. “I’m just getting ready to…”

Neve smiled knowingly. “Meet Lucanis in Treviso. I know.”

Rook sighed, slumping back slightly. “Of course you know. He probably told you.”

She moved to the couch, sitting down to pull on her boots, her movements stiff with nervous energy. Neve stepped inside, her gaze drifting to the window where the shimmering fish swam lazily outside.

“You really do have the best room at the Lighthouse,” Neve remarked, her voice distant. “No wisps, just the fish.” She turned back to Rook, her expression softening. “No, he didn’t tell me. Davrin did.”

Rook paused, her hands hovering over her laces.

“I wanted to stop by and tell you to enjoy yourself,” Neve continued. “If I know Lucanis, he’ll have a wonderful evening planned for you.” She hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, her tone quieter but no less sincere. “And I also wanted to tell you... I envy you.”

Rook’s head snapped up in surprise. “Envy me?”

Neve gave a small, bittersweet smile. “He’s a good man, apart from the whole abomination thing he’s got going on.” Her smile widened slightly, a hint of humor in her voice. “I’ll admit, I entertained the idea of him and me once. But it was clear his heart had already chosen another.”

Rook opened her mouth to respond, but Neve cut her off gently.

“Like all men, he’s a bit of an idiot, and he’s made mistakes,” Neve said, her gaze steady. “But if you let him, he’ll spend the rest of his life making it up to you.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Rook admitted, her voice quieter now. “I do feel stupid for being unkind to you. I’m sorry about that.”

Neve waved the apology away with a small smile. “No need for deep and meaningfuls, Rook. We’re both busy women with jobs to do. But tonight?” She stepped closer, her expression softening. “You have a date with a Crow.”

Rook shifted awkwardly, Neve’s eyes scanning her as if assessing her readiness. “I know,” Rook said, glancing down at herself. “I’m in my leathers. I probably should have dressed—”

Neve cut her off with a laugh. “I saw Lucanis leave for the Eluvian. He was dressed in his too. Are you Crows ever not on the clock?”

Rook chuckled despite herself. “You’ve met my boss, right? Viago?”

Neve grinned. “Point taken.” She reached for the door, her hand hovering for a moment before turning back. “Anyway, enjoy your evening. I hope it’s everything you need and want.”

----------------------------------------------------------

Davrin had insisted on accompanying her through the Eluvian to Treviso, despite her protests.

“You didn’t need to escort me, Dav,” Rook said as they stepped out into the bustling city. She smoothed down her cloak, her tone exasperated but affectionate. “I’m more than capable of navigating a city I’ve lived in most of my life.”

“Yeah, I know,” Davrin replied with a casual shrug. “But I did need to come here. Lucanis has me set up with his blacksmith. And, well…” He paused, glancing sideways at her. “I wanted to make sure you got here okay. If things go south, you know I’m around.”

Rook nudged him with her elbow, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve never had a brother, but you are bordering on the whole ‘protective big brother’ vibes right now. And I have to say, it suits you.”

Davrin smiled shyly, looking away as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know you’re pissed at Dellamorte,” he said softly. “I get it. But let him speak. Give him a chance, Rook.”

She sighed, her gaze dropping for a moment. “I’m not that angry anymore. I spoke to Neve before heading here—she came to my room.”

Davrin raised an eyebrow, his expression suddenly amused. “Please tell me she left said room. I know what you Crows are like,” he added with a chuckle.

Rook rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “She’s very much alive, thank you. And she said something… odd. Something I wasn’t expecting.”

“Oh?” Davrin leaned in, curious.

“She said she was envious of me,” Rook admitted, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Davrin stopped in his tracks, raising both eyebrows now. “Well, well,” he said with exaggerated flair. “It seems we’ve come full circle. Now she’s jealous of you! I believe I’m experiencing whiplash.”

As they walked along the bustling streets of her hometown, Rook couldn’t ignore the faint queasiness in her stomach. She wasn’t angry anymore—not really. More… disgruntled. But there was no venom behind the feeling now. Lucanis had made a mistake, and, if she was being honest with herself, she’d probably blown it out of proportion—a tendency she sometimes leaned into more than she should.

At least she’d managed to entertain everyone at the Lighthouse with the intrigue and drama.

“Ahhh, I love it here,” Davrin mused, breaking her train of thought. His eyes roamed the lively street, the laughter and chatter of the city swirling around them. “Great atmosphere, excellent food, and some rather beautiful distractions for the taking.”

Rook rolled her eyes, her nerves briefly forgotten as she fought back a smirk.

“And it seems,” Davrin added with a dramatic flourish as they neared the café, “I have delivered you to your destination, my Queen.” He swept into an exaggerated bow, his grin practically splitting his face.

“Maker, you’re an idiot,” Rook said, shaking her head with a smile. “But I love you despite it.”

Davrin grinned and placed both hands firmly on her shoulders, leaning in just slightly. “You’ve got this, Rook. Go forth and get your man and—let him speak. He can actually be pretty good at it, you know, when he’s not saying all the wrong things.”

Rook took a deep breath, her nerves settling just enough to nod. “Wish me luck?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Davrin shook his head, his grin softening into something more earnest. “Nah, you don’t need it. You’ve got this, girl. No luck required.”

He stepped ahead and held the door open for her. She squared her shoulders and walked through, the warm hum of the café greeting her as she crossed the threshold.

Davrin lingered outside for a moment, watching her disappear inside. He knew, deep down, it would all be okay. But still, a small pang of worry tugged at him—for his friend, for her heart, and for the man she was about to face.

----------------------------------------------------------

The café was empty.

Anxiety, her old and unwelcome friend, crept up her spine as she glanced around the dimly lit space. Had she gotten the wrong day? The wrong time? Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as she dug into her bag, pulling out the note Lucanis had sent. She unfolded it with shaky fingers, scanning the words again, double-checking that she hadn’t misread anything.

No. She was in the right place.

But as her eyes flicked to the counter, the absence of anyone behind it made her chest tighten further. The café felt eerily quiet, the usual hum of conversation replaced by the soft ticking of a clock.

Now she felt like the idiot. Where was he? And why was she standing awkwardly in an empty coffee shop at eight o’clock at night?

As a Crow, this screamed assassination attempt, and the thought made her pulse quicken. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but her hand instinctively drifted to the hilt of the blade hidden beneath her cloak.

Not that she’d ever killed anyone with a dirk before—magic was her usual go-to—but the weight of the blade under her fingers offered some small comfort. Her unease grew as she wandered further into the café, cautiously checking dark corners and peeking around the pillars.

She moved closer to the counter, her nerves prickling with every step, when suddenly, Lucanis popped up from behind it.

“Maker’s breath!” Rook yelped, jumping back, her heart hammering as she glared at him.

Lucanis stood there, his dark eyes warm as they met hers, and a small, gorgeous smile spread across his lips—the one that always managed to disarm her.

“Rook,” he said softly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. “You came.”

“Why were you hiding behind the counter?!” Rook exclaimed, her voice sharp with surprise.

Lucanis straightened, brushing imaginary dust from his leathers. “I was looking for sugar,” he said matter-of-factly. “I know you like your coffee sweet and hot. Good news: I found it.”

He turned his attention to the coffee pot, busying himself with making their drinks as if nothing about this was out of the ordinary.

Rook crossed her arms, glancing around the empty café. “And you now own this place?” she asked, her tone tinged with amusement.

Lucanis smirked, glancing at her over his shoulder. “I asked the owner for a favor and promised to pay him back with a free contract.”

Rook blinked in surprise before letting out a laugh. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not,” she said, shaking her head. “You never work for free.”

“Sometimes I do,” Lucanis said with a small smile, handing her the steaming cup. “Let’s sit… the table over there.”

He gestured toward a cozy corner, and Rook’s gaze followed. The table had been set perfectly, a small display of her favorite desserts arranged neatly on a plate, waiting for her.

Her lips twitched in a faint smile as she followed him. They settled into their chairs, and for a moment, a comfortable silence fell between them as they both enjoyed the first few sips of their drinks.

Lucanis leaned back, cradling his cup in his hands. “Good coffee...And yours?”

Rook took another sip, savoring the warmth and sweetness. It was perfect—just the way she liked it. “You know it’s good,” she replied, glancing at him over the rim of her cup. “If there’s one thing you never fail at, it’s making it exactly the way I like it.”

A satisfied smile spread across his face, lighting his dark eyes.

Setting her cup down, Rook slipped off her gloves and laid them neatly on the table, the nervous energy in her hands too much to contain. Lucanis noticed, of course—he always did. He knew her tells. Whenever she was anxious, she’d fidget, her fingers tracing the stitching of her coat over and over again or right now, fiddling with her gloves,

“Rook…” he began, his voice soft, testing the waters, “I’m sorry—” , but Rook cut him off.

“I know I’m an idiot,” she blurted, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I should have just told you, and instead it became this whole thing involving everyone, and I didn’t mean for it to get so... big. It was stupid of me.”

Lucanis watched her for a long moment, his gaze steady and unreadable. Then, without a word, he placed his hand gently over hers.

“Rook,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what? I’m not doing anything,” she replied, immediately defensive. She picked up her cup again, taking a long sip—anything to avoid his gaze.

“Blaming yourself. Apologising for things you don’t need to apologise for,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles. “I am the one to blame for your worries. I was the one who hurt you.”

“Yes, but you didn’t know,” Rook said quickly, her words tumbling out before she could think better of them. “And if I hadn’t been so damn stubborn—or dare I say petulant—I could have just told you. But I felt… well, I did feel stupid.”

Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, her voice softening as she admitted, “You were an arse though.”

A faint smile flickered across his face, but he stayed quiet, waiting.

“Why did you do it?” she asked, her eyes meeting his briefly before darting away. “It’s okay if you want to—”

She stopped herself mid-sentence, before her mouth could betray her further, she grabbed one of the neatly arranged cakes from the plate and shoved it into her mouth.

It worked—a bit too well. She sat frozen for a moment, cheeks puffed with cake, as the realisation of what she’d just done hit her. Across the table, Lucanis raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching as he tried not to laugh.

It took forever to get through the sugary treat—she’d completely forgotten how chewy they were. Looking effortlessly graceful with a mouthful of cake was not the impression she’d been going for.

Lucanis, ever observant, seized the opportunity to speak before she could finish. It might be the only way to get a word in.

“Yes,” he began, his tone quiet but deliberate. “I fully accept your blunt observation of myself.”

Rook raised an eyebrow at him, still chewing, but didn’t interrupt.

“Why I did it?” Lucanis continued, his gaze dropping briefly to the table. “It’s… was easy to flirt with Neve. A distraction from what’s in my mind, who shares my body, and everything else—fighting Gods, dealing with the Blight…” He paused, his voice softening. “But, also, it means nothing. And when it means nothing, there’s no possibility of consequences.”

“Consequences?” she managed, still chewing, her words slightly muffled.

“Yes,” Lucanis replied, his voice steady but quieter now. “If I don’t say those things to you, it’s not because I don’t notice you, enjoy your company, or desire someone else. It’s quite the opposite.”

Rook froze mid-chew, her eyes widening slightly as she watched him, his gaze fixed firmly on her.

“But how would you know this?” he continued, his tone filled with a rare vulnerability. “I’ve never told you. And I have never reciprocated any of the affection you have so generously given me.”

“But you said consequences, and I’m still not following,” Rook said, finally finishing her cake.

Lucanis sighed, frustration flickering across his face. Maker, he wished he were better with words—like his cousin Illario. “Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck I’m trying to say right now.” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away before meeting her eyes again.

“I’m not good at this, Rook,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “But I struggle with you because… because you mean something to me. You’re not just a distraction. You’re something that has—” He hesitated, the next word slipping out before he could stop it. “...weight.”

He saw her gaze drop instantly to her coffee, her expression unreadable.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Lucanis’s stomach dropped. Why the fuck did you say that? Davrin had specifically told him not to mention the word weight.

“Yes, I’m aware I have ‘weight,’” she replied, her tone dry as she raised an eyebrow at him.

Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, gesturing to the plate. “Thank you for highlighting that right after watching me devour at least three of these cakes.”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a mock-serious expression. “And for the record, they were delicious, and I have zero regrets eating them.”

“What I meant is… you’re special to me,” Lucanis said, his voice quieter now, his dark eyes meeting hers. “To Spite, as well. And that’s dangerous to admit. It’s information that could be used against me—or you. And Maker knows Viago will not be pleased.”

He paused, frustration clear on his face. “I never flirted with you because… because I care for you. More than a friend.” His voice softened, the words weighted with sincerity. “Hopefully, I get to be more. But I’m the most foolish of men when it comes to matters of the heart. I’m not good at… any of this.”

Rook’s gaze shifted, taking in the café around her. The warm, romantic glow of the lights, the beautifully laid-out table, the intimacy of the setting—it all seemed so deliberate, so unlike the Lucanis she thought she knew.

Her eyes landed back on him, and she arched an eyebrow. “You’re not good at being romantic? Or apologies? Because, by the way, you still haven’t said sorry.”

“Despite my Antivan heritage, we aren’t all blessed with my cousin’s gift for romance,” Lucanis said with a wry smile. “But I’ll try—for you.”

He stood, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape against the floor, and stepped around the table.

“And this,” he continued, his voice dropping to something softer, almost reverent, “is where I kneel at your feet and beg for your forgiveness.”

Before Rook could react, he sank to one knee before her, taking her hand gently in his. His eyes lifted to meet hers, his expression utterly sincere.

“I am sorry,” he began, his voice steady but weighted with emotion. “For any hurt I caused you. I am sorry for my misplaced charm. I am sorry for letting you think you are anything less than breathtaking to me.”

Her breath caught, the words hitting her like a wave.

“I am sorry you ever felt you were not enough,” he went on, his thumb brushing softly against her knuckles, “when you are—more than enough in every way a woman can be. I am sorry. Truly sorry.”

He paused, his voice softening even further as he added, “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I swear to you—you will never doubt my affection for you for as long as I breathe.”

Rook sat in silence, her gaze fixed on the man kneeling before her. She turned her hand slightly in his, lacing her fingers through his as she searched for the right words.

“How am I supposed to stay angry at you now?” she said finally, her voice soft but tinged with exasperation. “The cakes, the candlelight, and that—” she gestured toward him with her free hand—“what you just said… Maker’s breath, you’re impossible.”

Lucanis’s lips curved into a hesitant smile, hope flickering in his eyes.

She sighed, shaking her head slightly. “And… I forgive you,” she added, her voice steady now, but her cheeks flushed.

“But I swear,” Rook continued, her eyes narrowing slightly, “if you ever make me feel that way again, I’ll take a contract out on you. Better than that—” she leaned forward, her tone dropping for emphasis—“I’ll kill you myself.”

Lucanis tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he rose to his feet.

“I’d like to see you try,” he replied smoothly, settling back into his chair across from her, “Promise me there will be lots of struggling,” Lucanis added, his voice dropping into a playful drawl. “Rolling around, grabbing for each other’s daggers…” He leaned forward slightly, a wicked glint in his eyes. “And sweaty. It’ll be sweaty, right?”

Urrgghhhh. She hated it when he turned it back on her like that.

Rook crossed her arms, trying to maintain her composure, but she could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks. She wasn’t nearly as good as he was at making death threats sound… sultry.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, grabbing her coffee and taking a long sip to avoid saying anything else that might give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d flustered her.

“Are you flirting with me, Dellamorte?” Rook asked, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “I thought you didn’t do that.”

Lucanis leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “First time for everything, de Riva,” he replied smoothly. “You could say I’m making up for lost time.”

“I’m not sure if I should say yes or no,” Rook admitted, a nervous smile playing at her lips.

Lucanis leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady, his voice soft but teasing. “Say yes. Take a risk. See what happens.”

He could see the conflict in her eyes, the struggle between protecting her heart and giving in to her curiosity.

“Yes,” she said finally, her voice quiet but steady.

Lucanis half-smiled, standing as he offered his hand. She took it, and together they walked to the balcony overlooking the canal. The soft light reflected off the water below, casting shimmering patterns onto the stone railing.

He leaned against the cool stone, his hand still firmly holding hers.

“So… I said yes, and now we’re looking at…” Rook began, her voice tinged with nervous humor.

“For the love of the Maker, Rook,” Lucanis interrupted, turning to face her fully. “Shut up and let me kiss you. Just stop… talking.”

Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, his mouth brushing against hers in a soft, deliberate kiss. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, and Rook melted into him, her heart racing.

He was a good kisser.

Cliché as it was, she slowed time around them with a spell, savoring the moment as the rest of the world blurred into nothing.

Lucanis smiled against her lips, not breaking the kiss, his voice low and warm. “I know what you’re doing, Rook,” he murmured, his lips still grazing hers.

And she didn’t care.

[secriden]

THK Episode 1 thoughts in no particular order or level of coherency:

I didn't see Fadel as Lawful Good coming, but at the same time it makes perfect sense now that I've seen the episode

Somehow, I now kinda ship First with both Joong and Dunk and I cannot explain it even to myself but damn.

Khaotung's ability to not just sound and act but nearly exude the presence of a naive innocent young man, head still in the clouds and dreaming of true love, is Truly Impressive. I actually believe, not only that he's younger than Fadel, but that he genuinely lacks the emotional maturity too even process the risk that Fadel sees.

I now appreciate so much what people said about First's almost understated detailed acting because those rapid shifts in his expressions said so much in tiny increments of time, I'm blown away.

Dunk is so pretty, Dunk is so pretty, DUNK IS SO FUCKING PRETTY!?!?!

But also please I adore everything Dunk did as Style he gave absolutely everything for that character and held nothing back. The way he just... went for it?? In all the scenes, every single one? I'm trying not to be too spoiler-y but damn, I get it when First said that Dunk really embodied Style because he really really DID!!!

That ending was genius my brain immediately lit up with all the ways this could go and I'm SO EXCITED

The way the sex wasn't even remotely the most insanity-inducing thing in this episode really goes to show how well this was made but also ITS HILARIOUS

Having said that, damn it was hot!!

Joong's eyebrows eyebrowing so hard <3

I don't think JoongDunk were meant to have sexual tension at all in this episode but they still felt very sexy to me. Maybe its just me, but it felt like tension even when Fadel is mostly just pissed off there's that... okay, you know how the opposite of love is not hate, but apathy? Guess what, zero apathy right here!!

I'm genuinely so happy with what we got though. It really is as light and silly and camp and gorgeous as they promised and I'm so so grateful for that. There's potential for devastation (I see you, Kant, hiding backstory hints inside your soft serve!), but also how lucky are we to get silly romantic shenanigans with the murder brother duo and their (future) flirty boyfriends???

Also the music!? Can we talk about THE MUSIC?? it was so... idk, like it was almost its own character in this episode. It was like audience direction with how much it would abruptly change the tone of the scene. I wonder if this will continue throughout the show or if they're doing it because it's the first episode and they're really really laying those comedy foundations down, but its fascinating.

I can't believe we get "Good Morning, krub" and "love at first sight" in the same episode omg ;A; <3

Style should've learned from the expert:

[farenmaddox]

@wormieapple I don't want to reblog all your tags, but I do want to respond a little bit because you made some great points!

You kind of summarized it as "free will is ugly, has consequences, and is constantly in competition with the free will of others." I think that's true, but only up to the certain point of the original run of the show. I would tentatively say that I think this point has been eroding ever since season 6.

In the beginning, it was just about Sam and Dean having autonomy for their own bodies and souls and being allowed to make their own choices about who they can share those things with and/or give them away to. They spend a lot of seasons 4 and 5 finding out that a lot of their lives were "predestined" and they are left questioning how much of it was really up to them. But the story is about them fighting back against this idea, and Castiel comes in to provide this additional perspective that it's not just because they're the Winchesters and they're special, that this type of freedom should belong to anyone. At the end of season 5, they have thrown off the preselected narrative and saved the world. It did have consequences and it did hurt and not everybody survived, but the message is still that free will is a good thing and the world is better for it.

Everything from that point on has been very "free will's consequences are devastating, actually." They get so many people killed, and they have no victories that are not pyrrhic and directly leading to even worse problems. Every attempt they made to have a personality outside of their assigned role was brutally punished.

In my original post I was talking about Cas embodies this a lot, and how specifically every time he tries to grapple with or defend free will, it goes wrong. He wants so much for angels to have this, to make heaven a better place, but all it ever does is get them killed in droves. It literally never works even a little bit. Introducing free will to angels was unequivocally bad and this is never rectified or redeemed. The ending message is that angels can't handle free will and it's bad for them and for the world. But I'm also thinking about how they will never ever let Sam process his trauma meaningfully. Thinking about that scene in the apocalypse world (season 13, I think???) where they killed him and had Lucifer be the one to bring him back and hold him hostage to get to Jack. Sam is yet again helpless against Lucifer's wishes, as if nothing has changed in the last 10 years, directly contradicting what they wanted to say when they had him say "no" to Lucifer in season 11. When he wanted to use his trauma to display how resilient it had made him at the beginning of season 12, he wasn't allowed to have that either, they just drugged him and took what they wanted anyway. Sam is never allowed to be anything but a victim, EVER. All this before season 15 even happened.

Season 15 was where they should have drawn those threads back together and found a way to say, actually, you CAN escape these narrow definitions and things CAN change and your choices DO matter and the world IS a better place for having you and the way that you care in it. But they either didn't want to leave us with that message, or they fumbled the ball so badly that we're still talking about it on fandom ESPN these four years later. Like, I'm not arguing with what you were saying about season 15 being terrible and spitting in the face of the story they were trying to tell before. But my main point is that I think the warning signs were there much earlier than season 15 and they were undermining themselves well before then.

... is it just me, or was Supernatural's ultimate thesis statement on the character of Cas that angels cannot and never will be any good at independent thinking and all efforts at expressing free will shall have unexpected and terrible consequences? He thought he was digging a tunnel out and he was proud of himself but actually all he dug was his own grave. The message being that you actually cannot escape the role you are assigned no matter what?

This is the message of Cas, as a way of underscoring the arc of the actual main two characters, in which the thesis statement is that you cannot escape the trap of toxic masculinity and patriarchal hegemony, you will never deal with your trauma in a way that matters, and you will die and spend eternity caught in its endless cycle. The maze has no exit.

the son becomes the father and becomes absent. this happens to all four members of TFW 2.0 in one way or another. god is dead, long live god. long live broken promises.

[lord-squiggletits]

Also I'm just gonna say that even if it were true that Rodimus was a """""true Prime"""" and Optimus wasn't, that isn't as much of an L for Optimus as people seemingly want it to be.

Like so you're telling me Optimus was never a chosen hero and the burden of the Matrix/leadership pained him morally, emotionally, and physically, yet he still survived 4 million years of war?

You're telling me he wasn't God's Designated Special Boy but he still tried his best to live up to that impossible ideal to the point of developing serious depression and suicidal ideation as a result of so much goddamn loneliness and self-doubt?

Optimus wasn't a "true Prime" and yet he still believed in ideals of reconciliation and ending the cycle of violence? He wasn't a true Prime but he still stayed on Cybertron trying to fix a broken, broken society while also trying to stop Earth from being invaded for a second time? He didn't even need to do that he could've just stayed in exile which he was originally supposed to do all along, and which he would've personally preferred?? You're telling me that Optimus wasn't Primus' Specialest Boy And Chosen Leader and yet he stepped into leadership anyways bc he perceived that there was injustice to be fixed??

Wow yeah I guess Optimus is just such an inferior leader, clearly his actual actions/moral character as person don't matter and his "worthiness" should be judged solely on whether the Magic Cybertronian 8 Ball liked him or not.

[mobius-m-mobius]

a mr tesseract thought: the tva has so many infinity stones… just sitting there… they might not notice a handful of paperweights go missing

Anon you've got my full attention 👀👀

Absolutely living for all the renewed Mr. Tesseract theories and origin stores going around because he's just too perfect to continue the current story!?? I'd always pictured a Mobius variant eventually entering the picture, having succumbed to the power of the Tesseract after needing to save Loki in some way but never in a million years imagined before now that *our* Mobius could end up in that exact situation...

Plus tbh I almost feel Loki going about their self-sacrifice in such an isolated way, reliving all those centuries determined to find a solution without involving anyone else, had an obviously noble goal but a means in such a misguided way which has almost ensured Mobius will do something similar.

Mobius isn't okay. He's on a timeline that can never be his (partially to escape the memories of Loki by his side everywhere he looks in the TVA and hopefully so that back in the flow of time Loki can at least see him again as some form of company still), looking at a life I think he greatly admires but wouldn't personally want even given the choice, and seemingly the only one left directionless and without purpose with Loki being gone.

It wouldn't be a stretch to think loneliness would turn to frustration (because he's done nothing but repress *everything* in the past and deserves to finally burst and be angry and figure out how to express his emotions), confusion, and finally desperation at the thought he might be the only one who cares enough to burn things to the ground in an attempt to either find Loki again or bring him home. I've been headcanoning that similar to Loki in the last episode, Mobius will start putting himself more and more at risk searching for a solution and cut everyone at the TVA off while doing so to keep them from worrying about what he's getting involved in and stop him, which of course eventually leads right to the Tesseract as potentially one of the only methods left of traveling to what I assume is the end of time or somewhere similar.

Bonus points if Loki is watching every moment, unable to do a thing as the Mobius he knows slips further and further away while experimenting with the Tesseract until finally he can't see him on the timeline at all anymore, and as he mourns a crackle of blue energy opens nearby. Loki immediately realizes what's happened and calls desperately for Mobius, but when the figure who exits steps closer he's all cold, hard lines and an blank, electric blue stare. Temporary amnesia v4.0 let's go but make it even more angsty this time 😂😅 Eventually the Power of Love™ wins out of course but that's pretty much my dream arc for now!

[daz4i]

remember how i mentioned that my dad's friend suggested he'll teach me this program so i might work in his high-tech company bc he "remembers that [i'm] a smart person". anyway i went to his house yesterday to discuss the whole thing and he asked me what, like, education i have and if i've studied anything after high school to which i very slowly said "i- uh- mostly, um, arts" and when i tell you i could see this man's eyes instantly fill with regret,

[dekuneho]

reason ☆ ( thirdyear!katsuki x reader ) suggestive — your boyfriend breaks up with you, and katsuki doesn’t waste opportunities

The first fact Class 1-A learns about you is that you have a boyfriend.

Well — had. And now you’re third years, and it’s safe to say that you should’ve broken up long ago.

You had him since middle school, but they never met him. Your dynamic shifted from the perfect picture of high school sweethearts to something more toxic since you got into UA — 1-A, no less. Yuusei didn’t pass the UA exams and called you insensitive for asking him to come meet your ‘fancy hero friends’ while he was from some low-profile school, and back when you had sympathy for him, it was difficult to be peeved at his blatant jealousy. He had a compelling, teary face.

“That’s called manipulative,” Sero says.

“He was really insecure,” you confess. Not that it makes it any better. He was manipulative because he was insecure — but that wasn’t all. He’d been that way long ago. There was a different turning point.

Kirishima gives a gentle, understanding pat on the back. “We were busy enough as it is. But now we’re about to graduate; of course you started thinking more about your future.”

“And you got the perfect ending — a future without him!” Ashido cheers to that. You take a long, long, victorious sip.

Right. After your breakup, you phoned Ashido about it, unaware that she was out with the rest of your friends, but it wasn’t like you were on speaker. Ashido gasped and shrieked, and the rest continued in her apartment, bottles of fancy wine that probably came from Bakugou lined up on the table.

Bakugou had been silent the entire time, sitting on the far edge of the couch across yours. You didn’t even think he’d come along. He’d always been coldly indifferent when it came to anything related to Yuusei. He doesn’t offer a single word; you expected him to call you stupid for dragging it this long when you entered the room. He just stared, ruby tracing your every step.

“So? What made you snap?” Kaminari asks, nestling into the cushion beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulder. You feel like a prey as Bakugou’s gaze holds on Kaminari’s arm for a moment too long. “What shit did he pull this time?”

Bakugou had been the reason for your breakup, and it almost feels like he knows exactly that.

Yuusei despised him. Bakugou is the physical embodiment of everything Yuusei failed to be, and you were friends with him. It really didn’t help that Bakugou has an ego and can back it up; Yuusei didn't have either.

Yuusei was in a heated argument with a classmate, and you got irritated by his voice drowning out even your music at the loudest volume. So you got up, buried your feet in your outside shoes, and glanced back.

“Hey, I’m going out.”

Yuusei was already having an awful day, and came the bottled-up aggression that made him spit in seething venom: “What, don’t tell me you’re going out to fuck Bakugou behind my back again?”

You paused from where you had been tugging your jacket sleeves up your arms. And then, unadulterated fury. The rest is history.

But that’s embarrassing to admit to your friends. They’d ask why Yuusei would even bring Bakugou up — why he is even a recurring argument in your relationship. It wasn’t just Yuusei that was the problem. Somewhere buried deep that Yuusei could feel was your shame, the one that knew Yuusei wasn’t just threatened by Bakugou because of one thing.

“He was having a bad day,” you say instead, and the mendacious excuse slips so easily. Back then, you thought it was because you needed to defend Yuusei; now, it was because you feared them also knowing the truth. “And I realized I just couldn’t — uh, anymore.”

“Yeah,” Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Ashido agree together.

Bakugou finally shifts from where he’d been unmoving, ducking down to fill his glass. “‘least you learned your fucking lesson.” His gaze flicks up; the intensity makes you feel so shameful. It coils in your gut. “Forget the losers who can’t handle themselves. Go for the best.”

Coming from him. Is he flirting? This has to be flirting, right? Every word he says feels so charged, blatant with intent.

“Whoa, fresh on the market and you’re already saying that? Give it a few months, at least,” Kaminari laughs, followed by some, but you and Bakugou aren’t laughing. You’re stuck in this weird staring competition — looking away feels like admitting defeat. Feels like you’d straight up confess that yes, it’s you! You’re the fucking reason why!

“Yeah,” you mutter, though you’re not sure if it’s in response to Kaminari or Bakugou’s. You drag on another sip but feel as sober as a judge. You feel like you’d need ten more before you could even deal with whatever shit Bakugou is pulling.

“Cheer up, baby,” Mina coos. “You know you’re a catch. Yuusei will know exactly what he lost.”

“I don’t care about him anymore,” you say, which is the complete truth. “I’m getting shitfaced because I feel like I’m about to make a very bad decision.”

“Um?” Kirishima voices worriedly. “Do we need to take you somewhere?”

Bakugou stands abruptly, jingling his car keys in between his fingers. “Come on.”

“Are you drunk?” he asks before you can even pretend to open your front door.

“I only smell like it, but I really am too clear-headed for this,” you swear.

The moment he pins you to the wall and buries his mouth into yours, you know you are gone. This is what Yuusei had been fearing, what you’d been hiding — and fuck, it feels so good. He kisses like he’s starving like he’s been holding back for as long as you are. The shame comes spilling out soon after.

“I just got broken up with,” you say in a futile attempt to ease your guilt. “Hey — Katsuki, do you even—”

“I know what I’m doin’,” he says, mouthing over where your jaw and neck meet. "I know you want me."

“God, this is so fucked up,” you say, trailing off in a whine that really says a lot about you. “I’m an asshole. You’re really good at kissing — Katsuki—”

“Try three years of patience and tell me again what’s more fucked up,” Katsuki rasps, breath searing a mark on your skin, inciting a shudder that came down from your toes to your dizzy head.

“You were waiting for Yuusei and me to break up?”

“I get what I want.” Katsuki pauses, his eyes flicking up, arresting yours for a breath. “And he was a dick. Was bettin’ since year one.”

You curl a strand of his untamed hair, unwittingly charmed. “Sorry for making you wait.”

He responds by capturing your lips in a kiss, prying your mouth open with his, licking in, biting, pulling, grinding, and —

Katsuki softens his hold on your hips, pushing off. “Hey.”

You pant. Wow, you think, lightheaded, you don’t think you’d ever been kissed that well. “Hey,” you exhale over his mouth.

Katsuki bears his forehead heavily down on yours. “This isn’t some one-night stand rebound bullshit, you hear me? I didn’t wait three years just to get my dick wet — we’re doin’ this shit, got that?”

“I know,” you say, smiling. “You’re the best of all of them, right?”

[malavera]

Peaches: “Would you be so kind in lending a hand?” (18+) — Logan Howlett

summary: the friendly old man neighbor of yours is helping you with your wash day

warning: the setting of this one-shot is AU no correlation to Wolverine & Deadpool, SMUT! MDNI, fingering, female oral receiving, age gap (legal), no use of Y/N, the use of pet name peach, sir kink, squirting

wc: 3.5k (well it's a full shot not a drabble ehe)

creds: i forgot where the divider is from, creds to the creator!

dedicating this one to my favorite authors!

@velvrei @wolverinesleftclaw @stark-ironman @lovelybucky1 @cyber333angel @dollverine @joelsgoldrush

peaches masterlist

The day had finally come when you decided enough was enough. The laundry had been sitting there for three days, staring at you from the corner of your room like a silent accusation. Today was the day you would conquer it. Armed with your resolve, you hauled the overflowing basket to the laundry room. But as fate would have it, the universe had other plans.

The washing machine, that steadfast appliance you’d trusted for years, chose this very moment to betray you. The once familiar hum was replaced by a groan, a sputter, and then—nothing. You stared at it, disbelief turning to frustration as you realized the mountain of clothes in your arms was going nowhere. Your favorite pair of undies, buried somewhere in the pile, would have to wait.

You let out a long sigh, leaning back against the machine, its cool surface doing little to soothe your annoyance. Arms crossed, you dialed your father’s number, hoping for some semblance of a solution.

“Dad, the washing machine broke,” you said, half hoping he’d have a quick fix, half dreading his response.

There was a pause before he spoke, his voice calm, almost too calm. “Ask Logan for help, he’s pretty handy with stuff. I won’t be back until 8 PM tonight, buttercup.”

You nearly dropped the phone. Logan. Of course, it had to be him. The very thought of knocking on his door, asking him for help, sent a thrill of anxiety coursing through you. Why did it have to be him?

Logan Howlett—the man who occupied your thoughts far too often, the man who was the face of your wildest dreams. Just the mention of his name made your heart race. And now, you were supposed to ask him for help? The universe certainly had a twisted sense of humor.

You ended the call, staring at the washing machine like it was some cruel joke. The burnt toast theory, they called it. Sometimes, when things went wrong, it was the universe’s way of steering you toward something better. But as you stood there, contemplating the inevitable encounter with Logan, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was a blessing in disguise—or a test you weren’t sure you could pass.

Logan Howlett had been a fixture in your mind for five long months, ever since he moved into the neighborhood. It wasn’t just his rugged good looks or the way he carried himself with that effortless confidence; it was the way he seemed to have slipped so seamlessly into your life. Your dad, always quick to befriend a fellow drinker, had taken to him immediately. They were practically inseparable, sharing beers on the front porch, watching games in the living room, and even lingering over meals in the dining room.

And there you were, sneaking glances every time Logan was around, feeling that unmistakable flutter in your chest whenever he caught your eye.

Today, though, was different. Somehow, you found yourself standing on his porch, heart pounding as your fist hovered in mid-air. What were you thinking? Asking Logan for help—it felt too forward, too direct. But here you were, ignoring every ounce of self-doubt, raising your hand to knock on his door.

You barely had time to second-guess yourself before the door swung open. And there he was, the embodiment of everything that had been haunting your thoughts for months: tall, effortlessly sexy, his dark hair tousled just right. He was wearing a white shirt that clung to his broad chest and shoulders, tucked into denim jeans that fit him perfectly. You couldn’t help but notice how the summer sun cast a warm glow on his skin, making the moment feel almost surreal.

“Hey,” Logan’s voice broke through your reverie, casual yet deep enough to send a shiver down your spine. He squinted against the sunlight, his expression shifting into one of familiarity. “I was about to come over. Your dad called and asked me to check on something.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady as your mind raced. “Yeah, the washing machine broke. Dad said you could help… Would you be so kind in lending a hand?”

You could hear your own voice, slightly strained as you tried to strike the perfect balance. Not too high-pitched, not too low. Not too eager, not too aloof. But before you could overthink it any further, Logan flashed you a small smile, one that made your heart do a little flip.

“Yeah, sure, Peach.”

And there it was—that damn nickname that never failed to turn your insides into mush. It started innocently enough, the day your dad brought home a bag full of peaches and peach-flavored drinks. Logan had been there, chuckling at the sight, and ever since, he’d called you “Peach” with that easy, teasing tone. Now, every time he said it, you couldn’t help but melt a little, even if you tried to play it cool.

As you turned to lead him to your house through the backyard, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the universe’s way of pushing you closer to the man who had taken up residence in your thoughts.

“It made a really loud noise and it was shaking really bad, the sound was a bit scary,” you admitted, your voice tinged with worry. “And also, can you check if my clothes are alright? Did it tear them off or something?”

Logan nodded thoughtfully, a low hum of consideration escaping him as he surveyed the situation. “Where did your dad put his tools?” he asked, his gaze already scanning the room.

“Oh, it’s right there,” you said, pointing towards the shelf against the wall. Determined to be helpful, you stood on your tippy toes, stretching to reach the toolbox. But before you could grasp it, Logan moved past you with ease, his hand already closing around the handle.

“Careful, Peach. It’s pretty heavy,” he murmured from behind you, his voice close enough to send a subtle shiver down your spine. His presence loomed over you as he reached up effortlessly, the scent of his cologne mingling with the warm summer air.

You stepped back, feeling a mix of flustered and grateful as he handled the heavy toolbox with ease, making you feel small and protected all at once.

“O-okay.” The stutter slipped out before you could stop it. Seriously? Get a grip, you scolded yourself internally. Trying to regain some composure, you quickly added, “I’m just—gonna… fix you something to drink.” You gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen, hoping to retreat before you embarrassed yourself further.

Logan nodded absentmindedly, his focus entirely on the washing machine that seemed to be on its last legs. He didn’t even glance your way, which was both a relief and a disappointment. You took a nervous step back, then another, finally turning and heading to the kitchen, hoping a moment away would help you steady your nerves.

Leaving his presence created an unfamiliar ache in your chest, a tug of reluctance you hadn’t anticipated. It was as if some part of you didn’t want to leave his side, didn’t want to be apart from the quiet strength that Logan exuded. The thought of retreating to the kitchen, of putting physical distance between you and him, felt wrong, almost unnatural.

You wanted to stay. You wanted to watch him work on the broken machine, to see those skilled hands in action, to listen to the steady, assured way he moved and spoke. But at the same time, you knew you couldn’t trust yourself around him. Not when your heart raced at every little interaction, not when just being near him made you feel so unsteady.

You didn’t have the confidence to be casual, to act like you weren’t hanging on his every word and gesture. And you certainly didn’t have the strength to face the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you every time you were close to him. So instead, you sought refuge in the kitchen, hoping the distance would help calm the storm inside you, even as it left you aching for more.

Twisting the faucet, you watched as the water streamed out, the steady flow almost hypnotic in its simplicity. The kitchen was quiet, the only sound the gentle rush of water hitting the sink. You leaned forward, letting the coolness soothe your heated skin, and splashed your face with the cold water, hoping it would bring some clarity to your muddled thoughts.

For a moment, the shock of the cold jolted you back to reality, away from the overwhelming thoughts of Logan that had been swirling in your mind. You closed your eyes, letting the droplets drip down your face, trying to steady your breathing and collect yourself. It was just a broken washing machine, just a neighbor doing a favor.

You swung open the fridge, your hand instinctively reaching for your favorite peach-flavored soda. The cool metal of the can felt reassuring against your palm as you pulled it from its place. With a satisfying hiss, you cracked it open, the sweet, fruity scent immediately filling the air.

Reaching for a tall glass, you filled it with ice, the cubes clinking softly as they settled. Then, you poured the bubbly soda over them, watching as the fizzy drink cascaded down, swirling and dancing around the ice. After inserting a straw into the glass, you carefully picked it up, the cool condensation forming on the outside of the glass. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way back to where Logan was.

"Here you go," you announced, placing the glass on the nearby table. Logan turned his attention from the washing machine to you, his eyes briefly darting to the drink you’d set down. A smile curved on his lips, the warmth in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “Thanks, Peach.”

“Ehe…” You offered a nervous smile in return, your cheeks heating up at the casual endearment. Trying to steady your fluttering nerves, you grabbed the straw and shoved it into your mouth with a little more force than intended. It was your way of silencing the awkwardness bubbling inside you, a desperate attempt to keep any embarrassing sounds from escaping.

“So, your dad’s going on a date later today, huh?” Logan’s voice was light, but he noticed the nervousness you were trying to mask. His intention was to ease the tension with casual conversation.

“Y-yeah, he’s working now, but that’s what I’ve heard,” you replied, nervously fiddling with the straw. You decided to sit on the edge of the table where Logan’s drink was, adjusting it carefully to avoid spills.

Logan glanced at you, then back at the washing machine, his smirk widening. “You okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you responded, a bit defensively.

Logan chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve never been too thrilled about him dating. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of Logan’s question pressing on you. Taking a deep breath, you decided to let your guard down. “Well, it’s just… I’ve always felt like I have to compete for his attention. It’s silly, I know, but it’s hard when you’re used to being the center of someone’s world.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he gave you an understanding nod. The moment of connection hung between you as Logan turned his attention back to the washing machine. He worked with focused precision, his hands moving deftly as he made the final adjustments. The clinks and whirs of the machine were soon replaced by a steady, rhythmic hum.

“There we go,” Logan said with a satisfied grin, stepping back to admire his handiwork. The washing machine was back in action, its gentle whirl now a reassuring sound.

You let out a relieved sigh, watching the machine function smoothly. “Thank you so much, Mister Howlett. I really appreciate it.” you said, your gratitude sincere as you adjusted from your sitting position to stand up. You set down your now-empty glass on the table, the slight clink of the glass breaking the brief silence.

Hearing you address him as "Mister Howlett" sparked something within Logan—an unfamiliar, yet undeniable feeling. It was a sentiment he had been trying to avoid, one that stirred within him despite his best efforts to keep his distance. The formal address seemed to intensify the feelings he had been wrestling with, making them more pronounced.

You're not the only one who has a crush, he does too.

From the moment Logan had closed the trunk of his truck while moving into the neighborhood, you had been on his mind. He remembered the day vividly—watching you step out of your car in a beautiful white sundress that hugged your upper body and flowed gracefully. The way the dress accentuated your figure, combined with the ease of your movements, had captured his attention in a way he hadn’t anticipated. As you came knocking on his door with your dad beside you to welcome him into the neighborhood, those peach-flavored pie you brought had been lingering in his mind ever since. He wondered if you smell as good as that pie where he devoured in one full bite that night. And here you are, wearing the same white sundress that's gotten him obsessed with.

As Logan took a step forward, you instinctively stepped back, forgetting about the table behind you. Your hips brushed against it gently, causing a small jolt. Logan had intended to reach for the glass of your beverage, but his proximity brought him uncomfortably close.

With a casual yet deliberate movement, Logan took the glass from behind you, his body nearly brushing against yours. He lifted the glass in front of you, tilting his head slightly with a smirk. “Thanks, Peach,” he said, his voice low and warm.

Without breaking eye contact, he chugged down the drink, his gaze locked onto yours. The act was both confident and intimate, making the moment feel charged with unspoken tension. The shared space between you seemed to crackle with a newfound energy as you both stood there, the air thick with the lingering effects of the brief but intense connection.

You cleared your throat, feeling a flush of heat spread across your cheeks as you managed to wiggle your way out from the proximity of Logan. You made your way toward the washing machine, watching it work through the glass as your laundry tumbled inside.

“Tell me, Peach,” Logan’s voice came from behind, smooth and deliberate. “Is your taste as good as this peach soda?”

Your breath hitched, and your mind raced. Am I hearing this right? Is this a dream? You thought, trying to process his words. Despite the possibility of it being a dream, you couldn't bring yourself to face him. Instead, you leaned against the washing machine, the rhythmic vibrations grounding you.

“Um—W-what do you mean, s-sir?” you managed to stammer, your voice barely more than a whisper.

You could feel Logan’s presence closing in behind you, the air growing warmer and thicker as he approached. The vibrations from the washing machine seemed to pulse more intensely against your torso, amplifying the sensation of his proximity. Each step he took made your heartbeat quicken, your senses acutely aware of the space between you shrinking.

Logan’s shadow fell over you, and you could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His breath, though not yet touching your skin, was close enough that you could sense its warmth. 

“You wanna know what ‘m thinking, Peach?” He mumbles behind your ear. You wished he didn’t hear your shuddered breath and the swallowed saliva down your throat from the way he makes you nervous.

“I don’t think so, Mister Howlett.” you managed to reply, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to maintain your composure.

“Naw, why? Afraid you might like it?” You could feel the smirk slowly forming in his face.

“I-”

“I’m thinking of bending you against this washing machine, lift up your very short sundress and get on my knees. Slowly taking my time smelling that scent… of arousal from your pussy, where I know, she’s dying to be touched, to be fingered, to be fucked, by me.” You gasp once you feel the bulge from his rough jeans, teasingly grinding against your ass earning a chuckle from him as he continues,

“Oh yes I know, Peach. I know how much you want to feel this cock inside you. Should’ve known better to close your blinds at night when your delicate… fingers desperately trying to reach that high, because I’m always watching you, Peach. Even though you’re such a pain in the ass with that, Peach flavored pie, and that fucking beautiful smile. I wanna turn those smiles into tears… Tears of pleasure from me, fucking this cunt.” You gasped loudly as Logan roughly thrust his bulge against your ass, hitting you against the washing machine.

“L-Logan,” you stammered, your voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

“Call me, Sir,” Logan’s tone was laced with full authority, each word deliberate and commanding. You choked back a swallow before you corrected yourself.

"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about." You stood on your ground.

"Yeah? Let me remind you how it feels then, this time, with me." Logan grunted in your ears before you felt a rush of cold air blowing against your damped panties resulted from Logan lifting your skirt up. You whimpered once you feel his fingers grazing against your soaking wet cunt, earning a mocking tut from Logan.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... Your cunt says otherwise, Peach." He rubs you through the panties before ripping them off of you, the sound piercing through the room.

Logan crouched on his knees, proving his promise to you the one where he'd like to take his time smelling you from down your legs up to your thighs, dragging his warm tongue on your delicate skin upwards earning a moan from you. Logan hummed once he connected his lips to your glistening pussy lips, his tongue swirling and lapping your gushing juices.

You feel like god had just granted you your wishes into doing this sinful things. You finally can experience the feeling of his tongue against your throbbing cunt that keeps on gushing. Logan moaned, while he laps your juices up like a dog. "You taste just as I imagined, peach-flavored cunt." He murmured against your pussy.

A rosy hue crept across your cheeks hearing his statement. "Come on, Peach. Gimme more." Logan breathed out, his two hands that were gripping your thighs pushed and lifted you upward attempting you to bend over more over the top of the washing machine. Spreading your legs wide, you moaned out loud once you feel his tongue crazily lap your pussy like a dog in thirst.

"S-sir.." You squeaked, feeling yourself close.

"Hmm, yeah, give it to me, Peach." Logan grunted, burying his face even more.

"Ngh, I'm gonna-" Before you could finish that sentence, you froze as you heard your dad's voice calls out to you.

"Buttercup! I'm home, have you managed with the laundry yet?" He hollers from the other room. You gasped while Logan didn't even budge, he kept resuming his action.

"Y-yes, Dad! Everything's good now!" You holler back, holding yourself back from moaning.

"Do you need any help, darling?" You heard the sound of footstep, your eyes widened and hurriedly answer, "No- No, Dad! Everything's good, I'll be coming in a second." Logan smirked.

"Okay darling, I'm gonna get some rest." Your dad holler back as his footsteps fading away. You sighed in relief before you gasped when you feel Logan entering two fingers inside your cunt.

"What a naughty little girl, she needs to make herself cum before she gets back to being the dotting daughter huh?" You whimper to his words.

"Please, sir. Don't stop, it feels so good.."

"Yeah? Wait till you feel my cock." Logan vowed. He curled his fingers inside you, effortlessly flicking your g-spot before he stood back up on his feet, leaning against your back. He gently guide you to stand on your feet even though it's impossible for you as you're still in daze from his fingers still working their magic.

Logan whispered all kinds of filthy things in your head to get you to reach your high. "Is this just like what you imagined, peach?" — "Feels so good yeah?" — "Yes it does. Are you gonna cum for me?" — "Yeah come on, almost there, I know," — "Make a mess on my fingers, baby."

As you choked a loud moan, Logan's other hand went to silenced you while you came gushing down on his fingers. Your whole body shook while Logan holds you in place as you're coming down your high.

"There you go, good girl." You panted once you've gained your strength to stand on your own, you turned around and to find him smirking, a notable wet droplet covered some parts of his jeans as you now just learned, that you squirted on him a little.

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, his gaze never leaving yours as he tasted what's remained of you on his fingers.

"Hmm, taste just like a peach."

let me know if you want me to start the journey for Logan & Peach 😉

[fxllfaiiry]

─ you're the sunflower ੈ✩‧₊˚

✶ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

✶ synopsis: everyone on the team loves you, expect miguel who seems to hate you more than anyone.

✶ warnings: angst!! major angst. sunshine!reader x grumpy!miguel. reader is nicknamed sunflower, mentions of death.

✶ notes: there's one spanish sentence in this, I'm not good with spanish so if I've made a mistake please tell me so i can fix it! part two is already up!!!

Everyone on the team loved you from the moment you joined, everyone, except Miguel. 

You knew Miguel was cold towards everyone, but he was extra cold with you. Maybe it was because of how different your personalities were. 

You were the embodiment of sunshine, always positive in any situation, putting others before yourself. Hence why everyone calls you sunflower, it fits perfectly, Miles was proud of coming up with it. 

Miguel on the other hand was cold and distant but that didn't stop you from trying to get him to open up. You'd try to have simple conversations with him but nothing, all you would receive in reply was an eye roll or a slight grunt, but you wouldn't give up that easily. 

Like today, you got him some coffee. 

"Morning, boss. Got you some coffee." You said in your usual cheerful tone. 

"Why?" He raised his eyebrows, looking down at you suspiciously. That's the most he's said to you all week. 

"Because I wanted to." You shrugged, placing it down on his desk. 

He steped down walking towards his desk, you couldn't help but stare at him, unfortunately for you, everything about him was so attractive, it's such a shame he hated you. 

"This isn't how I like my coffee." 

"Huh?" You snapped out of your daydream at the sound of his voice. 

"The coffee, it tastes terrible. Get it from another place next time." 

"Well, actually I made it-" But he had already walked away from you not listening to a word you said. "Alright, never mind, I'll just go back to work." You mumbled hurt by his words. 

"Wait, hold on." You looked up, thinking, maybe he'll say something nice after all. 

"Yeah?" 

"Take the coffee with you, I won't be drinking it." 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Girl, why do you look so sad? Did Miguel do something again?" Jess asked with a frown, she did not like seeing you sad. 

"No."

"Sunflower…"

"Okay, yes." Miguel being cold towards you was normal, he never spoke to you unless necessary. Out of everyone here, he probably hated you the most, even more than Miles.  

"Sunflower, I've told you to stop trying." Jess sighed. 

"I know, I know… why does he hate me so much, Jess?" 

"That's just the way he is, don't overthink it. It's his loss, baby." She replied, gently patting your shoulder. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Today was going to be a good day, you were so sure of it. 

But, of course, you were wrong. 

Everything was going great up until a few hours ago. 

Miguel had assigned you on a mission to catch an anomaly, alongside a few other spider-people. His instructions were clear, stick to the plan and catch the anomaly. It was supposed to be simple. 

If only you didn't disobey him. You screwed up badly, and because of that, you could have been killed. 

"Why don't you ever listen?" Miguel shouted. No one had ever seen him this angry. 

"I was just tryin-" 

"¡Ay, por el amor de Dios!" Being yelled at by your boss in front of your coworkers was humiliating, everyone was looking at you with pity. 

"I'm sick of this, why can’t you follow simple instructions? Is it that hard to understand?" He barked, towering over you. 

"It's not a big deal." You tried to keep your composure, you didn't want to humiliate yourself further by bursting into tears. 

"Not a big deal? You could've died! A simple mistake would have ruined the whole mission." 

Don't cry. Don't cry. 

"But we're all fine, aren't we?" You weakly chuckled. That was the wrong thing to say because it only made him angrier. 

"Oh? If that's the attitude you have then you shouldn't even be on the team." Ouch. 

"Miguel, I think that's enough-" Hobie said, quickly jumping in. 

"Not now, Hobie." He growled. 

Never once did you think that you'd be in a situation like this. 

"If you put more focus on trying to be good at your job, rather than impressing me, we wouldn't even be here!" Oh, so he did notice that. 

At this point, tears were streaming freely down your face and you made no attempt to stop them. 

"Yep, you got it, boss." You smiled up at him through your tears. It was pathetic, but you did not care, you just wanted to leave and never come back. 

"Next time make sure this doesn't happen." 

"It won't happen next time." That's because there won't be a next time.

[cyberpunkgyu]

Moonstruck — P.SH ✧.*

summary: when your boyfriend won’t stop staring at you or sunghoon falling deeply in love

genre: fluff, romance

warnings: not proofread!!

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

sunghoon loves you. there’s no doubt in that.

you are his first love, and hopes to be his last.

sometimes he gets so immersed in his thoughts about the future, and you’re a huge part of it. he wants to marry you one day, loving the thought of being with you for the rest of his life. growing old with you, through thick and thin, and till death do us part.

he would have never thought in his life that he’d be this in love with someone. of course, he knew the concept of it, he did grow up in a loving household, his parents always giving their all to their kids, and to each other. he always felt warm and safe.

and that’s what he felt when he’s with you.

not only that, but your love for him felt overflowing. to him, you were the embodiment of beauty and love.

“i missed you.” arms wrapped around his waist as soon as he entered your studio apartment, giving the boy a soft squeeze as he tried to take his shoes off with his own feet, not wanting to even let you go for just a second.

a cute smile on displayed on his plump lips, his arms hugging you back. he then gently pulled you, your feet dangling as he walked to your bed which wasn’t too far from the door. he plopped you down before pressing his lips against yours, basically caging you around him. “i missed you too, precious. you have no idea.”

you giggled against his lips, enjoying the feeling of his lips. “wait, wait. before i forget.” you pulled away from the kiss, though he stole a quick peck before moving to sit on the edge of your bed, helping you up.

“what is it?”

you slightly jogged to your fridge before taking out a tiramisu cake, your boyfriend’s favorite, which you had made earlier in the morning as you wanted to surprise him with it. surprisingly it turned out well, feeling a bit proud of yourself. baking was never really your thing, but you wanted to gave it a try instead of just buying it at a local bakery, to make it more special.

“ta dah!” you grinned as you placed it on the circle dining table, sunghoon, who had got up looking down at the cake, a surprised expression on his face, lips parted.

“woah. you made all this? i didn’t you could bake.”

“well, i don’t. but i wanted to try it out because i knew it’s your favorite. don’t have high expectations though! i know it’s probably not the best but it turned out okay.”

sunghoon felt his heart skip a beat, gulping at the sudden feeling, his eyes not leaving you. the way you smile while showing him the tiramisu made him feel as if he was floating. how can he not fall in love over and over again if that’s how you treat him? you make him feel so loved.

he loves you so much that he will do everything for you. if there were an alternative universe out there, he wishes that he’ll still be with you. if reincarnation is a real thing, which sunghoon still thinks about from time to time when he’s deep in his thoughts, he hopes that you’ll both find each other, one way or another.

“hoon?” he shook his head to snap himself out, seeing you look at him with such concern, causing his heart to melt.

god, he felt himself falling deeper and deeper for you.

“ah, yeah. let’s go try it.” he smiled tenderly before walking to one of your kitchen cabinets, knowing where everything was as your place was basically his second home.

grabbing plates and utensils for you both, he cut up one for you first, a habit that he formed after he began dating you, before placing a slice for himself. sunghoon quickly pulled one of the chairs for you to sit on, being the gentleman he is. it truly warms your heart whenever he does things like this, as it makes you feel so loved.

he sat down next to you, stabbing a piece into his fork before doing a "cheers" with you, trying the dessert. you watched him take a bite before you did, waiting for any reactions. his brows furrowed as he ate, and a low hum soon followed. "woah! this is really good! good job."

"you think so? i'm glad. i made a lot so you better finish it." you jokingly threatened your boyfriend before eating some more of the tiramisu, pleasantly surprised by your own creation. sunghoon's eyes remained on you as he ate, his eyes twinkling, gaze full of adoration.

he doesn’t realize how much he smiles when he’s around you. pretty sure he only smiles when he is around you. sure he’d smile to others as a kind gesture, but even that was a rare sight, though with you it was different. it was genuine.

he let out a low chuckle when he noticed a small cream from the cake on the corner if your lips, making you look up at him in confusion. “cute.” he mumbled and mindlessly wiped the cream off with his thumb, catching you off guard. your eyes looked up at him, cheeks heating up.

even after months (almost a year) of being in a relationship with him, he never fails to make you shy.

sunghoon licks it off his thumb before he leaned closer to you, lips hovering over yours. your heart felt loud in your ears.

“you have no idea how crazy you’re making me feel.” he whispered with a low and hushed tone. soon his lips pressed against yours, your hand dropping the fork down your plate before you placed it on his arm, kissing the boy back.

his lips felt so warm and gentle against yours. the sweet taste from your lips drove him even crazier, gently biting the bottom of your lips.

he finally pulled away, wanting to give you some time to breathe, though his forehead remained pressed against yours, his hand on your cheek. “what’s gotten into you?” you mumbled shyly, lips swollen and pink.

his eyebrow raised at your question, “what do you mean? can i not kiss my girlfriend?”

“not that… of course you can. just… i don’t know.” gosh, seeing you all shy made him feel some type of way.

“i just really love you. i’m so in love with you, precious.”

you didn’t think your cheeks could get even redder than it was, looking down bashfully.

“well, i want you to know that i really love you too hoon.” you smiled warmly, slowly looking up at him,

his fangs now on display as he grinned, “i’m glad. cause i am never letting you go.”

“sounds good to me.”

sunghoon doesn’t waste anymore time and pressed his lips back against yours, heart and mind filled with nothing else but you.

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: How You Hypnotize

❤︎ "People are afraid, very much afraid of those who know themselves. They have a certain power, a certain aura and a certain magnetism." - Rajneesh

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✿ Pile One (5oW, Strength, 8oC, Judgement)

Do you have Mula (Sagittarius), Magha (Leo), or Ashwini (Aries) placements? You’re giving off some serious last-one-standing energy. Mula is particularly known for its ability to defy all odds, taking down a “beast” that seems far stronger through wit and quick resolve. It embodies the Belle archetype—well-read, gentle, and kind—able to reign in even the most formidable challenges. This energy suggests a remarkable strength in navigating difficult situations, using intelligence and empathy to emerge victorious.

Life has tried you, pushed you to the brink, and dangled you over a cliff. All while a crowd of people whooped and hollered, rooting for your demise.

But guess what… you’re the one sitting pretty on top of a mountain while everyone else is where?… oh, AT THE BOTTOM OF THE FUCKING CLIFF!

I didn’t plan this reading to be so… boastful? But you deserve to puff your chest out, babe.

You’ve had enemies. Honestly, this isn’t common. When the average person hears about somebody having a lot of “haters” they brush it off and assume that person just has a big head. However, that’s your reality. Your energy triggers people so they consider you a threat to whatever they have going on. For some of you, this could be your own family or closest friends. 

There’s a quiet, obsessive intensity behind your eyes. The fire element is prominent in this reading, indicating a deep, aching desire to consume, burn, and clear everything in your path. While you may feel exhausted from a lifetime of battles, your soul thrives on challenges, igniting a fierce determination within you. This duality fuels your passion, pushing you to confront obstacles head-on, even when the struggle feels overwhelming. Embrace that fire; it’s not just a source of exhaustion, but also a wellspring of resilience and transformation.

🎵YOU KNOW WHEN TO HOLLLDDD ‘EM, KNOWW WHEN TO FOOLLDD ‘EMM, KNOW WHEN TO WALLKKK AWAY, KNOW WHEN TO RUUUUUNNNNNN! 🎵

Your intelligence transcends mere book smarts and common sense, creating an incredibly hypnotic aura around you. Your situational awareness allows you to navigate social dynamics effortlessly, running circles around people, and leaving them tangled in their own webs of thought. You’re scarily smart, a strategic thinker who sees layers others miss. There’s a striking contrast between your physical appearance and the cunning nature beneath the surface; you may look like a doll, seemingly delicate and innocent, but there’s a fierce and dangerous intellect at play. This duality not only captivates those around you but also keeps them guessing about your next move. You also possess incredible endurance—not just in a physical sense, but in your ability to withstand a remarkable amount of bullshit that would have caused most people to tap out long ago.

People look at you and think, “How?” How are you still standing, and how did you manage to come out on top? This aura of resilience draws some people in, compelling them to want to learn your secrets. However, not everyone’s interest is innocent; for some, it morphs into a dark obsession, pushing them to challenge your resolve and see if they can crack your thick skin. This dynamic creates a complex dance around you, where admiration and envy intertwine.

P.S. Even if you’re not Ketu dominant or a Mula native, please watch Claire Nakti’s, The “Final Girl” Astrological placement research video, you will definitely resonate. If you comment, tell them AriJackz from Tumblr sent you!

Okay bye, MUAH 💋

✿ Pile Two (Knight of Pentacles, 2oS, Strength, 7oC (S?), The Star, Judgemental, Short, Melancholic, 4oP)

“HEART BEEN BROKE SO MANY TIIMMESSS

I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO BELIEVEEE

MAMA SAYS IT’S MY FAULLT, IT’S MY FAULLTTT

I WEAR MY HEART OF MY SLEEEEVVVEEEE!”

It’s not your fault, baby! Bitches are just greedy 🙄

This is straightforward, you’re a star! You have that undeniable je ne sais quoi, ¿Cómo se dice… “Everyone wants to be them” energy. As a multi-faceted individual, you possess countless layers that draw people in. Each aspect of your personality holds a unique appeal, making it so that there’s a piece of you that everyone desires. This captivating nature not only sets you apart but also invites beggars who benefit from being near your energy. 

You’re not consciously aware of this power and that’s what makes it great; it’s not manipulated or curated, you just are. In your younger years, you were like a fairy prancing around with a basket of love, giving away pieces of your heart to anyone who looked your way with sad little-kicked puppy eyes. 

However, the world is full of greedy hands that have no intention of giving as much as they receive. You were born with a heart of gold and encountered these all-consuming energies quite early in life, prompting you to spend your adolescence developing discernment and better judgment to avoid getting burned again. This journey has shaped you into someone who values authenticity and reciprocity, allowing you to navigate relationships with a keen awareness of what truly nurtures your spirit.

Even if you don’t feel you have anything explicitly special about you, everyone else sees that you do! In a world where many feel boring and unoriginal in their own skin, your vibrant energy can be a source of irritation for those who struggle with their own identity. Your unique shine serves as a reminder of what they lack, sparking feelings of envy or frustration.

Although, that doesn't mean they won’t play nice in your face while robbing you blind behind your back. You learned this the hard way. 

“There's an old saying in Tennessee — I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee — that says, fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again.” - George W. Bush

YOU DON’T PLAY. You hold your magic close to your chest and are very weary of possible leeches. This guardedness reflects your hard-won wisdom; you know how precious your energy is and are selective about who gets to share in it. THIS IS HYPNOTICCCC.

Your presence is exclusive; not just anyone gets to brush shoulders with you. This rarity makes people eager to be seen as special enough to get close to you. You have options—a variety of choices in friends, partners, lovers—and that selectivity only heightens the allure. People yearn to be among the few you hand-select to join your inner circle, hoping to share in your energy and insights. This creates a magnetic pull, as they aspire to earn a place in your life.

If you didn’t know this, I’m telling you now. Look back on your social interactions and the slick words said to you, probably people accusing you of thinking you’re the shit (you are), and you’ll see just how much of a star you are. 

P.S. Some of you are tiny little spitfires. I don’t think that’s important, but I felt inclined to mention it. If so, that adds to the allure. 5 foot nothing but your attitude is 10 feet tall.

Okay bye, MUAH 💋

✿ Pile Three (Knight of Pentacles, 2oS, Strength, 7oC (S?), The Star, Judgemental, Short, Melancholic, 4oP)

You’re a storm, baby. I know I got some Adra natives in the cleerrb!

A few days ago, my 59-year-old neighbor and I were walking around the park, it was eerily quiet- no children were playing in the field and the trees were the stillest I had ever seen. Breaking the silence, she told me about a belief in ancient Hindu folklore that on days when the sky is framed in dark, dense clouds and the winds are still- not a single gust rustling the trees- the Earth is waiting with weighted breath for the outcome of a long-withstanding battle against good and evil.

She said that when I woke up the next morning, to check the news and see if a famous politician or some powerful person behind the scenes had died- thus being defeated. I checked; a few notable names had passed but the stand-out thing that happened was a vision I saw in a dream where an ex-friend sent me a letter in the mail admitting to some harmful actions I had growing suspicions about. This finally put my mind at ease and reaffirmed my gut intuition. 

I don’t know how to say this without sounding so… metaphorical/poetic, but you’re the person divine consciousness sends to represent the light’s grand victory. You are the embodiment of a prevailing soul. With all ten swords in your back, you’ll get up again and again. 

You’re not sent to the world as the Universe’s sparkling trophy because of luck; no, you’re highly regarded because you walked the same path, you’re no stranger to going to war and coming out with more than a few bumps and scrapes. 

This is not a flashy victory. Not like in the movies where you get ganged up on by bullies, pull out karate moves, whoop some ass, and come out looking like an underdog. This war consists of consecutive, painstaking setbacks and challenges slowly chipping away at your character, leaving behind a shell of a person for you to pick the pieces up and rebuild stronger. It’s a series of quiet battles fought within, where the scars aren’t always visible but the growth is profound. Every moment of doubt, every instance of perseverance, shapes you in ways that aren’t always glamorous but are deeply transformative.

You have scars that manifest as art, each one a mark of survival. Artistic souls look at you and see a single tree still standing after a hellish storm—roots deep in resilience, branches reaching for the light. Each scar is a testament to your journey, a story etched into your skin, reminding the world that even after the fiercest winds, life is reborn with greater tenacity to endure and thrive. 

You carry a thick atmosphere with you, whenever you’re coming the Earth seems to hold its breath to await you. You’re not abrasive or stand-offish, conversely, you’re quite soft, well-balanced, and can even be romantic at times. But that only emphasizes the sharp, heaviness of your presence. 

Yea, we all go through shit but do we all come out the other end with an open heart and willingness to live life optimistically? Fuck no 😭😭.

Somehow... you do and that’s hypnotic as fuck, my love! It’s like, hOW?! Even if people didn’t see the wars you fought, your backbone poses itself like a warrior’s. The way you carry yourself speaks volumes; it imprints on the minds of others far more than words ever could. Your presence is magnetic, a silent testament to your strength and resilience. Talking is just the bare bones of communication; it’s your spirit, your aura, that truly captivates. 

LMAO you’re the type to say less than five words to someone and they’re running back to their friends telling them you’re different from everyone else.

P.S. Your key to bagging anyone you want is your eyes, learn to flirt with your eyes. 

Okay bye, MUAH 💋

✿ Pile Four (The Emperor, Ace of Wands, 3oS, Judgement, The Fool, courageous, Spiritual, Observant, Self-assured, Thirsty, Aimless)

Hmmm, you’re a playboy, stay far away from my easily attached heart, DEMON 🫵.

I’M PLAYING. But for real, you knew the answer to this question before you chose the pile LMFAO.

You’re just plain sexy! That’s it! You’re vivacious and a smooth talker; you like to razzle dazzle your way into people’s minds where your imprint overstays its welcome, making them sick with their lack of permanent access to you.

You’re a social butterfly, flying from person to person, pollinating them with the attention they yearn for, and then flying off to the next adventure, leaving them dizzy with the need to catch and keep you in a cutely decorated mason jar with poked holes up top. Of course, this would kill you, so stay how you are, beautiful!

This might be a bit explicit, but you have a unique way of stirring people’s desires. You don’t need to be overtly sexual; it’s your rare lack of fear of rejection that draws people in. At least, that’s how others see it. In a social world laced with fear, you seem to have an optimistic mentality where, “Every shot you don’t take, you miss.” So you are one of the few humans who aren’t riddled with worries about how you’re perceived and people’s judgments of your character. What is rare is wildly hypnotic.

People thirst over you, like foaming-at-the-mouth rabid dog ARFF ARFF BARK BARK type of thirst… in silence. You are actually way too intimidating to approach. Male or female, socially, people perceive you as high quality and assume you get a lot of attention that the everyday person can not compete with, so they only daydream from afar. 

You’re arm candy. Throughout writing this I pictured famous videos of celebrities like Angelina Jolie, Jhene Aiko, and Chris Evans seducing and unnerving the interviewer through subtle actions. Like the other piles, your aura is the dominant communicator and it doesn’t take much for you to get a mf barking. 

People fear you’ll break their hearts, but funnily enough, you’ve entertained one or two losers in the past and left relationships with a few scars and stories you have to sniffle through to tell. But that’s okay; those experiences teach us how to discern who deserves to be in our lives and who doesn’t. You only let them in because you try not to discriminate, and truly just have a deep passion for connection with anyone and everyone you encounter. Never change, you’re the flame the rest of us moths flock to.

P.S. Discernment and trusting your judgment is a lifelong study; don’t beat yourself if someone who you thought had your best interest at heart, doesn’t in reality. Count that towards your research, dust yourself off, and try again. You’re too brave to let a liar stop your ability to enjoy human company. 

Okay bye, MUAH 💋

[noistanaccount]

Ryoko Kui Does Not Believe in Epiphanies (or: why Marcille and Mithrun's endings are great actually)

I have seen a couple of people who are upset about the way that Mithrun and Marcille's stories were resolved so I'm writing this to clear some things up. Ryoko Kui does not believe in epiphanies. An epiphany is a sudden and usually brief realization, an "aha" moment. Epiphanies are emotionally powerful moments. Both Marcille and Mithrun have powerful moments of realization, epiphanies.

Whether or not you like these resolutions, there's something you need to understand, Ryoko Kui does not put that much stock into these moments. Immediately after Marcille has her realization, Tansu responds like this:

While this is mostly his own opinion, what he is pointing out is that epiphanies are brief, they are singular moments that do not define a life. Life is long, and epiphanies do not sustain you. Marcille might feel like this now, but what about tomorrow? what about nex year? ten years, a hundred years, five hundred years from now? How often have you felt a sudden understanding? a burst of inspiration, or perhaps a realization that everything is pointless? It generally passes quickly, and you make dinner, and go to bed.

Think about the best meal you have ever had, it was probably a special occasion, maybe it felt like something magical, in the moment you might have felt like your life was changed. Then, in the morning you were hungry, so you ate breakfast. You cooked, you did the dishes, you went on with your life. What "meaning" did that meal have if you were hungry again the next day? Mithrun has to rebuild everything, every day he has to come up with new desires to do the very basics. None of it comes naturally, he has to find a reason to eat beyond being hungry, a reason to want to do anything when he doesn't want anything. Ryoko Kui tells us outright, that there is no magical solution:

The same thing applies to Ryoko Kui's representation of racism in dungeon meshi. Around when the orcs appeared in the anime I saw people gripeing about the way racism is treated. They seemed to think that Laios's party having dinner with the orcs was presented as them "solving" racism. Once again people misunderstand, they did not solve racism in a single moment. A few people, understood each other a little better, came to an arrangement and then parted. This was merely a moment in their lives. The characters continue to do micro-agressions, hold stereotypes, and have implicit biases. In dungeon meshi, characters don't suddenly stop being racist in the course of an evening. Life is a process, learning about others is a process, it's about the accumulation of experiences through the meat and potatoes of life, the daily activities that we actually fill our lives with, not the sudden realizations. Once you make learning about and living with other people into part of your routine, once it is embodied, then it is part of your life.

This is the real conclusion: life is not lived in a state of epiphany. Life is about chores, cooking, eating, shitting, working, and sleeping, it's everyday. Life is about doing simple things and doing them well. An epiphany is a useful tool for telling the reader that everything is going to be alright, we love to read epiphanies and be swept up in them. They can also be a breaking of a pattern, an escape from a spiral.

This is the other take away, it's about the people you do those things with, the way they rub off on you, the way they help you be human. For Mithrun and Marcille their paths would be impossible without other people pushing them back on the path as they stray. Mithrun literally would starve to death except for the thought that kabru and others don't want him to. Eating is a communal activity, so is living, you can have an epiphany on your own; you can't live on your own.

[br0kenangel]

𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐘: 𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

The Red Keep was a place of beauty, grandeur, and luxury—a place where everything was meant to be perfect, from the tapestries on the walls to the gowns worn by the ladies of the court. It was a place where you, the embodiment of elegance and grace, thrived. You were known as the beauty, a title you wore like a crown, and you made sure that your appearance reflected nothing less than perfection.

But as of late, there had been something—or rather, someone—who had been disturbing that sense of perfection. That someone was your little brother, Aegon, a child who, in your eyes, was the complete opposite of everything you held dear.

It wasn’t just that he was a child—though that was annoying enough on its own. No, what truly disturbed you was the state he always seemed to be in. His hair was a mess of tangled silver curls, his clothes always dirty, wrinkled, and utterly soulless. You couldn’t understand how anyone could allow a prince—your future husband—to look so… disgusting.

The thought made your skin crawl.

You had tried to ignore it, hoping that someone—anyone—would take the initiative to correct the problem. But no one did. And so, after seeing him one too many times running around the gardens, covered in dirt and wearing those horrid little tunics, you decided you had had enough.

You stormed through the halls of the Red Keep, your gown billowing behind you as you made your way to Queen Alicent’s chambers. When you arrived, you didn’t even bother to wait for the guards to announce you. You pushed open the door and stepped inside, your expression a mixture of determination and disgust.

Alicent looked up from her embroidery, startled by your sudden entrance. “Y/N,” she said, a hint of surprise in her voice. “Is something the matter?”

You didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Yes, there is,” you replied, your tone sharp. “It’s about Aegon.”

Alicent’s brow furrowed. “Is he alright?”

“Physically, yes,” you answered, your words clipped. “But his appearance is another matter entirely. He’s always dirty, his clothes are atrocious, and his hair looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in days. Frankly, it’s an embarrassment. He’s a prince, not some common street urchin.”

“He’s just a child,” she said gently. “Children get dirty; they play, they explore—”

“I don’t care,” you cut her off, your voice firm. “If I am to be his wife, then I refuse to be associated with someone who looks like that. If you cannot ensure that he is properly taken care of, then I will do it myself.”

The queen looked taken aback by your words, but after a moment, she sighed and nodded. “Very well,” she said quietly. “If that is what you wish, then I won’t stand in your way.”

You didn’t respond to that. Instead, you gave a curt nod and turned on your heel, leaving the chamber as swiftly as you had entered. Your mind was already working on the changes you would make—starting with getting rid of every single one of those dreadful tunics he wore.

You found Aegon in the gardens, as expected. He was playing in the dirt again, his little hands caked with mud as he babbled happily to himself. The sight made you grimace in disgust. How could anyone let a prince get so filthy?

“Aegon!” you called sharply, making him look up in surprise.

He beamed when he saw you, his face lighting up with that innocent joy that only a child could muster. “Y/N!” he exclaimed, starting to run toward you, his arms outstretched.

“Stop right there,” you ordered, holding up a hand to halt him in his tracks. “Don’t touch me with those dirty hands.”

Aegon’s face fell, his little smile fading as he looked down at his mud-covered fingers. He seemed confused, hurt even, but you didn’t let it sway you. You had a job to do.

“Come with me,” you commanded, your tone leaving no room for argument. “We’re going to get you cleaned up.”

Aegon followed you obediently, though he kept a small distance, as if he was unsure whether he was in trouble or not. You led him back inside, where you summoned a group of maids and ordered them to take him away for a proper bath.

“Make sure he’s thoroughly cleaned,” you instructed them, your tone cold and precise. “I want him spotless.”

The maids nodded and took Aegon away, leaving you alone to begin your next task. You made your way to his chambers, where you ordered all of his old clothes to be removed and replaced with the finest silks and velvets. You personally oversaw the selection, choosing only the best fabrics, the richest colors, and the most elegant designs.

By the time Aegon was brought to you, freshly bathed and dressed in a simple but luxurious robe, you were ready for the next step. You had already laid out a few options for his new wardrobe and were just finishing your final selections when the maids brought him into the room.

Aegon looked at you with wide, curious eyes, his freshly washed hair falling in soft curls around his face. He looked much better already, but there was still work to be done.

“Come here,” you said, gesturing for him to sit on the stool in front of you.

He hesitated for a moment, but then obeyed, climbing up onto the stool and sitting as still as he could. You picked up a brush and began to work on his hair, frowning as you encountered knot after knot. Aegon winced, letting out small whimpers of pain as the brush tugged at his tangled curls.

“Stay still,” you ordered, your voice firm but not unkind. “A prince must be strong and brave. He cannot cry over something as simple as having his hair brushed.”

Aegon bit his lip, trying his best to remain silent as you continued to work on his hair. It took longer than you anticipated, but eventually, his curls were smooth and glossy, falling neatly around his face.

You set the brush aside and took a step back, admiring your work. He looked much better now—clean, well-dressed, and presentable. A proper little prince.

“There,” you said, satisfied. “That’s much better.”

Aegon looked up at you with wide eyes, still unsure of what to make of all this. “Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice small, “you mad at Aegon?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “No, Aegon,” you replied, your tone softening slightly. “I’m not mad. I just want you to look your best. You’re going to be my husband one day, and I can’t have you running around looking like… like that.” You gestured vaguely to the memory of his earlier state.

Aegon stared at you for a moment, then suddenly reached out and hugged you, his little arms wrapping around your waist. “love you, wifey,” he mumbled against your gown, his voice muffled but sincere.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat at his words. “I-I told you not to call me that.” you stammered, your usual composure slipping for a moment.

“Wifey,” Aegon repeated, looking up at you with those big violet eyes, full of trust and affection.

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Part of you wanted to correct him, to tell him that he shouldn’t call you that until you were actually married. But another part of you—one you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge—found it oddly endearing.

Instead of saying anything, you let out a small sigh and gently lifted him into your arms, carrying him over to the bed. “Alright,” you said softly, trying to keep the affection out of your voice. “It’s time for bed.”

You dressed him in a pair of soft, silky nightclothes that you had selected earlier, making sure they were comfortable and warm. Then you tucked him into the bed, pulling the covers up to his chin.

Aegon reached out for you as you moved to leave, his small hand grabbing onto your sleeve. “Wifey, stay with Aegon,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “Please?”

You hesitated for a moment, then sighed and climbed into the bed beside him. You let him snuggle close, his little body warm against yours as he rested his head on your shoulder.

As you lay there, listening to his soft, even breaths, you found yourself humming a lullaby, the tune soft and soothing in the quiet of the room. Aegon’s grip on your sleeve relaxed as he drifted off to sleep, his face peaceful and content.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to simply enjoy the quiet, the warmth of his small body curled up against yours. It wasn’t something you had ever imagined doing—caring for a child, even if that child was your future husband—but as you watched him sleep, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of contentment.

“I just want the best for you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you brushed a strand of silver hair from his forehead.

Aegon mumbled something in his sleep, his little hand grasping for yours. You hesitated before allowing your fingers to gently intertwine with his. The softness of his small hand in yours was surprisingly comforting, though you would never admit it aloud.

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡ Part 3 ♡ Part 4 ♡ Part 6

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[keerysfreckles]

I saw you asked for luke requests so basically here i am😭😭

Luke x daughter of Apollo reader, who is just so unbelievably sweet and sunny and awesome and Luke who is genuinely head over heels for this girl he’s barely even talked to. Perhaps Annabeth utilizing forced proximity??

daylight — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x apollo fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, kissing, percabeth!!!

a/n: did i steal the jackie x cole kiss from my life with the walter boys as reader and lukes kiss..? .......no...

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

y/n wasn't sure what attracted her to luke castellan. maybe it was his charm, especially how charming he was when she first arrived to camp. maybe it was his looks. y/n always thought luke was way better looking than his siblings (don't let him find that out). or was it how she always felt giddy around him? she never felt this way around other campers, so what made luke so special?

the apollo girl was trying to figure it out on the way to breakfast, when a pair of hands clapped down on her shoulders. it brought her out of her trance.

the culprit was the hermes boy she couldn't get out of her head. luke castellan. along with annabeth beside him. y/n was confused once percy wasn't there. wherever annabeth went, percy followed.

"you've been so lost in thought recently, you okay?" y/n could tell luke was sincere while asking.

she only shrugs, "just have a lot on my mind i guess," she sends a smile to the pair before rejoining her own siblings at the apollo table.

annabeth simply shrugs towards luke, who's clearly just as confused by y/n's actions.

all throughout breakfast, luke couldn't keep his gaze away from y/n. her thoughts from earlier must have vanished. luke watched as she smiled brightly with her siblings. a smile that could light up the whole room, luke thought.

as cliche as it sounds, the way the sun was rising shined against y/n's hair perfectly. it was as if there was a halo surrounding her, securing the fact that she embodied sunlight.

when campers talked to y/n, they always left with a smile. luke was a victim to that as well.

as annabeth was walking back to her own table, with her second round of breakfast on her plate, she caught lule staring at y/n.

annabeth leaned down to luke, and the action made the boy jump, only making annabeth laugh. "and we're dreamily looking at y/n why?"

"damn annabeth, why don't you just restart my heart while you're at it."

"you didn't answer my question."

"i doubt i have a chance with her," luke sighs.

"you mean as in a relationship?"

luke nods, and annabeth sits beside him, not caring about the table rules in this very moment.

"why do you think she may not like you back?" annabeth questions.

"do you see her?" annabeth nods, choosing to ignore luke's grand hand gestures towards you. "she's the literal sun. everything about her is so pure, and positive, and perfect. what would she even like about me?"

"well, have you talked to her about this?"

luke looked at annabeth as if she had three heads and each one had smoke blowing out of it's ears.

"why on earth would i tell her? do i want to be made fun of by the most breath-taking girl at camp?" he said it if it were obvious.

without a word, annabeth left. this only confused luke. annabeth always had to have the last word in the conversation. luke knew she was planning something. he just wasn't sure what.

—

"why would there be a dolphin in the library of your cabin?"

to say y/n was beyond confused would be an understatement.

less than five minutes ago, annabeth informed her of a rabid dolphin placed in the middle of her library in athena cabin. y/n couldn't even get a thought out before annabeth started dragging her out of her own cabin.

"probably percy's idea. i don't know i haven't asked him yet." annabeth was still dragging y/n by her wrist.

"why don't you ask your little boyfriend about it and not me?" y/n offers. she sees annabeth become flustered as her grip loosens only for a moment, before the two girls end up outside the library door of athena cabin.

y/n pointed to the closed door, "and what exactly do you think i'm going to be able to do about a rabid dolphin?"

"you'll know," annabeth simply states, before pushing y/n inside quite aggressively. y/n hears the door lock.

"did you get the deranged raccoon story too?"

y/n turns to see luke looking through some of the books. she soon realized annabeth's little plan she had going on.

"no, not raccoons," y/n laughs, "a rabid dolphin actually."

"at least yours seems cooler," luke jokes.

y/n leans back against a wall and crosses her arms, already hating the slight awkward tension of the room.

"why would annabeth even trap us in here together? we barely know each other."

luke shrugs, "maybe that's what she wanted. for us to get to know each other better."

"i'm sorry, but doesn't annabeth, daughter of athena, goddess of wisdom, have something better to do with her time than trap two camp counselors in her library?"

luke couldn't help but laugh at the girl's response. she did have a point.

simply with the desk lamp light glowing towards y/n, luke still thought she looked like a human version of the sun.

"you're staring."

luke didn't even realize a few minutes have passed.

y/n only giggles at his flushed appearance, and walks over to stand beside him at the desk. a few books are opened. probably from annabeth doing more research about gods-knows-what. luke was now turned towards the books, and he felt y/n lean her chin upon his shoulder.

"do i make you nervous castellan?" she teases, jokingly at first. until she realizes he just tensed up at her phrase.

she slaps his upper arm, "oh my gods, i do make you nervous!" she exclaims.

luke rolls his eyes, "yeah, yeah, rub it in."

"am i dreaming right now? or does the luke castellan get nervous around me? and not some aphrodite camper?"

"aphordite's daughters have nothing on you," luke doesn't dare to make eye contact with the girl, but he's well aware of her staring. "you're literally a walking ray of sunshine. what can't i like about you?"

y/n involuntarily blushes at the compliment. she then places her chin back on luke's shoulder. finally, the taller boy looks at her. he swore he saw golden flakes dancing around her pupils.

there was a sudden change in atmosphere. neither of them could pin point why, but they weren't opposed to it.

"when i first got to camp, you made me nervous," y/n admits.

luke's eyebrows raise, "really?"

she simply nods, "the cool guy hermes camper wanted to talk to me more than his own brothers? of course you made me nervous."

both of them laugh at y/n's words, knowing they're nothing but true.

"why didn't you tell me before?" y/n asks, referring to luke's confession moments ago.

"i was worried you'd find it odd. and maybe you wouldn't want to talk to me, it's dumb i know," luke cuts himself off from his own rambling.

"it's definitely not odd," y/n reassures, "it's kinda cute, like you."

luke wasn't sure if he heard that last part right. maybe he just imagined it in his head, as something he wanted to hear. but he turned his head to face y/n. he was met with her staring back up at him, with worry filling her eyes as he didn't respond back.

"i like you luke, probably a lot more than i should," y/n moves her body away from luke's as she begins to walk towards the other side of the library.

however before she can even walk three steps away from the boy, his hand grabs at her wrist, halting her moments.

silence fills the room. not an uncomfortable one, but a steady silence.

luke pulls at y/n's wrist, making her hand collide with his chest. because of their height difference, now y/n had to look up at him. she gulped quietly, scared of what luke was going to say, or do to her.

the next event only confused y/n more.

luke leaned down and kissed y/n on the lips. she closed her eyes and savored the short but sweet feeling. in fact, it was too short for her liking. she broke her arm away from luke's grasp and he thought he was done for right then and there when she grabbed the back of his neck to bring his lips to hers again.

this time the kiss was much more passionate. months or maybe years of pent up emotions spilling out into it.

the two were too caught up in the moment as a muffled voice from behind the door became louder, and the door opened with the same voice following.

"do you really have a dolphin- OH MY GODS,"

y/n and luke turn to see percy standing in the doorway, with annabeth running up behind him.

"i tried to tell him," annabeth defended. "come on seaweed brain, let them have their moment."

"right sorry," percy then closed the door, before opening it again, "leave enough space for jesus between you two. i mean it!"

[kyeomofhearts]

Again & Again | C.SC

+ summary: you caved in and fucked your best friend, but it was only a one-time thing… right?

+ pairing: scoups x fem!reader

+ word count: 4.3k

+ content: fwb!, chubby reader (love ya'll), friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, pussy drunk cheol, size kink, angst, fluff

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (Final)

+ WARNINGS: drinking!, smut, dom!seungcheol, sub!reader, rough sex, praise?, sizekink, creampie, pls lmk if I missed anything

“I’m ready!”

Seungcheol’s ears perked up at your sudden announcement. Turning his head, only to be met with a breathtaking view of you. The way your clothes hugged your figure had his head spinning. He always loved seeing your curves and the way you filled out everything nicely. Although you weren’t wearing anything out of the ordinary, it was just a simple outfit. Something that would match the mood for Jeonghan’s party.

But Seungcheol being… well himself, he was mesmerized. He was for sure going to struggle to keep his hands off you, especially at Jeonghan’s party. As much as he was willing to risk it all for you, he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable so he kept it to himself.

“Let’s go then.”

…

The car ride was comfortable, nothing different from the ordinary.

Well, maybe a little different.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Seungcheol looking at you at times. It was easy to guess what he was thinking about… but you were literally two minutes away from Jeonghan’s place!

And they would know.

You took a deep breath.

“Don't even think about it.”

“What?” Seungcheol tried playing it off, even though he knew he had been caught. Even his voice raised a few octaves.

“We can’t! Not now at least…” As much as you tried hiding your pout, you couldn’t.

Of course, you wanted to fuck Seungcheol but with how rough he got… you knew you would get your makeup all messed up and that was something you did not want to deal with at the moment.

“Well… can I get a kiss before we head inside?” He gave you puppy eyes after putting the car in park.

God was he annoying. It annoyed you that his tricks always worked on you. But before you could say anything he was already leaning over the console, fluttering his stupidly long eyelashes with his lips puckered. He knew he looked stupid but teasing you was his favorite thing to do.

Without a second thought, you leaned in to give him a light peck. That should be good enough to hold him off for the next few hours right? Nope. Just before you were finished pulling away, his hand swiftly pulled you back to his lips. You couldn’t stop yourself from following his lead, especially when his hand was keeping your head steady.

Before it could escalate to something more, you felt your phone vibrate. Finally, pulling away while ignoring Cheol’s pleas, you went to check who had texted you.

Ugh.

It was Jeonghan, asking why you weren’t there yet.

“We can continue this later Cheol. Jeonghan’s asking me where we are.” You spoke softly, you knew how sulky Seungcheol would get if he didn’t get what he wanted, but it had to be done.

But fortunately, that was enough to convince him to hold off on his desires. And so he finally stepped out of the car, but only after telling you to not move an inch.

After he opened the door for you, you both began to walk to Jeonghan’s place. It was a nice walk to his place. It would have been even more nice had Seungcheol not tried holding your hand. Was he trying to give you a heart attack? Seriously, everything he did made it feel like he was your boyfriend… which he was not. It really didn’t help your blossoming feelings for him either, it was like he was purposely adding fuel to the fire. But you knew there was nothing behind his gestures, he’s been like this even before you started hooking up.

“C’mon… my hands are cold without yours!” God was he annoying. He was a living embodiment of the pleading emoji, always finding a way to use his puppy eyes to his advantage. But you loved to indulge him every single time.

You rolled your eyes, “What about your other hand? If I only hold this one, then the other one will stay cold.”

“The other hand is connected to the other, so once you hold my hand they both get warmed up.” Seungcheol countered all smug as if that didn’t sound like the dumbest thing he’s ever said.

“I don’t think it works like that-”

“You guys took forever!” Jeonghan said while looking at both you and Seungcheol. You immediately ripped your hand away from Cheol’s.

Jeonghan’s eyes were carrying an entertained look to them, you hope he didn’t see the whole thing between you and Seungcheol. That would be really hard to explain.

But before you could think anything of it, the sound of your favorite voice (besides Cheol's) had gotten your attention.

“y/n~ there's a special surprise waiting for you in the kitchen!” Soonyoung had yelled out behind Jeonghan.

“And… that's my cue!” You immediately sped off towards the kitchen. Tonight was all about having fun and you were going to take advantage of it. Head empty, no thoughts. That is what you were striving for.

Now Seungcheol and Jeonghan were left alone.

“So… you and y/n? Finally?” Jeonghan prodded after your swift departure. He has been waiting for the day that you and Seungcheol finally got together.

“No… not yet at least,” Seungcheol said with a sigh. Even when he didn’t mean to get all sulky, it always happened. It was like second nature to him.

Jeonghan raised his eyebrow to this. While it was amusing to see both of his friends be blind to the other’s feelings, it was just as frustrating. For the past few years, he witnessed how stupid people could truly be. How was it possible that you and Seungcheol were not aware of each other’s feelings? Anybody could see it clear as day. But he couldn’t do anything about it, since at the end of the day, it was not his place to get involved. So with a loud, disappointed sigh, Jeonghan patted Seungcheol’s back. All he could really do was provide advice and comfort.

“Just tell her man, I am more than sure that she will return your feelings.”

Seungcheol groaned at the thought.

“I will but I still need to find the perfect-”

“Time, yes I know that. You’ve been saying that for years now.” Jeonghan was displeased. “But what if y/n begins to think that she’s wasting her time with you? What happens then?”

Seungcheol really wanted to fire back but he couldn’t find anything to say.

And just like that, Jeonghan went inside, leaving Seungcheol outside in the cold.

Jeonghan's 'party' was quite small in reality. It was really just the guys with some of their significant others, nothing crazy.

Well.

Except for Soonyoung and his drinking.

You weren't known to be a heavy drinker but when it came to special occasions, your friends knew you could get down.

Luckily for them, today had been quite stressful in terms of work. So after a few pleas from Soonyoung and Seokmin, you indulged in a few shots. After all, a little never hurt... right?

Wrong.

Needless to say, you got wasted within a matter of hours.

It wasn't your fault though! The games Soonyoung came up with were really entertaining, you just couldn't help yourself.

The burn of the alcohol didn't phase you as much after your fourth shot. The aftertaste was still disgusting of course, but nothing a chaser couldn't fix.

Soonyoung, being the lightweight that he is, was already nearing the edge of blacking out. And Seokmin... you didn't know where he went to. Maybe the bathroom? Well, he was for sure in the house, you'll find him sooner or later.

God, your eyes were beginning to feel heavy and it didn't help that everything was starting to look blurry as well.

You decided to stand up and walk off the sudden drowsiness, that usually helped you wake up a bit. Instead, you felt a sudden rush go straight to your head, which threw you off balance.

Maybe you should-

“…And I think we’re done with the drinks,” Seungcheol said as he magically appeared behind you, taking the empty cup in your hand and throwing it away.

His free hand snaked its way down to your waist. "Feeling good? Need some water love?"

If you were in the right state of mind, you would be definitely thinking about how intimate this would look to the others.

But all you could think about was how his hand was leaving a warm, tingly feeling on your waist. The way his touch was firm yet gentle at the same time.

You were so focused on his touch that you forgot to answer the question he had originally asked you.

He leaned his head further into your neck, "I'll take that as a yes... did you want to head out?"

It was nearing ten o'clock, which should be considered a reasonable time to leave.

"Hmmm... I guess so."

The idea of climbing into bed and just dozing off was so tempting. Unfortunately, you had to wait which was the worst part of it all.

Before you could continue thinking about how comfortable your bed was, you felt something cold press against your cheek.

You shrieked at the feeling.

“Why would you do that?” You yelled out in surprise.

Turning around to look at Seungcheol, you couldn’t help but freeze. His gaze sent you shivers, or maybe it was because of the water bottle still pressed to your cheek. Either way, you were rendered speechless.

“You need to drink your water that’s why.” His tone was innocent but the smile that accompanied it was quiet… mischievous.

“…and maybe because you ignored me today. ”

There it was. He always found a reason to pout and sulk to you.

So you did as you were told and drank from the bottle. It did help wake you up a little bit but you were still far from sober.

"Let's say goodbye to everyone now." He took your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. This action alone making your body burn up.

You don't remember too much after that, only slurring out your goodbyes to your friends.

It had only been a few minutes since the two of you had arrived at his apartment. He decided it would be better in your case since his place was closer to Jeonghan's compared to yours.

“Since when did you have these products?” You stared in drunken awe, most of your skincare products were in his bathroom.

Shit. He hopes you don't think he's a complete freak. He bought your skincare products for the nights that you would spend at his place. He just wanted to make you feel at home with him. (And maybe this was his way of convincing you to stay the night with him since you had everything you needed…)

“Um… just figured it would be more convenient for you…” he prayed that you would think it was a kind gesture rather than him being a weirdo.

You took a second to respond, admiring how thoughtful he was when it came to making you feel comfortable.

“It's cute, I'm honestly more surprised you were able to get some of these products, some of them are exclusively online...” your eyes flitted to look at his. "Although, I don't think I'm capable of doing my whole routine right now." It was true, you were barely able to stand, imagine trying to do your skincare like this…

“I can do it for you,” he chipped in immediately after.

This filled you with that warm feeling you were now getting accustomed to. What was he doing to your heart?

He tapped the toilet lid, waiting for you to sit so he could begin his work. You knew it was pointless trying to stop him, once he had his mind set on something he wouldn’t let anything get in his way from completing it.

“Not yet. I still have to brush my teeth first.” And maybe this was your time to calm down before he eventually caressed your face for ten minutes straight.

Seungcheol took advantage of the little time you gave him and got changed into something comfortable. He also pulled out some more loose-fitting clothes since he knew you liked wearing baggier clothes to lounge around in. He wondered if it would be too ridiculous if he put them in the dryer to warm them up for you. It shouldn’t be, right?

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You asked apprehensively.

"Of course." He said without a second thought.

"Anything for you, remember?" His eyes were filled with something, some would say love but you didn't want to get too ahead of yourself.

He started to warm up the oil cleanser in between his hands. Then he gently applied the oil to your face, rubbing it in slow circles as to not irritate your face.

It was at times like this that made you worry if your arrangement was a bad idea. Sometimes you wish you would have just confessed to him instead of jumping straight into bed with him. Maybe things would have turned out differently had you done so.

Unwanted tears began pooling in your eyes. Why were these thoughts eating you up all of a sudden?

Seungcheol was quick to notice the tears.

"Did I get it in your eyes? I'm so sorry-"

“Cheol… I don’t think I can continue with- whatever this is,” you hiccuped, “i-it's just too much for me.”

His heart dropped.

What do you mean stop? He thought everything was going great, he was even planning on officially asking you out tomorrow.

“Why? I mean if that's how you really feel then we can stop, but at least tell me why, love.” Though his tone was understanding you could still see the concern in his eyes.

“I don't know... I just feel so conflicted. Like the way you treat me makes me want more with you but I know that's probably not what you want.” It felt as if a huge weight had been taken off of your shoulders. He’s right, you can't just end the arrangement without telling him why.

Continuing, “I just can't help it, I really like you but I know this is just casual for you and I would hate to put you in an uncomfortable position.” You ignored meeting his eyes, knowing you would cry even more if you saw the way he was looking at you right now.

On the other hand, Seungcheol was stunned, to say the least. But he was also relieved to hear the reason you wanted to end things was because you liked him but now he had to stop you from crying. He needed to let you know that he liked you just as much if not even more.

He was usually good with words but he didn’t really know what to say… so he hugged you instead. Hug was actually an understatement. His whole body tightly engulfed yours. He didn’t want to let you go at all.

“Cheol…?”

You tried wiggling out of his grasp but there was no point in trying, he had a very tight hold on you.

“You actually had me worried there for a second, I thought I actually did something wrong.”

Oh.

He cupped your face, which, by the way, was still oily because of the makeup remover.

"I was planning on asking you out tomorrow," he let out a soft laugh, "but I guess you beat me to it." He pressed a light peck to your lips.

“Wait, so does that mean…” okay that sounds dumb. But in true fashion, you had to ask him if he really meant it (even if he just confessed to you).

He laughs at your confusion but nods nonetheless.

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way though," he says wholeheartedly, "I actually wanted to avoid making you feel like I was only using you."

Before you could think of anything to say his hands returned their motions on your face.

"We should finish cleaning you up before we continue talking about us."

It was quiet but not uncomfortable. Soft giggles from either you or Cheol came and went.

He had finished around ten minutes later.

Your eyes were beginning to get heavy again, the sleepiness slowly creeping over you again.

And again, he noticed this. He was always able to read you.

"We can talk about it tomorrow," his tone was soft. He tried his best to not disturb your sleepy state.

His hand went to the small of your back, lightly guiding you to his bedroom.

Once you climbed onto the bed you fell asleep not even a minute later. Seungcheol quickly followed as soon as he cuddled up against you.

It was calm.

It had been almost an hour since you had woken up. Your head wasn't hurting as bad as you thought it would be. Maybe it was because someone kept making you drink water throughout the night.

Speaking of him, Seungcheol was currently busy with making breakfast, which left you the freedom to lounge around the living room.

Until a certain thought came up.

Well, more like thoughts.

You were recounting last night's events and what still weighed on your mind.

You knew you had confessed to Cheol and that he returned your feelings… but something felt off. It still felt like you needed to tell him something but you couldn’t place your finger on exactly what it was.

“Here,” Cheol had placed the food right next to you. God, it wasn’t even anything special but his food looked so damn good.

Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to eat it.

“Is something wrong?” Seungcheol asked apprehensively, his gaze filled with worry.

You didn’t know where to begin.

Maybe you should tell him about the guy you had hooked up with a while ago, the one that didn’t know where your clit was… that’s a good start right?

Obviously you know you didn’t really do anything wrong but it still weighs heavy on your mind from time to time.

"I need to tell you something, but promise me you won't get mad at me," you pleaded.

He looked at you incredulously, "It can't be that bad."

Taking a deep breath you begin, "I slept with someone else. But, this was before we came up with the arrangement, I think maybe a few days after we..." your voice immediately got stuck in your throat once you caught a glimpse of Cheol.

He was oddly calm. Too calm for your liking.

"Did you like it?" His voice didn't hold any trace of anger but you knew he was bothered by it.

You knew that you had to be cautious with your wording.

"No! I think I was just confused at the time so I experimented ," Your voice was meek. "It didn't mean anything, I promise."

He looked at you briefly. "That's too bad."

Huh?

To your dismay, he stood up and walked away into his bedroom.

You felt frozen in a way, confused about how to handle the situation. But rather than letting it grow into something worse you decided to follow him to his room. Talking it out will for sure help.

As you walked towards his door, you noticed that it had been left wide open.

Was this a setup?

Carefully, you stepped inside his room while searching for him. You were met with the sound of the door slamming shut, and a sudden presence behind your back.

"Cheol-" He turned you towards him, his hold was quite firm; though not to be confused with harsh.

"I'm not mad I promise," he leaned closer to kiss you. While his tone was gentle his kiss was not.

He pulled away for just a second.

"Why be mad when I have you all to myself now?"

Before he could go any further he pulled away again.

"Is this okay?"

Immediately, you nodded to let him continue his ministrations.

He cupped your cheeks once again to kiss you.

After a minute or so, he moved down to your neck. At first, he pressed light pecks but eventually started lingering on certain spots.

"Need to let everyone know that you're mine."

With that, he continued marking your neck, making sure that everyone would be able to see that you were now taken.

And while you loved the feeling of him marking you up, you couldn't help but want more.

"Cheol, please," your breaths were labored.

He hummed into the crook of your neck.

"Can you please just fuck me already?" You were growing needier by the second. Your panties were sticking uncomfortably against your heat.

He scoffed at your sudden urgency.

"I still need to prep you though," he tried reasoning with you, but to no avail, it fell upon deaf ears.

"We can do that any other day Cheol," the thought of having to wait a second longer pained you.

But, if that's how you wanted it... how could he deny you that?

He roughly exhaled before focusing on you again.

"Clothes," he instructed with a tug to your (his) shirt.

He did the same in return. Once you were both done stripping, he pushed you towards his bed so he could begin his work on you.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to get prepped first?” He was lightly tracing his fingers over your inner thighs.

Had it been with anyone else you would for sure need prep but Cheol was always careful with you, you trusted him.

“Yes, god, please just fuck me.” Desperate couldn’t begin to describe how you were feeling at the moment.

With that final confirmation, he began to work. While he knew you didn't want to be prepped he still wanted to work you up a bit. Gently, he grabbed a hold of your thighs and started spreading them apart.

He trailed soft kisses at an excruciatingly slow rate. But eventually, he landed on your core. He peppered it with another round of kisses, the pressure varying between each kiss.

After a minute or so he pulled away and slotted himself right in between your legs.

Holding his cock in his hand, he stroked it twice and then ran the tip up and down your slit. No matter how many times you fuck Seungcheol, you will never get used to the initial sting of his cock. It also doesn’t help that he’s so big.

He slowly nudged the tip towards your entrance. Gradually, he carefully pushed himself deeper inside you, cautious knowing that he hadn’t prepped you. After the first few seconds the feeling went away, leaving you with want. You moved your hips to let him know you wanted more.

"Fuck," you manage.

"Can't take me?" He almost pulls out fully before snapping his cock into you again.

You hated when he got this cocky, but you couldn't deny that it didn't turn you on even more.

“Shut up,” you tried hiding the pleasure in your voice while he slowly went in and out of you.

He only hummed in response. Soon he became enveloped in you, his thrusts were slowly picking up pace while he held onto you tightly. Your senses were completely invaded by Seungcheol, only being able to think about him.

“I will never get used to how tight you are,” his voice was strained, trying his best to not cum inside you. (because that would be embarrassing, not for you but for him)

All you could do was moan in response.

After a few months of consistent hookups, Seungcheol had learned about your body pretty quickly, from your kinks, to your turn offs… he practically knew your body inside and out.

Which explained how he knew you were on the brink of coming, your walls tightening around him being a common telltale sign.

Usually, he would edge you for a good hour or so, but after last night’s ordeal he just wanted to show you how much you affected him. So with that, Seungcheol lazily brought his free down to your clit and began to rub slow yet firm circles. He knew that playing with your bud would immediately send you over the edge. It also didn’t help that his pace was becoming more erratic, by the looks of it, you would be coming together.

And just like that, after a few more thrusts he felt you begin to spasm underneath him, letting a loud string of moans out during the act. Seungcheol dipped his head towards your lips as he came inside you, making you swallow his groans in the process.

Shortly after, Seungcheol’s body fell completely limp on yours, feeling only pure exhaustion. It felt nice, only being able to feel his heavy body on top of yours… kind of therapeutic in a sense. But unfortunately that didn’t last very long, because after a minute or so, everything began to feel wet and sticky.

As if reading your mind, Seungcheol mumbled out a low, “let’s get cleaned up.”

While you were obviously up for it, the thought of having to stand up at this very moment felt horrible. As he slowly pulled out of you, you couldn’t help but just stay on the bed. This did not go well with Seungcheol.

“Y/n c’mon, we have to get you cleaned up,” he whined while tugging on your arm.

“Just five more minutes, I still can’t feel my legs!” Were you being over dramatic? Yes, but it’s not like he’s not used to it.

“Y/n we have to get ready to go out.” This time he pulled you all the way up, keeping you steady while you regained your balance. You did recall him mentioning going out today but you don’t remember exactly where.

“Really? Where are we going?” The excitement of going out completely masked the feeling of your jelly-like legs.

“Nowhere in specific.” Your smile dropped. What does he mean nowhere? You hated when he turned things into surprises. (Hate is a strong word but you get the idea.)

He shrugged his shoulders, “Just wanted to show my new girlfriend off to the world I guess…”

Ugh. He is so annoying.

“Never say that again, ever.”

Yet, you couldn’t hide the smile slowly creeping up towards your face. Hearing him call you his girlfriend was definitely something you could get used to.

I am so so so sorry for leaving you guys hanging! It was not my intention I swear,, I just kept taking and adding to the fic which is why it got delayed so bad… at least the finale is here right? The last part was not proofread so I’m hoping that it’s legible, hope you enjoy :3

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

424

All right, listen. It’s pretty damn funny that two weeks ago I posted all like, “oh I don’t really comment chapter-by-chapter, I’m waiting to see what happens next,” but this one broke me.

This chapter was everything I wanted for bkdk, and it’s so much more tender than I ever dreamed it could be.

This post is not going to be like most of my posts, because I am a flood of emotion. If you’re wanting some detailed, well-researched analysis of this scene, that ain’t coming for a while.

I don’t have some kind of comparative linguistics to show you. I just have my visceral reactions as someone who speaks Japanese and has absorbed Japanese media for many years. I have shared my heart with others in Japanese, I’ve sputtered out words between sobs and felt the many kinds of comfort different people try to offer. I have comforted others who let themselves be vulnerable with me.

In all these moments, just as in English, I wondered if my words and feelings reached them. Each time, I felt the warmth of connection when they looked at me, and I decided that they knew I did my best. They accepted me, even if it wasn’t perfect.

I’m gonna tell you the truth, and I wouldn’t normally say this so directly, but it matters to me: the fan translation for this specific scene is not good. The tone is wildly off in some ways and it outright omits a number of very important words.

The official translation gets so much of it right.

But that’s not really what I want to talk about right now. I want to talk about how people are reading this scene.

I have seen a ton of, frankly, oblivious interpretations of Izuku’s side of things.

Listen to me. Izuku is not making fun of Katsuki for crying, he is not telling Katsuki that crying isn’t like him, that isn’t in the text at all. He is not rejecting Katsuki’s feelings, or belittling them, or ignoring them, or any of that.

Izuku has seen Katsuki cry in-canon a number of times, but every time it was over his own personal failures, and the frustration, anger, guilt, and grief associated with them. We see it in the aftermath of Deku vs. Kacchan 1. We see it during Deku vs. Kacchan 2.

Izuku is shocked to see Kacchan cry because this is the first time he has cried for Izuku.

When Katsuki apologized in 322, he looked Izuku in the eye and told him his feelings with conviction and poise. He was gentle and vulnerable, but strong, because he was asking Izuku to trust them and rely on them. To come back with them and believe in them, like they believe in Izuku. He bowed his head to show his remorse. He caught Izuku when he fell, and he accepted Izuku’s own apology.

He embodied dignity, sincerity, and strength of character. He was a true hero.

This?

This is the raw, honest sorrow of a young boy. It is a tender, earnest, unguarded display of how much Izuku means to him.

These are the tears you shed for someone you cherish. These are tears for when you think you are losing something you can’t live without. Because Katsuki isn’t just crying for the loss of Izuku’s dream—it’s their dream, the future they dreamt up together as kids.

Izuku is almost pathologically incapable of understanding how other people see him and feel about him, but this is unmistakable. He is stunned because there is no other explanation.

There is unmitigated heartache and longing at the core of Katsuki saying, “I just thought somehow we would be together like this, competing and chasing after each other, forever.”

And Izuku is reeling, but so, so touched, and filled with fondness. Look at how his shock shifts to this overwhelmed, affectionate smile.

He’s right—this isn’t the usual Katsuki, and that is precisely why it means so much. We as the audience have been privy to Katsuki’s feelings, but until now Izuku himself has never really grasped the depth of them. This is all the tenderness Katsuki has kept locked up inside, and he is letting Izuku see it for the first time.

To see Kacchan—strong, fierce, and absolutely unstoppable—shed these innocent, helpless tears for him and tell him through sobs that he wanted things to stay this way forever, I can’t blame him for being blown away.

I think Izuku expected Katsuki to be shocked and a little sad that he gave up OFA, both for Izuku’s sake and because it is the legacy of their hero. Before Katsuki even starts crying, Izuku has this small smile on his face, like he was ready to reassure him that he had made peace with his own choice.

But he clearly didn’t expect for Katsuki to weep openly in front of him about it or to confess to wanting him by his side. Izuku had so enjoyed just being allowed near Katsuki, allowed in his life at all—to think that Katsuki could want the same and want it this much, to the point that he worries that things would change, that Izuku would abandon him or deny him? How could that ever be?

In what world could Izuku ever stop chasing Kacchan?

Izuku is a bit of an idiot. He has always thought that Katsuki understood how much he cared for and admired him—that’s why he is so shocked during DvK2 to hear that Katsuki thought he looked down on him for years. Izuku thought Katsuki understood his feelings and simply rejected them.

The way he loves Kacchan is natural and unquestionable. Even now, he can’t understand how Katsuki doesn’t know. It’s baffling to him.

But he still accepts Katsuki’s vulnerability and responds to the intimacy.

This is such an affectionate, loving thing to say. Izuku is being so sweet. I cannot convey to you strongly enough how Izuku telling Katsuki, “C’mon, stop it, this isn’t like you!” reaffirms their closeness.

If Izuku had not said this line and instead skipped straight to this nervous, awkward little attempt at comfort here:

It would have read as so much more distant.

With his tears and his confession, Katsuki pleads with Izuku to not leave him. To be with him always.

And in response, Izuku unabashedly stakes his claim on their bond by being bold enough to affectionately scold him and even assert authority on what kind of person Katsuki is. Remember these?

Chapters 202 and 319

This is such a staple in Japanese media for showing close bonds. Your loved ones know you. They tease you. They scold you. They have that right. You gave it to them.

The people you love cheer you up by reminding you that you’re strong and brave and that even if things feel hopeless and like you can’t go on, that they know you can. Everything will be okay, and they know so because they’ll be right there with you. Of course they’ll be there.

Symbolically, throughout the series, Izuku’s response to Katsuki trying to be closer to him has always been: “Of course.”

He has always accepted Katsuki as much as he is able to, as much as he had awareness for. He is wildly lacking in self-awareness, so it’s certainly not perfect, but by god does he try.

What Izuku is really saying is a mixture of “Really? You want that, too?” and “Don’t be silly!”

One part is him being shocked and touched; the other is him being absolutely certain of his own heart, and showing it as best he can.

He does get flustered and self-conscious, though—because it’s overwhelming to see Kacchan this way, and this is kind of new territory for them. So he switches tactics to reassure Kacchan about how things are now, and make sure he doesn’t feel embarrassed about this outburst. He still has the embers, so it’s okay for now. And their bodies are weak, so of course their heads will be in a bad place too, it’s easy to get low spirits. Of course Katsuki would be feeling vulnerable. It’s normal.

He gives Katsuki so many things here. He gives him as much as he can.

Izuku doesn’t know how long he’ll have the embers for and, frankly, he doesn’t have any guarantee that he will be able to satisfy this longing of Katsuki’s after he loses them. This, too, is a staple of promises in Japanese media: “I don’t know if I can satisfy you, but I want to try. I hope you can accept me.”

Things will be different—the future is always uncertain, now more than ever for their world. But what will never change is what they feel in their hearts.

After this scene, I honestly don’t care if we get something other people see as “bkdk canon.”

What Katsuki says is as good as a confession to me. What Izuku says in return is genuine and pure. This is a messy pair of teenage boys figuring out how to reach each other with words, when they have always been so damn bad at it. This is the two of them both reaching a new point of intimacy and reaffirming everything that came before.